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The first thing I notice about her is how short she is. She barely comes to Pace’s shoulders, and as he approaches her, hands buried deep in his pockets, she turns enough that I can see her features.

She’s beautiful.

Her hair is longer than it was in the picture from her coronation, but the curls are still there, elegant and shiny. She’s wearing a long coat, cinched at the waist, but even from here, I can see that she’s shivering, her eyes full of emotion as Pace’s lips move.

“What’s happening?” Wicker asks from across the room.

“They’re talking.” Immediately, I see the resemblance between mother and son—not so much in looks, but in how they carry themselves, intense and on edge. Odette has her hands shoved into her pockets too, both of their shoulders drawn high. I get the ridiculous notion that Odette also has a lot of security cameras around her house.

“No one looks mad. Odette does look like she’s been crying.” Sure enough, she extricates a hand from her pocket to wipe awaya tear, her brown eyes big and full of grief. Her lips move, and even though I don’t hear it, I see the sob rip through her.

Suddenly, they’re colliding. Her arms wrap around Pace’s waist, and he tucks her into his chest, the embrace hard and so still. I watch for a few moments longer, wondering if this is wrong—if I should give them some privacy. But then Pace turns to rest his cheek on her head and our eyes meet.

Instantly.

He gives me a sad but sweet grin.

Working through the lump in my throat, I let the curtain fall closed. “They’re hugging,” I tell the room, tears welling in my eyes. I know it’s not the same, but something in my chest twists at the return of one of Forsyth’s missing women—even if it isn’t one of my own.

I look at Mama. “I think it’s going to be okay.”

J.J. squawks from the car seat, and I bend over to pick him up. Just as I’m settling him against my shoulder, the door swings open, bringing in a cold gust of air with Pace and Odette’s entrance.

I stand, holding onto the baby as Pace shuts the door behind them.

There’s a brief stretch of electric silence as Odette looks around the room, taking in our expectant faces.

“You know Adeline and Liberty,” Pace says, pointing to the two women. His voice is thick, like he’s holding back tears, too. “And Paul.”

If she’s shocked to see any of them, she doesn’t show it. Pace must have given her a heads-up.

“Pauly,” she says, looking at him fondly. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

He lets out a deep, thick laugh, reaching up to rub his hair-covered chin. “Neither have you. Still fibbing.”

Her face falls and she lingers in front of him, hands wringing. “I couldn’t tell you. I couldn’t tellanyone. If he’d found out who the father was…” Her breath hitches miserably. “Please forgive me.”

Pauly reaches out to tug her into his chest, wrapping her in a hug. “There’s nothing to forgive, Detty. We were both done dirty.” So quiet that I can scarcely make out the words, he whispers, “We made a damn good one, though.”

She pulls back, giving him a tearful smile. “To create is to reign.” Hearing her say the house motto—feeling her conviction in it, even after all she’s been through as a result of it—makes my chest clench. But then she’s turning to my mom, throwing out her arms. “Libby Sinclaire, as I live and breathe. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere,” Mama says, hugging her back. “The years have been good to you, Detty.”

“It was more than the years that were good to me.” She pulls away, approaching Adeline with adoring eyes. “Adeline—my dearest friend.” Their hug seems to last a little longer. A bit tighter. “How did a heart as kind as yours end up in this wretched place?” Odette wonders.

“Sheer stubbornness.” Adeline rubs her back, sending me a wink. “It’s the Princess’ way.”

After greeting her old friends, Odette turns misty eyes onto my Princes.

Pace points. “These are my brothers. Lex and Wicker.”

She approaches them with a calm, radiant smile. “You,” she says to Lex, head tilting as she inspects him. “You’re the protector, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”

He blinks, checking everyone else for our reactions. “You can see what?”

Odette reaches up to cup his cheek, nodding. “An old, fierce soul.” The words themselves might as well be a hug for howstunned he looks at hearing them, a quiet, tender emotion on his face.

“Hey.” Wicker waves, always a pro at breaking the tension. “I’m the pretty one.” He shrugs, sniffing. “It’s been said.”