Chapter 28

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

AGATHA

G uinevere nickered beneath Agatha, sensing her unease. Mabon tittered in her ear, pulling gently at her braid with his teeth. "Take care of the forest, Mabon." The little bat pushed his head against Agatha's cheek and she fought a wave of tears. "I miss you already." He squeaked in agreement before flying off to slumber.

"Everyone is ready." Grimm looked up at her, patting Guinevere's neck. "We're headed out."

She nodded once and watched him stride to Nuit and mount. With one look over her shoulder at her beloved cottage, she kicked Guinevere's sides and they set off for Helsvar.

The next three days of travel were quiet. Solemn. Faster without the large travelling party.

Seleste scryed repeatedly. "She must expect us, but she hasn't moved from her camp in Helsvar," she said on the second day. "I haven't seen what she's planning. I think she knows I'm looking. Watching."

"We meet up with the rest of the crew at nightfall," Laurent announced midafternoon on the third day. "From there, we'll ride straight into Helsvar."

When the sun began to set, Sorscha rode up next to Agatha. She had her brow pulled low. "This looks awfully familiar."

Winnie smiled wistfully. "It should."

"This is Drifthollow," Seleste mused.

Agatha could see it. She was eight years old. Her final night with her Sisters all those decades ago. Summer heat and strange delicacies. Scantily clad women on elephants. Striped tents and popped corn. Spun sugar and trapeze. "This is the cirque grounds."

Laurent slowed his horse so he could reach across and take Winnie's hand.

Seleste reached over and took Sorscha's.

Agatha watched them all, her heart full and aching, her stomach full of knots.

One foot in front of the other . Grimm's voice in the bond was an instant balm. I'm right here.

Around sunset, a little, dilapidated cottage came into view. Their home after their life burned down three hundred years ago.

"Winnie," Seleste gasped. "After all this time?"

"I tend to it often. "

"It looks exactly the same." Sorscha's voice was raw.

"I'm glad you kept it this way." Agatha didn't trust herself to say anything else.

The glamour of Druid magic faded as Laurent rode through it, revealing the cottage was surrounded by a massive camp, everyone milling about. Agatha slid off her horse, taking in her past, her present, and all it meant. To the Ouest, there were tents of Druids. To the Est, tents from Araignée.

Lydia and Lena came out to greet them. From somewhere off in the woods, Porthos and Roc came out, their band of Seagovian soldiers and rebels hidden away. From a tent near the cottage, Empress Amira came, her army camped just outside of the grounds.

As they were all talking fervently with Grimm, Gaius, Laurent, and Asa, Agatha noticed another set of tents behind the cottage. "Arielle," she said quietly when the young Death Seer came up beside her. "Who is in those tents to the Nord?"

Arielle smiled. "I believe you'll soon find out."

A tall figure came out of the shadows, headed right for them. She'd just recognised his gait when Sorscha screeched, "Gideon the fucking Living."

He spread his arms wide, his handsome face cheerful. "Hello, poppet. Miss me?"

"Not particularly. What are you doing here?"

Gideon's gaze cut to Agatha. "My Lady Magic needed me."

Gods, he actually sounded sincere. "Thank you, Gideon."

"Don't mention it, pet." He spun around when the last word slipped out, looking over his shoulder at Grimm who was still in conversation. "Fuck. Don't tell him I said that. "

"You abandoned us, Gideon," Agatha challenged. "What's changed your mind?"

"I didn't abandon you." The Eldritch Dreadful scratched at his salt-and-pepper beard. "I left to recruit reinforcements."

Sorscha stood stock still. "You didn't…"

"I did."

Sister Spring screeched and took off at a run.

Agatha raised her eyebrows at Gideon in question and he shrugged. "Livie…the Poisonous," he added the last part for Agatha and Arielle's benefit. "Also convinced Balthazaar—the Debauched—to come." He rubbed at the bridge of his nose, exasperated. "Idiot mistake that was since he got Livie's daughter pregnant. ‘s been nearly twenty years ago, and she's still madder than a death hound. Anyway, we all hate The Order and that insane hag that wished me dead. So, we're here."

"Thank you, Gideon. Thank you for reconsidering."

He nodded respectfully and strode back to his tent.

The evening was a flurry of ensuring everyone was prepped, fed, and settled in their tents. When things got too noisy, Tindle screeched and clapped his hands, and silence descended. If she had to guess, Agatha would say that was Tindle's magic power.

"You beautiful, infuriating man," she gushed, wrapping her arms around him in an awkward, sideways hug.

"Oh, darling, I learned it from you." He moved to hug her back, and they stayed that way for a long time. Until Dulci made them tea, and Anne came to join them.

Late, late into the night, a travelling party arrived. Roc and Porthos came running, alerting Agatha and Grimm. Cautiously, they made their way to the edge of the glamour over their camp.

A cloaked woman stood there, a dozen or so people behind her. She watched the glamour as if she could sense it was there. "Something is familiar…" Agatha stepped forward, but Grimm grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

"It could be a trick. Athania may have found a new body."

Agatha shook her head. "No. Seleste just saw her in the valley, waiting." She darted ahead before he could stop her.

The glamour tingled against her skin as she passed through. The woman's lips parted, and she removed her hood. Agatha definitely knew this woman. "Who are you?"

