“That suits you,” Rakos says with a grin. Bell grins back, his eyes as bright as the lanterns. In his hands, the wreath seems to blossom, the petals deepening in color. “It isn’t for me. Duck down.” “Seriously?” Rakos asks, but obeys. He closes his eyes as Bell sets the crown on his head, and the fragrance of the flowers surrounds him. Bell’s fingertips brush through his hair as he pulls away. Bell reaches up again and adjusts Rakos’s new crown. “It suits you.” “Fucking adorable,” Petunia chimes in. “Now scram.
