Gods & Monsters (Serpent & Dove #3) by Shelby Mahurin

Snorting, Coco rolled her eyes and said, “No one will be looking at you.”

He arched a wicked brow. “You will be.”

She lifted a casual shoulder, speaking over it as she strode back up the aisle. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, we—” He skidded to a halt in his pursuit of her, his eyes falling on Jean Luc. The spray on the latter’s chair had loosened, and he was attempting to reattach it. “Honestly, Jean, what did I tell you? We want it to appear artfully strewn, as if the daisies sprang up from this very chair. You’re tacking them on too neatly.” When Jean Luc scowled, unimpressed, Beau elbowed him aside to do it himself. “Like tits on a boar.”

“Careful, Your Majesty.” With a wry grin, Jean Luc tossed a handful of fallen edelweiss at his head. The King of Belterra lurched away with a violent curse, finger combing his hair frantically. “You’ll muss those luscious locks.”

“I will kill you—”

Coco caught his hand and dragged him up the aisle before they could brawl. Grinning despite myself, I followed them around the bend, where Lou stood out of sight with Madame Labelle, Célie, and Manon. Beau shook his head when he saw her, whistling low and appreciative. “Reid is going to lose his mind.”

Lou winked and shimmied her shoulders. “That’s the plan.”

Madame Labelle fixed one of her soon-to-be daughter’s curls, arranging it artfully around Lou’s freckled cheek. “You look beautiful, fille. I shall see you soon. Come.” She motioned for Célie and Manon to join her, leaving Lou, Coco, Beau, and me alone in the shadow of a withered pear tree. The only one that’d survived. When Reid had suggested holding the festivities here, Madame Labelle had protested, explaining again how Morgane had torched these trees in a fit of rage. Reid knew that, of course. He knew how love could twist even the most beautiful of people, of places, into cruel and dark things. He also knew how special this grove had once been to his mother—to all the Dames Blanches.

Lou had agreed, and together, they’d made it beautiful once more.

When Coco extended the sunflower bouquet, Lou’s grin dimmed slightly. Her finger traced the curve of the frame. “Do you think he’s watching?”

Coco looped an arm through hers. “I think he wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“He should’ve been here. He should’ve given me away too.”

Beau claimed Lou’s other arm, tapping my face in the frame. “He still is.”

“I still am,” I whispered with a smile. In response, a soft breeze rustled the branches overhead, bringing with it a pleasant warmth, a low hum of bees, a faint scent of daffodils. Of new beginnings.

I walked beside them as they led Lou up the aisle.

Though Claud had gone, his empty seat remained next to mine, and Seraphine crooned a lovely ballad of love lost and love found while Reid waited beneath the arbor. Madame Labelle stood beside him, the handfasting ribbons woven between her fingers. She winked at Father Achille in the audience.

Beau cleared his throat, and every person—every human, witch, werewolf, and mermaid—turned as one to look at us. To look at Lou. Her breath caught in her throat, and her hands tightened instinctively on Coco and Beau. “Breathe, sister mine,” the latter murmured. “Just breathe.”

“Go on, Lou.” Though she couldn’t see me, couldn’t hear me, I spoke the words regardless, pushing her forward gently. “Find peace.”

She seemed to relax at the warm touch of wind on her face.

Then her eyes found Reid, and the entire world faded to that blinding, soul-deep connection. Anyone could see it. Everyone could feel it. If I reached out a hand now, I sensed I could’ve touched it. Though I knew not of magic patterns, this thread that connected Lou and Reid—this gravitational pull, this cosmic one—it was a magic in itself. It pulled them together. It would keep them there.

He gazed at her with the most brilliant, devastating smile.

She blinked at the sight of it, her own slightly dazed, slightly awed, as Reid took in her ivory gown, her trailing sleeves, the rich flowers atop her long, loose hair. The scarred roses at her throat. Summer sun had gilded her skin once more. It burnished the freckles across her nose. When he stepped forward to take her hand, he brushed his lips across them, trying to kiss each one. “See something you like?” he murmured in her ear.

She eyed him appreciatively. “Let’s make this quick.”

Their vows were not traditional. Not this time. Nor was their ceremony. It ended just as the sun touched the mountains, its golden light lengthening the shadows of the grove. Fireflies winked into existence. Ever curious, feu follet soon followed, their eerie glow lighting a path through the gnarled trees. Twice, Beau snatched an inquisitive Gabrielle away from them, much to her indignation. “You rotten brother! I just want to see them!”

Her protests could barely be heard over the music.

Several more witches had trekked from the castle with mandolins, lutes, and lyres underarm. Others had brought wine. Indeed, most who’d remained at Chateau le Blanc gathered in the grove now, curious and wary. Though they gave Jean Luc and Father Achille a wide berth—and Elvire and Blaise too—no one lifted a hand against them. Toulouse even managed to charm a pretty young witch into dancing with him. Another asked Liana for a turn.