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Tom was shocked by the outright verbal abuse. He knew Bluebeard had a temper, but he’d never experienced this streak of cruelty. Berating Zayan right here in front of everyone! The Mage had obviously been enjoying some drink, so that may have freed his already largely unconstrained tongue. But still, it was extremely rude.

Bluebeard announced in an even louder voice, with ridicule sparking in his blue eyes, spreading his arms to encompass the dance floor, “Since my apprentice is apparently a master of the dance, if not the sciences, perhaps he would be kind enough to lead us in the Highland Quadrille.”

“I don’t know this one,” Tom whispered, looking with terror at the empty dance floor. Would they need to dance all by themselves, with everyone watching?

But Zayan squared his shoulders, clearly up for the challenge. “Watch me and mirror what I do. We can fake our way through the first figure.”

Under the mocking scrutiny of the Mage, Zayan extended his hand to Tom and bowed deeply, saying, “If I may?”

As the orchestra began, Tom gave up all hope of success and simply wished to the stars he wouldn’t trip his handsome partner and spill them both on their asses. Zayan glided him onto the floor and spun him confidently under his arm, placing him in front and taking both of his hands.

“You’re doing beautifully,” Zayan said. “Ignore Bluebeard and let me show you off.”

Tom followed as best as he could as Zayan led him forward and back, in graceful circles, and palm-to-palm turning a small circle around each other. Zayan’s touch was light but confident, guiding him through each new step. The rest of the room disappeared as he watched Zayan, ceding all control to him and allowing himself to look, and see, and appreciate all of Zayan’s handsome talent. In Zayan’s arms, he felt confident, and a gentle warmth stirred in his heart. Was he falling for Zayan? Or, looking at it realistically, had he already fallen long ago, back when he first met him in the real world?

After barely a dozen turns, entirely too soon for Tom, the music slowed to a halt and the floor filled with dancers around them. The Mage and his wife took a position opposite them, Hoyle and Charlie flanked them on the right, and a couple he didn’t know filled the remaining space. Before the music resumed, Zayan squeezed his hand and whispered, “Watch Beatrice and do everything she does.”

He looked over at her, and she winked. He could do this, with Zayan leading the way.

Although he didn’t remember any of the steps that Zayan led him through, he soon realized the dance was the same, simply with more people. As Zayan suggested, he watched Beatrice, striving to stay opposite her as he passed from Zayan to Hoyle.

“Enjoying yourself?” Hoyle asked as they turned a boisterous, if not perfectly circular, circle.

He thought for a second and said, “Yes, I am. Quite a lot.”

“Good luck with the next figure,” Hoyle said with a grin, guiding him to the center of the circle to touch hands in a turning star with the three women.

He felt himself plucked from the center by Bluebeard’s strong hands, spinning with a firm hand on his lower back. It was entirely different from the deft touch he enjoyed with Zayan, and Hoyle’s energetic embrace. Bluebeard was forceful in his dance, brooking no deviation, marching him through the next figure, a promenade around the circle. His lead was confident, like he was trying to prove something, but there were slight lapses, moments of indecision transmitted through his hands. It was clear the drink was catching up with him. Tom kept a wary eye on Beatrice, matching her step for step to avoid potential disaster. It would have been embarrassing to trip Zayan or Hoyle on the dance floor, but unthinkable to do the same to the Mage.

As the dance progressed, he found himself passed to the remaining gentleman, finally returning to Zayan’s arms for a final figure. He felt triumphant as they did the last few steps, allowing himself the affectation of a gracefully posed wrist, a pointed toe, when the dance allowed.

With the final note, Zayan gave another deep bow. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bluebeard turn and leave the floor without uttering a word, Beatrice hurrying to follow behind. But this mattered not in the least. He reserved his attention entirely for his date. Zayan offered his arm, gliding them toward the open doors to the courtyard.

“I’m sorry Bluebeard was so…” Tom started.

Zayan released his arm and said, “Let’s not talk about the Mage,” taking his hand and spinning him on the flagstones. Then he was in Zayan’s arms, swaying to the quiet melody of the orchestra drifting from the dance floor inside, harmonizing with the crickets hiding in the cracks of the castle walls.

Overcome by the romance of it, Tom said what he hadn’t dared to say. He was never good at hiding his emotions or holding his tongue.

“I missed you these last few months. I miss your smile and your humor. I know you’ve been doing important work, but it’s been difficult.”

“I know. Come here and be with me now.”

Zayan pulled him in tight, laying his cheek against Tom’s, close enough that Tom smelled faint traces of sulfur in his hair. He supposed that was one of the many unique pleasures of dating an alchemist, if they were even dating. What would it be like to kiss an alchemist? The music and the crickets and the champagne and, strangely, even the incident with Bluebeard seemed to be conspiring to lead them there.

Zayan pulled back and said, “I’d like to kiss you now.”

“Yes,” Tom said, feeling his lips run on with words instead of doing what they should be doing. “Oh yes, I think so. Very much yes.”

CHAPTER 22

Bluebeard demanded, “Where are my blasted apprentices?”

His wife answered, “I saw them last heading out to the courtyard.”

It was infuriating! They needed to be on the dance floor. Dancing was the very definition of romance, and if it finally provided the way to bring the two boys together, the extravagant evening would be worth the bother. He had already tried his best to coax them to the floor, but after their shameful performance with the quadrille, swanning about like ignorant fools, he despaired of the effectiveness of any of the formal dances. Fortunately, they would probably perform adequately in the waltzes, and waltzes were synonymous with love. He had snared more than a few of his wives with his athletic Viennese. This would be the perfect opportunity for Zayan to seal his relationship with Thomas. If he must, he would drag them both bodily out to the dance floor.

As he moved to the door, Beatrice caught his arm and said, “Perhaps, give them a moment. They’re young and they don’t understand yet that they need a firm hand to guide them. The night is still young. I’ll coax them back to the party later.”