Page 120 of The Alchemists

“If you need to leave, we will.”

“Okay.”

He squeezed her hand, then slid out of the car and opened her door. The bare spring breeze flowed around her legs, pulling the silk of her dress with it, fanning it out like a wave. Seb offered his arm, and she took it, her fingers digging into the seam of his sleeve.

She counted the steps as they ascended, wishing that Zeno’s paradox also applied to the number of stairs between you and your evil grandparents, but all at once the golden, gaping maw of Hemlock Hall was before her. A butler opened the door, and they swept into the grand foyer, their shoes clicking on marble. Their coats were whisked away, and they were pressed into a receiving line, at the end of which stood Hawthorn and Helena Bellarius.

Lily’s stomach dropped all the way into their wine cellar. Her hand was sweaty in Sebastian’s and he twined their fingers together, clutching hers so hard that no one would have been able to pull them apart without breaking fingers.

“You don’t need to say anything,” Seb said, ducking his head close, and she nodded stiffly.

Then they were in front of her. Both of them had silver hair, sleek and full, but her grandmother was brown-eyed, where her grandfather’s eyes were pale as ice. He was dapper; he still looked fit and powerful. Her grandmother looked like an expensive husk, hollowed out by everything she’d denied herself. Both of them wore black, eating all the light in a sea of jewel tones.

Her grandfather grinned cliquishly at Seb as he grasped him by the elbow and pumped his arm with both hands. Seb grinned back convincingly.

“Mr. Allsaires! A pleasure to have you at Hemlock Hall again. It’s almost a shame your odds are so high for the tournament this year—it’s made a mockery of the betting.”

“Ah.” Seb leaned in conspiratorially. “But we all know betting is off limits, Mr. Bellarius.”

Lily hadn’t really met this Sebastian yet, the one who slid through the highest social strata like an eel, and she was trying very hard not to hate him.

“Of course, of course.” Her grandfather chucked him on the shoulder like they were old prep school pals. “And you remember my wife, Helena?”

“How could I forget?” He took her drooping hand and, thankfully, did not kiss it.

“And who is your charming companion this evening?”

Lily started. She’d been staring at the waiting ballroom, her armpits prickling with sweat that couldn’t leave her body, thanks to one of Tori’s enchantments, and found herself jerked back into her skin. Accidentally, she met her grandfather’s eyes. They were nothing like hers or like her mother’s.

Who is your charming companion?

Really?

Charming, of course, when she was mute. Could they really not know, or was this a game, a test? Seb cut in before she had to open her mouth and risk implosion.

“How rude of me,” Seb demurred. “This is Lily; she’s a sophomore.”

“Wonderful to make your acquaintance. Enjoy all that Hemlock Hall has to offer, my dear.”

Her grandfather took her hand, kissed it. Her grandmother stared at her like a bug she wanted to crush under her age-appropriate heels. A game, then.

And then they were free. Seb guided her into the sparkling ballroom, topped with a giant glass and iron dome. Six very long tables flanked the dance floor, set for dinner, each of them with a runner in the schools’ colors. The longest table, directly across from the entrance, was grander than the others, festooned in Windermere’s navy and gold.

Currently, the dance floor was taken up by an array of bodies enjoying cocktails, champagne, and canapés. They stilled and pretended—poorly—not to swivel and stare as Sebastian entered the hall with Lily on his arm. Sebastian soaked up the attention; if he were a sunflower, you’d have been able to see his petals unfold. Lily tried not to wilt.

He swiped two flutes of champagne and handed one to her, gazing intently.

“What?” Lily asked grumpily, trying not to flush.

“I…” She watched the red creep up his neck. “I know I said it before, but you look…radiant.”

“Seb—”

“I used to have dreams about you⁠—”

“Sebastian—”

He shushed her. “In them, you were the moon. And I was drowning. But now…”