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CHAPTER 30
The stupid fool let himself fall in love. Bluebeard could easily see that Zayan wasn’t faking it any longer. He himself had been faking love for centuries, and it didn’t look like this. He didn’t know how this true love would affect his plan, but whatever the outcome, he was certain he could put it to use.
“What’s on your agenda today, Huggybear?” Zayan asked, batting his dark lashes. Disgusting. The man had no shame.
“Counting the hours until I’m with you tonight, Goldfinger,” Tom said with a lusty leer.
Zayan teased, “You do know he was the bad guy, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re soooo good. How about my mighty Midas? Come here and give me your golden touch.”
“Also bad, and ugh, even worse,” Zayan said before stealing a kiss.
“Zaruman the Tight, er, White? You know how I love your magical…”
It was nauseating, all those gooey eyes and tender glances. Seemingly overnight, the dining table had become intolerable, with them sharing morsels of meat and sneaking kisses between glasses of wine. Charlie and Hoyle were even worse. Didn’t they have any shred of propriety left? Gallivanting like schoolchildren, sneaking away behind the greenhouse to do God only knew what. Perhaps he should separate them on opposite sides of the table. But no, that was sure to be worse, with all the wistful glances and pining.
Despite the sickening spectacle, Bluebeard had to admit their love potion was an inspired idea. The raw materials, a handful of herbs, cost pennies, but he’d be able to demand a small fortune for it. It would all be in the marketing since it was an odd concept, only having effect if the buyer was already in love. Bluebeard felt nothing, just a pleasant herbal scent, and he hadn’t asked Thierry if he got a response. Had his steward ever been in love? He’d never thought to ask. Perhaps he had a paramour tucked away in Riverford, or more likely, he never allowed himself to fall in love. What if only one partner was in love? Would it still work for unrequited love? That would surely be intolerable, but it didn’t matter one way or the other, since there wouldn’t be any market for that.
Perhaps the point was moot—they may not need to find a specialized market. They could churn the stuff out by the gallon, and tincture that into vats. They were doing the entire prep in Tom’s laboratory, using modern equipment, all except the final exaltation. He didn’t quite know what to think about that. It seemed like a bastardization, a diminishment, of the Great Work. Whatever it was, it was bound to be lucrative.
But the stupid boy had fallen in love. That was never part of the plan. He was supposed to remain strong and detached, to simplify the endgame. But thinking about it, maybe this was even better. After all, his own deep love for his dear Annabella had provided the seeds for his entire operation. Perhaps his apprentice would put the same dynamic to use when he was ultimately put to the test, and yield a result to exceed his already high expectations.
Thierry bustled into the hall, saying, “Mage Bluebeard, you’re needed at the front gate.”
Bluebeard thanked the gods and all that’s holy. He didn’t think he could endure another moment in the presence of the ghastly love scenes playing out at his table.
As Thierry led him to the gatehouse, it was apparent what needed attention. The Chief Constable waited in Thierry’s office, trying to look concerned. At least he was making an effort at the theater, but there was no question about the script. Bluebeard could do nothing but sigh. He didn’t have the time or energy for this today, but there was no putting it off. Perhaps with a few choice words, he could cut it shorter than usual.
He held out his hand to the Constable, saying, “Victor, good to see you. How are the children?”
“They’re fine. Giles, about your wife. We’ve been getting…”
Bluebeard interrupted, “Splendid. I hear that your eldest has been accepted to Cynchester University. That is a high honor.” And very expensive.
“Yes, we’re very proud. About your wife’s continued absence…”
“An extended stay with her family. Nothing to worry about. And your young daughters…I hear they’re showing talents in the arts. I imagine they’ll be wanting to attend the Conservatory.” Since the good Constable wasn’t getting the hint, he said it out loud this time. “That promises to be a great expense.”
The Constable blinked and went silent, finally realizing they were already in negotiations. “Yes, certainly, Giles. Tuition is higher than ever, and there will be housing and travel.”
“I imagine, and with inflation, gold doesn’t stretch nearly as far as it once did. I remember my studies cost barely a hundred, but today, it must be twice that. Is that close to what you’re budgeting?”
“Yes, I’m hoping two hundred will be sufficient to cover the cost of their education. The amount, of course, will depend on their performance.”
“I’m certain they will apply themselves to their studies and create no undue worries. Is there anything else you require?”
“No. It’s been a pleasure, Giles, although my back does not welcome the long ride to the Château. Let’s hope I don’t find a reason to make the trip again in the near future.”
Bluebeard tamped down his temper and let Thierry usher the wretch to the stables. Reasons indeed. If that was a thinly veiled attempt at blackmail, he had other resources at his disposal, and this inconsequential man’s aching back might find itself out on the street or in the ground. It wouldn’t be the first time he installed a more cooperative Constable.
“Mage Bluebeard,” Thierry said, returning to the office, “if you have a moment, there is the matter of the new Elixir.”
More disappointments. What did he ever do to deserve such misfortune? “Give me the bad news.”
“We’ll need to remove additional clients from the list.”
“How many?”
