by Crook, Amy
Duckworth looked surprised, and not pleasantly, before he smiled with a false smoothness and said, “Yes, how did you guess?”
“We were in classes together at school, remember?” said Alex. The fog was masking something, but that familiarity was there, hiding beneath the bland, almost staticky magic. “You were really quite good, for someone who was just dabbling.”
“Well, we can’t all make a career of it,” said Duckworth, and there was that sharpness to his expression again.
“I bet he doesn’t get a kiss, with that thing on his face,” said Alex, nodding to Julian dancing with Strathmore. Julian seemed to be holding himself as far back as possible, as though afraid of being mauled by the great beak.
Duckworth looked away, and Alex let out the quietest hum he could to focus himself for one good stab past the fog to the man’s personal magic. “No, I don’t suppose he will, at that,” said Duckworth.
Alex chuckled, but underneath his smile he was certain. Whoever else had been involved, Duckworth was their mage. “I’m for a drink,” said Alex, fingers still on the charm. There was something about the fog that he didn’t trust, something besides the way it masked whatever magic was hiding beneath it, though that one good listen had assured Alex that there was something there besides just Duckworth.
“You do enjoy your gin,” said Duckworth, his tone jovial and amused.
Alex just smirked and moved off toward the bar. He ordered his usual sparkling water “cocktail,” then got out his phone and texted everyone he could think of, starting with his Guardians, trying to make it look like he was checking the gossip sites.
Jacques pulled out his phone while Alex sighed and pulled up one of them. “Well, I’m on someone’s list for something, anyway,” he said wryly and just a touch too loud.
Jacques nodded, chuckling. “You do look a bit like a dandelion, they’re not that far off,” he said.
“A half-blown one, at that,” put in James.
Jacques poked his phone a bit more and then grinned. “You’re still ranked pretty high, though there’s definitely gossip moving Winston-Smythe up in the rankings now,” said Jacques, looking quite as though all that concerned him was the gossip.
A text came in, and Alex breathed a little easier, knowing Smedley at least had gotten his warning. He hadn’t texted Julian yet, but he felt like he ought to warn him somehow that Duckworth had something up his sleeve, possibly literally. “I don’t know how they rank us anyway,” he said instead, hoping Jacques would understand.
“I’ll work it out,” said Jacques with a grin. “Don’t worry.” He bumped Alex’s shoulder, and Alex felt something weighing down his jacket pocket.
It didn’t really reassure him when he figured out it was one of Jacques’ many knives.
CHAPTER 28
In Which Dances Are Danced and a Decision is Made Rather Publicly
As predicted, Julian didn’t try to kiss under the falcon’s beak, and his second set of dances ended with another unhappy Suitor stomping off to the bar. It wasn’t polite to approach him while he was resting with Emmeline, but Alex saw him pull out his phone and show Emmeline. He just hoped it was Jacques’ message and not just gossip sites they were sharing.
Alex ran through the list of Suitors-cum-suspects in his head again, and then let the crowd meander him over toward Archibald Cruther, the cheerful hedgehog. “I’m having a hard enough time not poking anyone with my outfit, you must be going crazy,” said Alex casually.
Cruther laughed, but it was light and happy. “Oh, yes, I’ve had a couple of ladies complain I’ve snagged their dresses,” he said. “Still waiting on your dance, I see.”
Alex chuckled, passing his empty drink off to a waiter and then casually hooking his hand into the pocket with the watch fob. “He’s worth the wait,” said Alex, glancing out to the dance floor so his unfocused expression wouldn’t be too suspicious.
“That he is,” said Cruther, and this time there was a soft quality to his tone that reminded Alex that he wasn’t the only one who might have grown fond of Julian.
Alex shoved the thought away and hummed a soft little note under his breath, letting that and the charm bring Cruther’s magic into focus, but the man had little to hide. His personal magic was quiet and simple, and Alex thought he was perhaps the most un-magical person Alex had ever bothered to listen to. They stood together a moment longer watching Julian with his sister, then drifted apart by mutual consent, neither allies nor enemies.