She felt Grimm begin to come through the glamour after her, but he halted as, without a word, the woman bowed low. All those behind her followed until Agatha had to fight not to squirm.

Finally, the woman stood upright. "My name is Lady Eldridge. We spoke only briefly at a royal dinner in the Winter."

It clicked into place. The woman who thanked her for what she was doing for Merveille, before Grimm—addled by the draught—made Agatha cry, leaving the dinner before they could finish their discussion.

"Yes." She was too curious, too off-kilter to say more.

"We are witches and warlocks, gathered by Grand Magus von Fuchs." Lady Eldridge stood straighter, and Agatha's throat constricted. "And we are here to fight alongside you."

Agatha allowed them passage through the wards and took them to Seleste, who was all too happy to find a place for them on the grounds.

Eventually, the camp grew quiet save for the music of night creatures and the snores of their comrades. Once Agatha ensured Anne was tucked in safely with Augustus, she waved goodnight to Arielle and Gaius and made her way toward the tent she was to share with Grimm.

When she entered, he had his head in his hands.

"Reaper?"

He lowered his hands but kept his eyes trained on his boots. "It became too difficult out there." He turned to her with a sad smile. "I suppose that makes me a coward, hm?"

"To care so much about your loved ones that it's difficult to keep a brave face for them? Never."

He sighed and rubbed his hands back and forth through his hair, mussing it up.

"Come here," she demanded.

Grimm rose with the air of someone ancient. Which, she supposed he was. Standing before her, he reached out and clasped her locket. After a long moment staring at it, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "It's my turn, isn't it?"

She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but it wouldn't come. "Not yet. Not until you're ready."

"I have to break it." His voice was so forlorn.

"You have to set it free."

The correction bolstered him. She let her magic unfasten the clasp, the delicate chain falling limp against his fingers. Closing his fist around the amulet—closing his fist around the four intertwined eights that represented the Sisters Solstice—he squeezed. Agatha watched the muscles strain in his forearm, the effort far less than she expected. Though, he was a god after all. There was a faint snap, muffled by his fist, and Grimm opened his hand.

The charm had been crushed to dust. From it snaked the final vine of Lord Night's power. Together, they watched as it wound around his fingers, then bled into his skin.

Neither of them said anything. They didn't need to.

Grimm let the chain and dust fall to the ground, and he took her face in his hands. When his lips met hers, she could taste every kiss, every life with him. Tenderly, as if for the first time, as if for the last, Grimm took her to their bed of furs and loved her in the way only he could. It was like being in the depths of the sea and suspended in the night sky, all at once.

"I love you," he murmured in her ear. "Now, and forevermore."

SELESTE

Winnie woke her first.

Together, they snuck across the sleeping camp in their night clothes and roused Sorscha. She was naked and peaceful beside Asa and only cursed four times when they woke her, not bothering to dress.

Like ghouls in the night, they slunk into Aggie's tent to find she was also naked.

Sorscha giggled. "Shall we draw her a bath and summon her into the murky woods?"

Memories of the Autumnul Equinox danced in Seleste's mind when Aggie and Sorscha had both arrived naked and dripping wet .

Winnie groaned. "Why can't the two of you ever be clothed?"

Seleste grinned. "I think we should do it."

"It would be amusing."

"Fine."

Winnie snapped and the three of them were standing in the woods that butted up against the cottage.

Seleste flourished her hand and Aggie's clawfoot tub landed in the fallen leaves, filled to the brim with steaming water, drizzled with milk and honey.

Sorscha flicked her wrist and Aggie appeared, jolting awake in the tub.

Aggie cursed no more than six times, water sloshing over the sides, dampening the leaves as her Sisters cackled.

Agatha splashed Sorscha, who was closest.

"Why are you both naked and wet?" Winnie demanded, mocking herself. Her facade cracked, and they all descended into fits of laughter.

"Hush, hush ," Seleste finally cautioned through her giggles.

Agatha climbed from the tub and summoned a mauve nightgown for her and a scarlet one for Sorscha—both lace, one silk, one sheer. The four Sisters wound their arms together and trudged to their crooked cottage.

The door creaked as they entered, and walking in felt like coming home. Everything was exactly how they'd left it. Sorscha's lavender sat shrivelled on the window sill. A bundle of dried flowers sat in the corner when Aggie had left them.

Fanning out, they each moved like ghosts toward the thing they most remembered .

Seleste went to the kitchen. There, on the counter, was her mixing bowl and frosting knife.

Winnie followed her in. Together, they took in the empty plates and glasses on the table. When she spoke, her voice was soft. Distant. "I— Couldn't bring myself to leave the food."

The meal they'd not been able to eat, save for a bite or two. No—Greta, Prue, Helda, and Sybil had come to take them away, one by one. Winnie bartered for one more day, but it was the last time the four of them were ever at that table together.

Sorscha and Aggie came into the kitchen, arm-in-arm. Winnie conjured lemon-herb chicken and potatoes, while Seleste conjured ice-cold lemonade and frosted lemon tea cakes.

"Happy Day of Birth, Sister Autumn," Winnie said, her eyes glistening.

They pushed every thought, every fear aside, and ate, the four of them. The way it should have always been. The Sisters Solstice.