Page 121 of The Alchemists

Lily swallowed, trying not to think of Cornelius Windermere and his Argent Lune. “Now what?”

He laughed, a single breath. “It’s so obvious now. You’re the sun.”

“Seb—” He didn’t cut her off, but she didn’t know what else to say. She knew what she should say—that she couldn’t be the sun, because the sun wasn’t scheduled to die for another billion billion years or so.

“We can’t both be the sun,” she said instead, taking his hand. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

It was true. In a rich navy tuxedo with a spray of gold at his breast pocket, his hair waving softly over his forehead, he was stunning. More improbable for being real and being hers.

He pressed his forehead and nose to hers; far too intimate a gesture for the moment, but instead of embarrassment, pride flushed through her.

“I love you, Sebastian.”

His eyes fluttered closed, his lashes brushing her cheeks. “And I love you, Lily Perkins.” They pulled apart. “Come on, let’s find our people.”

They found Tori and Asher with their respective dates near the Windermere table, bothering—or entertaining—Professor Chant; Lily wasn’t sure which. Tori had finally accomplished an apparently long-standing goal of getting Liesl Edinger to go out with her, and Liesl was dashing in a forest-green tuxedo and glittering stilettos. On her arm, Tori was sleeker than ever, in a long-sleeved burgundy wrap dress with a V that went almost to her navel and a skirt whose epic slit seemed to find every occasion to reveal her legs.

Asher, clad in an aubergine velvet suit that only he could possibly pull off, was drinking cocktails with his date for the evening, Daphne. She wore a romantic sweep of soft lavender tulle and chiffon. When Asher’s girlfriend had failed to claim one of the coveted, lottery-based, non-participant slots for Dunmoody, Lily had suggested that he bring Daphne, and the two of them, along with Chant, were deep in a spell-assisted signing conversation about a painter, which Lily could only half-follow.

“Ah, here’s the man of the hour!” Asher said loudly, punching Sebastian’s shoulder with jovial, prep-school mockery. It was meant to embarrass him. It worked.

Seb, blushing, ducked his head. “Shut up, Asher.”

“Certainly, old chap!”

For the first time that evening, Lily exhaled, and it became laughter. She took another sip of champagne. The bubbles lifted her mood. Seb’s hand no longer felt like a lifeline, just warmth. Something at the entrance of the ballroom caught his eye, and he raised his chin in greeting.

Lily followed his gaze to a young man and woman standing shoulder to shoulder in the entrance. They matched, in a dusky teal that brought out the rich warmth of their ocher-brown skin. Both of them had the same glossy dark hair, the same sparkling eyes.

“The Twins,” Seb said, almost breathlessly. “I’ll be right back,” he said, already threading toward them through the crowd.

Lily knew the names vaguely, and now she tried to remember more as she put them to the exquisite faces in the distance.

“They’re the number two and three seeds, after Seb,” Asher was saying to Daphne. “Adriana and Rafael Mérida. If anyone is going to beat him, it’s one of them.”

She watched Seb warmly embrace them, then begin a conversation in animated Spanish. Lily knew he could speak Spanish, but she hadn’t realized he was fluent. Something unpleasantly like jealousy kindled in her guts and she turned to Tori and Liesl, half paying attention to their conversation. Eventually, as dinner started, Seb made his way back to her.

Lily picked at her food, back to feeling out of place, now on an entirely different level from how she had when she’d walked in. Cantrèa was a world within a world that she’d been shut out of her whole life and was just starting to feel at home in, but the tournament was making it clear just how far outside it she still was. She knew Windermere Cantrèa, but that was only a part of the picture.

As dessert arrived, Sebastian turned to her, looking guilty.

“What?”

“I may have forgotten something…important.”

She stared at him, unwilling to play easy.

“There’s…a dance.”

“Is this not a ball?”

Next to her, he fidgeted in his seat. Lily had never seen him fidget before.

“Sebastian?”

“Traditionally, the dance floor is opened after the previous year’s champion and their date have the first dance.”

Lily blinked at him. “Like at a wedding?”