Alex found himself over with Whitby Chilcott again, and his smile was genuine as he said, “You know, you’ve got an admirer of your own.”
Chilcott blinked, then cocked his head. “I do?” he asked, looking around as if the person in question would suddenly appear.
Alex grinned. “You do, one of our fellows with hopes of being a consort rather than master.”
“Barnes?” said Chilcott, though the tone wasn’t so much shocked as intrigued. “How do you know he fancies me?”
“He told me so,” said Alex. “He’s quite relieved to be done with the Courting business tonight, one way or the other.”
Chilcott’s eyes had found Barnes and his sparkling fountain, where he was talking to Willoughby around the other side of the dance floor. “I shall keep that in mind, should I fail to win our Julian.”
Alex smiled, enjoying the feeling of playing matchmaker, a position he was rarely in. “He seems quite clever, in his way.”
Chilcott chuckled, “Yes, I was sitting closer to him at dinner than you were, we talked a bit. Though of course he was still pretending to Court Julian then.”
“He seems happier now that he can stop with all that,” said Alex. “Perhaps you two can chat while we wait for our turn with Julian.” Alex had been moving a little, the conversation pulling Chilcott along with him, so they were now much closer to where Barnes was staring raptly at Willoughby and his flickering moth mask.
“Perhaps we can,” said Chilcott, and he gave up the pretence of following and stepped right up to Willoughby and Barnes, leaving Alex and his Guardians a few steps behind.
Barnes blinked and then turned a radiant smile on Chilcott that made Alex both a bit envious and glad he’d made good on his promise. Alex stayed where he was and gripped his charm, eyes on Willoughby as he hummed softly, willing himself to actually focus on the man.
The first thing he heard was an insidious, almost mesmerising little tune that he traced to the mask, those flickers of moth-wings doing more than just adding a touch of realism. Beneath that there was the same plethora of personal-care charms Alex remembered from the Courtship dinner, a bland, impersonal barrage of sounds that further confused the man’s personal magic. But this time Alex was determined, and he winnowed out the thread, following it until he was nearly sure that he’d found the second man.
His concentration was broken when James bumped against him as if by accident, but when he blinked he realised that he was the last of the remaining seven Suitors to take his place for the next dance set.
Julian looked around and, much to Alex’s relief, he chose Chilcott’s green man for the first dance of the third set.
Alex stepped back into the crowd, feeling very conspicuous as he toyed with his phone, texting Jacques and Lapointe that Willoughby was the one to watch, and that they should spread the word for him. He pocketed his phone and gave a little shiver. “I’m wound up tight as a spring,” said Alex, sighing.
“You should get something with a bit of sugar in it,” said James, brushing his fingers against Alex’s. “Your hands are cold as ice.”
“I bet there’s hot spiced cider,” said Alex, turning to head for the bar. “Julian loves it.”
“That would be good, or hot chocolate,” said James. “You need to keep your energy up.” It didn’t need adding that it wasn’t just for the dancing.
“Are you two allowed a cup of something?” asked Alex. “I get the feeling it will all go quietly for a bit longer.”
“He won�
�t risk disrupting things before his dance,” agreed Jacques, and so Alex ordered three ciders. They could have hot chocolate or even coffee later, for the extra caffeine boost.
Alex sipped his drink, and watched Julian dance with Chilcott, trying to work out how he’d feel if Julian ended up with the other man. Chilcott was likely a better candidate for the actual work of being master-husband of the St. Albans estate, but Alex wasn’t sure he could stand to watch it happen.
Fortunately, if he didn’t marry Julian, Alex could go back to being the anonymous black sheep and drown his sorrows, preferably in Dr. Tamlinson’s intriguing arms. As soon as they were both fully healed, anyway.
Alex sighed and stepped forward as the song came to a close and Chilcott got a rather longer kiss than most. If he made Julian happy, perhaps Alex could tell himself that was enough.
