If Lou couldn’t return my memories, perhaps this was the next best thing.

“We are going to rob it.” She didn’t lean against me again. Unfortunately, her forward position fitted her backside more firmly between my legs. I gritted my teeth against the sensation. “It’ll be locked in the treasury, up in the highest room of the tallest tower. That’s where my coven hides all their relics—cursed books and eternal flowers and magic rings alike.”

“Your father would shit a brick, Célie,” Beau called over his shoulder.

“Shut up, Your Highness,” Jean Luc fired back.

Célie spoke through her teeth. “I can speak for myself, Jean.”

Lou chuckled before continuing. “My mother allowed me inside only once, and the door was guarded by a powerful enchantment. We’ll have to break it somehow—if we even manage to reach it. Eyes surround the castle itself from all sides. Hundreds of witches live there year-round.” She paused. “Even more now.”

Hundreds of witches.

“You said only the witch who casts the enchantment can break it.”

“That’s right.”

I clenched my jaw in irritation. In disappointment. “How will we break the enchantment on the door?”

She merely shrugged, her hair tickling my face. Long and thick and brown. Wild. Against my better judgment, I inhaled its scent. She smelled sweet in a way I almost recognized—like vanilla and cinnamon. A warm coat on a cold winter day. Snow on my tongue. I shook my head, feeling thoroughly stupid. “You have no strategy at all, do you?”

“I bottled several pints of L’Eau Mélancolique.” The wind carried Coco’s voice in an upward spiral. Lou strained forward to hear her, and I shifted away, cursing inwardly. Heat crept into my cheeks. My body didn’t realize, of course. This wasn’t a woman but a witch. “Maybe the waters will restore the door to what it was before the enchantment,” Coco continued. “If not, my blood might. It’s a different magic than yours.”

Jean Luc didn’t hide his scorn. “It’s a door. We break it down.”

I scarcely heard the exchange. With each stride of the horse, the witch’s backside moved against my lap, up and down, rhythmic, until heat suffused my entire body. I glared determinedly at the sky overhead. The situation had grown dire. Soon, she would notice, and soon, I would have to kill her for it.

“Is there a problem, Chass?” she murmured after another moment.

“None,” I snapped.

She said nothing for several seconds. Then— “You can tell me if there is.” She cleared her throat. It sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “It must be hard, riding with me like this.”

I would have to kill her.

“Seriously, Reid.” Lowering her voice, she turned to look at me in the saddle. I exhaled harshly at the movement. “Do I need to move?” The sudden earnestness in her expression startled me. As did the flush in her cheeks. The dilation of her pupils. “I can sit behind you.”

Ahead of us, Beau glanced back at me before winking and whispering in Coco’s ear. She laughed. Feverish with rage or—or something else—I shook my head. Their sly behavior chafed. All of it. Though truthfully, one couldn’t call them sly at all. Each communicated openly if not clearly, which made it all the more infuriating. They were laughing at my expense.

I just didn’t know why.

And I wouldn’t be humiliated by a witch.

I jerked my chin behind me. “Move.”

She stood in the stirrups without hesitation. Or tried. She couldn’t reach both, instead standing on tiptoe atop each of my boots. She nearly lost her balance. I didn’t help her. Didn’t touch her. Not until she pivoted to face me, her breasts at eye level. I nearly choked. Though she shimmied to maneuver around, they still brushed my cheek, and I lurched backward. She smelled sweet. Too sweet. Swiftly, I wrapped an arm around her waist, propelling her behind me. She clutched my shoulders for balance. Her thighs cradled mine. I held back a groan.

At least her breasts weren’t in my face anymore—they were pressed into my back.

God was trying to kill me.

She slid her arms around my torso. “Is this better?”

“How do I restore my memories?” I asked instead. Hideous shame tightened my chest. This physical response—I’d never felt it with such intensity. Worse, the ache didn’t ease. It only strengthened with each passing moment. My body felt . . . unfulfilled. Like it knew what came next. Like it craved it. But that was nonsense. It didn’t know anything, didn’t crave anything, and it certainly didn’t recognize that sweet smell.

“It’ll be painful. I’ve only done it once.”

“And?”

“And I just sort of . . . focused on the holes in the tapestry. I followed the loose threads.”

I scoffed. “Riddles.”

“No.” She squeezed me tighter, her wrist dangerously close to one of my knives. I didn’t warn her. “It isn’t a riddle at all. Think of a specific gap in your memory. Focus. Remember everything around it—the colors, the scents, the sounds. Logically, your mind will try to fill in the missing pieces, but subconsciously, each explanation will feel wrong.” She paused. “That’s when you move on to the illogical ones. The magical ones.”

Are you sure? Think hard, Reid. Please. Just think. I’m Lou, remember? I’m your wife.

Wanted dead or alive under suspicion of murder, conspiracy, and witchcraft.

I viciously rejected each thought. They simply weren’t true. And despite what this creature claimed, they didn’t feel right. They felt wrong in every way. Unnatural. I gripped the reins tighter, spurring our horse faster. I needed to recenter. To refocus. Plunging a knife in a witch’s heart should do the trick. A simple, logical solution.

Even better if she had freckles.

Winter Wonderland

Lou

I wasn’t prepared to return to Chateau le Blanc. A chill skittered down my spine at the familiarity of the wind here, the taste of the salt and pine and magic. Beyond the eerie mist of L’Eau Mélancolique, waves crashed and gulls cried. The former had lulled me to sleep every night as a child—and the latter had woken me each morning. My bedroom window had overlooked the sea.

“Stop.” Though I said the word quietly, Jean Luc pulled on the reins of his horse, turning to face me. “We should walk from here. My sisters stalk these trees at night.”

To my surprise, he nodded and complied without argument or scorn. Reid, however, stiffened and shook his head. “Your sisters.”

“Do you have any?” Sliding from the saddle, I voiced the question with casual nonchalance. I knew the answer, of course, but he didn’t know that. I’d spooked him before with talk of wives and magic. His physical response to me hadn’t helped. If I had any chance of rekindling what we’d once had, it would take more than seduction. More than pleas. I’d need to fall in love with him all over again—the person he was now—and he would need to fall in love with me. When he didn’t answer, I tried to clarify. “Sisters, I mean.”

“I knew what you meant,” he said shortly.

Right.