Page 122 of The Alchemists

“Yes?” Seb swallowed.

“What if they don’t have a date,” she said flatly.

“I don’t know.”

She stared at the remains of her dessert, trying not to implode with rage and anxiety.

“I can’t go up there and let all these people stare at me,” she said quietly enough that only he could hear. “I can’t just perform for them.”

“But you are a performer. Let it be a performance.”

“I don’t want to perform myself,” she hissed.

He sighed, then leaned back in his chair. “It’s fine. Don’t worry, I’ll ask Tori.”

At the mention of her name, Tori looked up, pausing with her fork halfway to her mouth, her eyes cutting sideways. “Leave me out of it.”

“I’ll do it,” Lily said, harnessing the sudden bright surge of defiance that warmed her ribs as she caught sight, in quick succession, of her grandfather rising to stand and then the Mérida twins laughing with luminous insularity.

“You will?” He looked mildly shocked, which made Lily’s desire to give everyone in the room the finger that much more potent.

“You’re right. It’s a performance.”

As if on cue, the music swelled, and her grandfather looked over at them, his eyes searching out Sebastian, who nodded.

“You can change your mind,” he said as he offered her his hand.

“Too late now,” she said, swigging champagne and letting him lead her onto the dance floor.

SEB

Lily was tense in his arms. He wouldn’t have known it if he hadn’t danced with her a hundred times, if he hadn’t been used to the muscular, liquid grace of her when nobody was watching. Under his fingers, the wings of her shoulder blades were stiff ridges instead of being softly active. He turned her, a little goofily, to make her smile and so that the entire room could see the sublime architecture of her back. He’d never seen a back like Lily’s—a nearly perfect topographical map of muscles and tendons.

He loved her back. The first time he’d seen it free of clothing, it had nearly taken his breath away. Lily in this dress kept taking his breath away. She looked so adult, so confident in it, and it was all he could do to keep himself together, knowing that if he failed tonight, it was the last time she’d look like her future self.

Asher knew the plan. Tori knew the plan. Chant knew the plan. Even Daphne knew a little. Seb had subtly nudged Lily toward subtly nudging Asher to ask her to come tonight, so that Lily could be distracted by someone she knew while Seb made a deal with the devil.

“So, the Mérida twins,” Lily said, bringing his attention back to the present.

“What about them?”

“You seem friendly.”

“We’re friends.” He looked into her eyes then and saw a twinge of green. “Are you jealous?”

“I don’t know what I am.” Lily was so, so good at controlling herself, projecting one thing while keeping the rest of her locked in a vault—it was one of their biggest similarities—but now her veneer was cracking. “I don’t know anything.”

“Lily,” he said, because her name was everything. He guided her in close, closer, so they were slotted perfectly together, abandoning the waltz step, and pressed his cheek to hers so that his lips were near her ear.

“Sebastian.” She stiffened.

Low, low enough that only she could hear, he whispered the words in her ear, words she’d first heard accompanied by Asher’s guitar and the slosh of lazy waves. He’d thought about it a lot—switching places, trading skin, trading fate—and he knew he’d do it in a heartbeat. He’d run up any hill, any skyscraper, for Lily Perkins.

Finally, she softened, and he let the room become a golden blur until the song ended and they swayed to a stop. Other couples joined them on the floor for the next dance, and they danced that one too, as custom dictated, before he led her back to their table, depositing her next to Daphne.

It was time.

He caught Asher’s eye. Asher turned to Daphne; Daphne turned to Lily.