Willoughby was the next tapped, and suddenly Alex was glad of the sugar he was ingesting. He stayed at the front of the crowd this time, watching as Willoughby turned and twirled Julian, that moth fluttering the whole time. Julian smiled and laughed, his full attention on Willoughby’s face, and Alex found it hard to tell if he was being enchanted or not. He did seem to take on a bit too adoring of a look by the end, but the kiss he gave Willoughby was short and chaste.
Alex breathed a sigh of relief as Willoughby vanished back into the crowd and Julian chose Chudleigh’s warm sunshine for the last dance of the set. He texted Lapointe, figuring she had the best chance of getting close to Emmeline, to watch Julian for signs of enchantment, and then went and got them all hot cocoa with a shot of espresso in each.
“An excellent choice,” said James, amused as he traded his empty cider cup for the very fancy coffee drink. The bartender had heaped on whipped cream and chocolate curls, and the whole thing was served in a glass cup.
Alex chuckled. “Caffeine is good,” he said, and then he sucked all the whipped cream off the top of his with absolutely no manners whatsoever. “Sugar, also good.”
The Guardians laughed and managed their own drinks with rather more dignity though just as much alacrity, the three of them staying clustered in the lee of the bar while they did so. Alex had a feeling this was the last chance he was going to get to sneak in a bit more caffeine. They were done and standing at the edge of the dance floor with O’Connor and Duckworth when Julian stood, and Alex even remembered to whistle a breath-freshening charm to get rid of the taste of stale coffee.
O’Connor was tapped first, and Alex took the opportunity to drag the Guardians off to the men’s room and make sure everything about himself was ready to go. He double checked that the spell on the headpiece was still sparking as it should, and would recede and fluff back up when required, and then made it back out just in time for the song to end.
Julian walked over to him with a warm smile on his face, and for one moment Alex forgot everything about why they were there except for Julian. He handed his cane off to Jacques and smiled right back, stepping forward to meet Julian just inside the empty circle.
“How long did you argue with your designer about this?” asked Julian, brushing his fingers over the dandelion-spread of magic waves.
Alex laughed. “Not long enough, apparently,” he said, leading Julian out onto the dance floor. “Does it look that silly?”
Julian giggled. “No, it’s just odd, I know it’s meant to be magic but since you hear rather than see it, it’s just…”
“Not what you were expecting,” said Alex, amused. He whistled a little tune at Horace, who trilled right back, and then whistled another to add a tiny suggestion into Horace’s already-complex range of functions.
Julian giggled when Horace trilled back again, and then said mock-sternly, “You’re meant to be talking to me, not my costume.”
Alex grinned. “I’m not the one who decided to wear Horace,” he teased, and then his face softened. “How are you holding up?”
“I am so tired of this stupid jacket,” said Julian with a chuckle, “and the apple jokes! Ugh. And did you see that horrible falcon mask?”
“Still not as creepy as Duckworth’s fog, though,” said Alex with just a hint of seriousness.
Julian sighed. “I wanted to save you for last, but I wasn’t quite brave enough. It’s too bad I can’t just forget him entirely.”
“Horace will protect you,” said Alex, warm and affectionate. “And then Emmeline, she’d punch him somewhere the fog can’t hide, I expect.”
Julian laughed, delightfully scandalised, and for a moment it was like they were at home and none of the rest was important. “And you, wouldn’t you?” he asked softly, eyes searching Alex’s face, or what he could see of it under the mask.
“To my last breath,” said Alex, “And my Guardians would help, too.” James and Jacques weren’t at his back now, which made Alex feel terribly exposed, but they were prowling the edge of the dance floor in opposite directions, alert for any danger.
“It’s hard to be this close and not kiss you,” said Julian quietly, looking up at Alex rather adoringly.
Alex blushed. “It is, you’ve spoiled me with all our visits,” he said. “But if I win you, you can have all the kisses you want.”
“Promise?” asked Julian, giggling.
“Promise,” said Alex, and then he paused and added, “Horace will witness.”
