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“Excellent!” Then he winked and said, “Please don’t let me keep you.”

After Bluebeard marched away to the lights and music, Zayan grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled him close, saying, “Gods, I don’t know what’s worse: his frown or his smile. And that wink…brrr.”

“He did seem strangely happy,” his handsome date answered. “I wonder what’s up? Thierry sure seemed in a tizzy when he dragged him out of the party, and I’ve never seen anything knock Thierry off his game. But I could swear, Bluebeard smiled at us. It’s so creepy.”

Zayan joked, “You must be mistaken. The all-powerful Mage never deigns to smile. That is for the common folk, not alchemists of his lofty talent.”

“That may be so, but something is up. Thierry didn’t look happy.”

“Does he ever?”

“Well, that may not be strictly true. I almost saw him smile once.”

“No! Do tell.”

Tom looked both ways, checking that the coast was clear—so adorable—before revealing in a stealthy voice, “Remember that beard oil that Beatrice requested? Turns out she had me give it to Thierry to give to Bluebeard.”

This was a fascinating morsel of information. With all his own scheming to seduce Tom while trying to avoid the wrath of Bluebeard, Beatrice had fallen completely off his radar. He hadn’t been watching her at all, but apparently that wasn’t true for his handsome date. Mystified, Zayan asked, “What is she up to? I simply can’t read her. Maybe she’s only being sweet. But now that I think about it, she does seem to have her finger on all the comings and goings of the castle.”

Tom snorted and said, “Mostly the comings, from what I’ve been hearing every night.”

He rolled his eyes theatrically and said, “You and me, both.”

Now he was horny, thinking about the nightly pounding on the ceiling, and having Tom in his arms, waltzing the night away, and that kiss. But did he want to resume his seduction? It would certainly reduce the pressure from Bluebeard if he could report some success on that front, but it felt wrong. Somewhere along the line, Tom had become something more than a conquest, and that snarled up Bluebeard’s plans for seduction. Again, it felt like a betrayal. Those bags of gold made him feel secure, secure and empowered in a way he’d never felt before, but at what cost?

“I think I’m ready to call it an evening,” Tom said.

“That might not be an option,” Zayan answered, pointing to the bright lights of the crowded hall. Charlie and Hoyle were making a beeline for them, and there was no escape.

“Evening, boys,” Hoyle said. “My lovely consort and I are ready to retire, but she has a hankering to lead one more waltz, and I’m shit at following. Can we borrow Tom for a dance?”

“I’d be honored,” Tom said, clearly thrilled.

As she swept him away across the courtyard, already laughing together, Zayan asked, “Do you want to join them? I’m also shit at following, but we could battle for lead.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. The wine is starting to talk, and I’m at that perfect point where I’m happy with how I danced and don’t want to spoil it.”

“I hear you,” Zayan said, and turned his eyes to the courtyard.

Charlie, by all measures, was an excellent lead, guiding Tom through all manner of graceful pivots and turns, and Tom was luminous, eyes wide and smiling, immersed in the joy of it and laughing with Charlie at the occasional misstep. Everything about him was appealing, from his curly hair, now a frightful mess, down to his shiny black shoes.

“He’s an appealing man,” Hoyle said, catching Zayan’s thoughts. “And completely genuine, from what I’ve been able to see. You could do worse, and our Thomas clearly is amenable.”

Zayan looked at him and wondered at his forthright comment. Was it that obvious? Both his attraction and his reservations? He hadn’t done anything to hide it, but lately, he also hadn’t done anything to pursue it. Maybe that should change tonight.

“You know, I think you’re right,” he said, tamping down the worry that this conversation with Hoyle, this impromptu dance and the entire ball, indeed everything in his life, was all orchestrated at the behest of Bluebeard. What was Bluebeard’s game? He must have something brewing, after pouring so much time and attention—and gold—into Tom and him. Did he simply want an assistant, like he said, and some exotic chemical compounds for his spas, or was there something more sinister behind it? Was Hoyle in on the scheme, whatever it was? Probably not. That didn’t seem like something Hoyle would do. Zayan thought, and tried to believe, that he still had control of this one moment in his life.

“Good lad,” Hoyle said, watching his wife twirl Tom across the courtyard and patting Zayan on the back.

Charlie had the audacity to dip Tom at the end of the dance, and he fairly skipped back to them when Charlie released him.

He gushed, “Did you see that? I feel like the belle of the ball. Thanks Charlie, that was a blast.”

“My pleasure, but I’m afraid I’m a hair’s breadth away from turning into a pumpkin, so my beau and I will be leaving you.”

“Me too,” Zayan said, hooking out his arm for Tom. “May I escort you home, fair prince?”

“Wait up a moment,” Tom said, dashing over to the bar and snagging a half-empty bottle. “Would you like to join me for a nightcap? I’m still a bundle of energy.”