Page 34 of Bluebeard’s Key

Precisely on cue, the ceiling started to creak, squeaking out a steady rhythm, building step by powerful step to a barrage.

“They’re playing our song,” Tom joked.

“You should hear it in my room,” Zayan said with much sarcasm, but tonight, he welcomed the sound. The Mage was clearly happy, a rare occurrence for him, and it was good to hear him sharing some of that happiness with his wife. They seemed strangely suited for one another, and he was encouraged that her fancy ball was bringing them together. He only hoped he could build a relationship as strong with Tom, despite the shameful circumstances that brought them together. He had to admit he was falling for this adorable chemist, and he was eager to find out how far they could go together.

Tom snagged his tie off the bed and looped it around Zayan’s neck, reeling him in close and saying, “We’ll try your room next time. Tonight, this fair prince awaits, cowering on his four-poster bed without a stitch of clothing, daring not to defy the lecherous advances of the evil and remarkably well-hung lord of the castle. Whatever will he do?”

CHAPTER 24

Autumn at Château des Fleurs swept in with cool breezes and breathtaking sights. The forest shed its vibrant greens, surrounding the castle in every shade of gold and red and orange, and Tom took every opportunity to enjoy it. He went riding with Zayan to Riverford, his gentle Hollyhock and fiery Stormfire kicking up a flurry of colored leaves with every step. He hiked with Zayan to the promontory, contrasting the blue of the sea with the flaming color of the forest. But mainly, he struggled to understand and accept the astounding physicality of Zayan, kissing him, undressing him, exploring new passions under the sheets with him, and waking each morning with him. Truly, the gods had never fashioned a more perfect expression of masculine beauty.

One bright afternoon, Zayan flew into his lab with a crucible, a black ceramic tile, and eyes filled to the brim with glee. With no preamble, he asked, “Hey Huggybear, do you have any nitric acid? I’d ask Bluebeard, but he’s in one of his moods today.”

Yes, Zayan had a pet name for him. His heart sang every time.

He answered, setting his rack of test tubes down and giving Zayan his full attention, “I hear you, and I have plenty. What’s up?”

It was such a pleasure to see. Over the past weeks, Zayan had been alternately manic and deep in depression about his work, but today, his feet barely touched the floor in his excitement to share.

“Look!” he said, thrusting the crucible into Tom’s hands, unable to articulate another word.

“Very pretty. It looks like gold. Did you do some electroplating?”

Zayan gushed, “It is gold! And I made it! From lead!”

Tom gave him a hard look and said, “You’re joking.”

“No! I made it! At least I hope I did. Please, please, Huggybear, help me test it. I can barely believe it myself. I need an objective opinion, and you’re the only person I trust.”

Tom marveled at this new Zayan. His current success, if it was indeed a success, had unlocked something in him and changed him into a chatterbox. It reminded him of, well, himself. He’d never been able to constrain his happiness, and good thing too. Happiness was something to enjoy and share. He gave Zayan another skeptical look, but playfully raised his eyebrows, letting Zayan’s high mood infect him. He went to his safety cabinet and retrieved the stoppered glass bottle of acid, and together, they chiseled the hunk of “gold” from the crucible.

“Looks like gold,” Tom said, and it did. “You’re not pulling my leg?”

Zayan was too focused on the task to answer, instead continuing to gush. “Do you have wire cutters or something like that?”

“Sure,” he said, grabbing the toolbox from the shelf in the back.

“See if it’s gold all the way through.”

Zayan hovered expectantly as Tom snipped it into four pieces.

“Looks like gold all the way through,” he said. He was starting to be convinced. If this was truly gold, it was probably a full ounce. Nothing to sneeze at.

“Scratch test,” Zayan demanded breathlessly, handing Tom the tile. “Do the scratch test.”

“And that is?”

“Scratch it on the tile, then test the mark with the acid. If it’s real gold, it won’t dissolve. Please do it—do it now. I’m sorry, but I can’t watch. Tell me when you’re done.”

Zayan closed his eyes and bounced in little circles and wrung his hands as Tom scratched and dribbled.

“Have a look,” Tom said, letting his doubts evaporate entirely. There it was, written clearly for all to see: three gold marks shining brightly on the black tile, sparkling under the film of acid.

“It’s true,” Zayan breathed, wonder filling his eyes to the absolute brim. “It’s really true. I transmuted the elements, like he said I could.”

Tom, always the scientist, put on his devil’s advocate hat and asked, “Are you sure Bluebeard didn’t, um, I don’t know, do a bait and switch? He’s a shifty one, as we both know, and we still don’t know anything about his mysterious plan for you and me.”

“No, I’m certain. I’ve been skeptical about the whole alchemy thing ever since he started me on it, so I watched out for anything that looked shady. I did every step myself, by myself, and I double-checked every ingredient to make sure he didn’t slip something in. This is all me. I made gold.”