They laughed together, and talked about silly little things for the rest of the dance, which struck Alex as far better than being forced to go over their plans for the future there in front of dozens of guests and gossipers. When the song came to a close, Julian reached up and cupped Alex’s cheek, tugging him down for a soft, lingering kiss. “I’ll be careful, I have your charm,” he whispered, then kissed him again.
Alex straightened, blushing as if it had been a proposition that Julian had whispered. “I know you will, love,” he said. He touched Julian’s cheek, then made himself turn away, breathe deeply, and allow Julian to walk right into Duckworth’s fog.
For all the suspense, Duckworth’s dance was no different from the others, a waltz that ended in a quick, chaste kiss before Duckworth handed Julian off to Emmeline for their rest before the final dance set.
The unassuming Entwistle got the coveted last spot, which Alex enjoyed because it confused the gossips. He wondered if anyone else realised that Julian had wanted his last Suitor to be someone entirely unthreatening, and was unsurprised when no kiss was forthcoming at the end. Emmeline and Julian’s final dance was short, in deference to the long night, and then back up the stairs they went, everyone applauding.
“So, what happens now?” asked Jacques, as waiters began circulating with champagne and sparkling juice.
“Julian and Emmeline will decide on either a single suitor for Julian to choose, ending the Courtship here, or a list of seven Suitors to move on to the next round. With that list, later is better, but also more nerve-racking,” said Alex with a chuckle. “They’ve only got a little while, so most of the decisions would already have been made, usually a Masquerade is the option for a consort who isn’t sure about the middle of the pack and wants one more chance to be wooed before he makes his final decision.”
“Which would make sense, given one of his front-runners was just murdered,” said James in a low voice, too quiet to carry past their little trio.
“It would definitely muddy the waters, yes,” said Alex.
Alex accepted a glass of sparkling juice, not wanting to muddle himself with any alcohol, and then he had to make sure not to drink it all before Julian emerged. It was traditional to toast the consort-to-be before he made his announcement. The minutes seemed to drag on interminably, while the police worked on getting warrants or whatever else they needed based on Alex’s magical identification, and the clock ticked down to Julian’s decision.
Finally Julian emerged, looking refreshed and smiling. There was an amplification spell on the balcony at the top of the stairs, and Julian stepped into it with a smile. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate my Courts
hip with me, and participate in my Masquerade,” he said, saluting them with his own drink.
They toasted back as a crowd, everyone taking at least a sip, then going quiet as they waited for the news.
“I have decided to take as my master-husband,” said Julian.
Horace chirped, turned, and bit him on the ear.
Julian’s face underwent an odd transformation from the warm, cheerful smile through confusion to pain, almost in slow-motion. “Ow! I, oh. Oh! I, er, I’ve decided to take Alex Benedict,” finished Julian.
Alex swallowed, handed off his glass to whoever was nearby to take it, and stepped up to the bottom of the stairs.
That was, of course, when chaos descended.
CHAPTER 29
In Which Battles Are Fought
Fog rolled out, presumably from Duckworth, to envelop the entire ballroom and creep up the stairs toward Julian. “We’ve got to keep Julian safe,” said Alex.
“We’ve got to keep you safe first, and we can’t see a thing,” said James.
“Right,” said Alex. “Let me try something.” He felt around until he was literally holding onto James’ pocket, so there was no question of his location. Then he firmly rapped his cane on the marble floor to ground himself, and started humming at any sources of magical light in the place, including his own costume. He hummed brightness to them, and clarity, and watched as objects around him began to glow, lighting up the fog like beacons.
“You are such a target right now,” said Jacques irritably.
“Right, sorry,” said Alex, whistling his own headdress down, then resuming his little duet with the other light sources in the room. The ceiling lights were especially receptive, since the ideas of bright and clear were already part of their makeup, though Alex could see the glow from Chudleigh’s sun off to one side of the ballroom, as well as many smaller lights here and there that were all together starting to burn off the fog.
Alex felt himself tugged back and a whisper of, “Stairs,” warned him to step up, but he kept humming, softly but surely, trying to dispel the fog so they could see the inevitable attack when it came.