Page 148 of Summer of Sacrifice

It was perfect.

Behind her cottage, Gaius and Sorscha had set up a bonfire and a dance floor—respectively. The fire had been a last-minute adjustment, and Grimm almost tackled Gaius with a bearhug for it.

“For fires and family,” Gaius said, he and Grimm both choking back tears.

The tears, however, had ended long ago, replaced by raucous laughter and pure joy.

They’d eaten an absolute feast at the two long tables laden with bouquets of dahlias, black barlow, and elderberry, candles interspersed to perfection. They danced until almost dawn, while Laurent played the lute and Winnie sang. During Agatha’s first dance with Grimm, he’d gotten too handsy and Tindle stepped in, while Dulci twirled away with Grimm.

It was a magical evening devoid of magic, only the love of her family and friends. Her heart swelled as she watched them all pair off.

Sorscha dancing wildly with stiff-kneed Asa. Gaius holding Arielle as if she were the most precious thing in the realm. Laurent making Tomás play the lute—terribly—so he could twirl Winnie. Augustus swaying with Anne, her head on his chest. Tindle bickering in a waltz with Dulci. Tomás and Eleanor performing a dance they choreographed, until everyone laughed and cheered. Grimm, seeing Seleste nursing her drink off to the side and leading her in a boisterous dance until she laughed.

Even Mabon, Litha, and Yula flew and dove throughout the night, their own dance of celebration, while Yula clutched Ostara gently in her talons so she could join them in the sky.

Agatha’s heart broke and mended and rebroke for love, and joy, and grief the whole night long.

She’d danced with each of her Sisters, laughing and stumbling more often than not. Sorscha was unrestrained and crude. Seleste was as free as the Summer night. And Winnie had sniped at Agatha for stepping on her toes, but there was no real censure in it and they ended up on the dance floor in fits of giggles—all four of them. She could have sworn she heard the First Sisters join in.

Grimm spent most of the night deep in laughter and conversation with Gaius, Arielle, and Eleanor, teasing Tindle and Dulci mercilessly and pouring drinks for everyone. But every time Agatha looked his direction, he was already looking at her, that wolfish grin of his in place.

“Come, little witch,” he eventually whispered in her ear where she sat in a swing, looking out over her family as the sky began to lighten. “They’re all asleep, and I do believe it is my duty to claim you before the sun rises.”

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

AGATHA

Guinevere 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.

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