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“You do?”

Green eyes flick to mine as I nod, and something hopeful shifts within them. Something vulnerable—there and gone again beforeanyone else can see. Moving forward to clasp her hands, I kiss her cheek and whisper, “Thank you. Truly. I’ve always loved this music box.”

She pulls away awkwardly, pink creeping up her throat. “I know.”

The rest of the exchange passes in a dreamlike haze, my friends’ grins and sparkling eyes softened somehow, almost magical, in the golden glow of the candlelight. Odessa unwraps the mechanical puzzle I bought her while Michal carefully lifts his own gift—a blown-glass oil lamp from Reid—to examine its silver trim. “A housewarming present,” Reid says from the carpet, resting easily against the leg of Odessa’s chair. “Célie gave us a tour of your town house last week. The renovations are impressive.”

“And right across the street too.” Leaning back against Reid’s chest, Lou arches an impish brow at Michal and me before—incredibly—winkingat Filippa and Dimitri, who both pretend not to see. “Such close proximity must be incredibly convenient for all parties involved.”

Michal ignores her, his brow furrowing as he considers the glass lamp. “You have... unexpectedly good taste, huntsman.”

“Of course he does.” Lou beams down at the slip of parchment in her hand. Apparently, she drew her own name in our secret exchange, and she gifted herself the deed to a local tavern, Les Pêches—a tavern rumored to have been owned by a very well-endowed barmaid named Lydia. “Just look at me.”

Though Michal shakes his head, his chest rumbles with suppressed laughter as Dimitri opens an envelope containing a certificate for baking lessons with Johann Pan, courtesy of Coco, and Reid unwraps a leather journal from my mother, who staresdown at the jewelry box in her lap with a stricken expression.

A gift from Michal.

His laughter fades as she turns wide eyes toward him. “Open it,” he says softly. And if the box itself weren’t enough—gilt and ornate, its carved roses set with rubies—the pieces within seem to render my mother speechless. Not because of their fabulous cost—though the diamonds, pearls, and emeralds once fetched a small fortune—but because she recognizes them.Irecognize them too, as does Filippa, who goes very still beside me.

Maman trails trembling fingers across a pearl-encrusted hairpin. The same hairpin my grandmother gave her for her eighteenth birthday.

The same hairpin she sold five years ago to disguise our father’s crippling debt.

Swallowing hard, our mother tears her gaze away from it. “But how—?”

Michal leans forward in his seat, and I don’t think I’ve ever loved him more than in this moment. Though he told me about her gift weeks ago—even asked for my help in confirming the pieces—it is quite different to know than tosee, and the sight of my mother gaping down at her old jewelry, her eyes filling with tears, nearly causes my heart to burst. Abruptly desperate to touch him, to hold him, I seize his hand, and Michal squeezes my fingers gently before saying, “You’ll notice one or two pieces are still missing from the collection. I’m hoping to procure them by the end of the month.”

Maman still seems unable to speak, opening her mouth before closing it again in helpless defeat. At last, she straightens her shoulders and pretends to push back her hair, wiping her eyes discreetlyin the process. “This is— Young man, I cannot—cannotpossiblyaccept such a gift. Really, Monsieur Vasiliev, the expense alone—”

“Joyeux Noël, Satine,” Michal says firmly. “You deserve a bit of happiness.”

Odessa skewers Beau with an odd, pointed look at that. “And in the spirit of pursuing happiness, I would get on with it if I were you.” She lifts her chin toward the bottle of absinthe in his hand, toward the note she attached around its neck written in bold script:For courage.Beau has been staring down at it for the last ten minutes, his thumb sweeping reflexively across the green fairy on the label. His throat working as if unable to remember how to breathe.

“What is she talking about?” Coco asks curiously, still lounging on the rug beside him, Lou, and Reid. Discarded paper litters the floor around them, and lilac ribbons glint in Coco’s long plaits as she turns to grin at Beau, the firelight casting her in a warm and lovely glow. Indeed, when Beau finally glances up at her, it looks like someone has clubbed him over the head. She raises her eyebrows at his dumbfounded expression. “Beau...?” she asks slowly. “Does she mean my gift? Did you draw my name?”

Though Beau coughs to clear his throat, his voice still comes out hoarse. “Yes.”

Coco’s smile falters slightly as she sits up. “What is it? Are you all right?”

He gives a strangled laugh in response, refusing to look at anyone, and I resist the urge to leap forward and drag the ring from his pocket myself.Honestly.Lou and I exchange a long-suffering glance, her turquoise eyes bright with anticipation. Because if Beauregard Lyon still thinks there is even apossibilityCosette Monvoisin will reject him, he is clearly the most oblivious man alive.

“What is this?” Coco’s gaze narrows as it sweeps from Beau to the room at large, all of us waiting with bated breath for him to do it. Toaskher. As if to bolster his brother’s nerve, Reid surreptitiously flicks a finger, and the candlelight dims; the pianoforte in the corner begins to play a soft, crooning melody the next second. Coco stares at everyone, bemused. “You’re all acting veryodd, and if someone doesn’t tell me why in the next three seconds, I’m going to—Oh.”

Her threat ends on a sharp exhalation—her mouth falling open—as the explanation becomes clear the instant she turns back to Beau, who has climbed up to one knee. Face pale yet determined, he holds a small velvet box in one hand.

“I prepared a speech,” he whispers in the abrupt silence of the room. “I mean, I’ve spent the last year dreaming up this exact moment, rehearsing it in the mirror—”

“Of course you did,” Lou says with a delighted cackle.

Reid claps an impatient hand over her mouth, his attention fixed on Beau and Coco.

“—whispering it to myself in quiet moments, on long walks around the castle,” Beau continues determinedly, ignoring them both. “Typically, in my head, it included your name written in the stars, and also lots ofse—that is—” He coughs and glances hastily at my mother before turning back to Coco, who snickers despite the tears filling her eyes. His face softens. “I can’t remember any of it now. All I know is that, once upon a time, I met a beautiful healer named Brie Perrot who enchanted me from that very first minute. Truly, she shouldn’t have paid me any mind. Everyone said so—”

“I didn’t,” Odessa points out.

Beau flashes her an appreciative glance before reaching out to clasp Coco’s hand. “I was a boy when I met you, Coco. An arrogant, stupid—albeit rather dashing—boy. And through you, through my time with everyone here, I’ve grown into someone I hope can make you proud and happy and...” His voice trails away as he releases her hand to flick open the latch of the box, revealing a golden ring with a magnificent ruby centerpiece. Tears spill down Coco’s cheeks now, but she does nothing to wipe them away. Instead she simply stares at Beau, and in her eyes, it is clear he need never write her name in the stars.

To Coco, heisthe stars, and the sun, and the moon; he is her entire universe.