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He had to admit the work itself was interesting, fascinating even, and Bluebeard almost had him convinced they were actually making gold. The calcination went smoothly as soon as the miserable bully stopped breathing down his neck, and the sublimation was a snap. Looking at it practically, Zayan realized he needed to get used to the abuse, or at least learn how to avoid it. The Mage showed no signs of ever changing. For now, though, he needed a breather away from his mercurial mentor. So here he stood, looking for comfort in Tom’s lab, needing a shoulder from the man he was supposed to be seducing. How did his life get so screwed up, so quickly?

Evading further discussion of his woes, he asked, “How’s your work going?”

“It goes,” Tom said, then he waggled his eyebrows. “No, it’s better than that. Mage Bluebeard dropped in earlier and asked for one of my current samples. Because, as he said, ‘it’s something his bride would enjoy.’”

Tom looked absolutely delighted to share this juicy nugget of gossip, and Zayan was more than willing to play along.

“I suppose we’ll hear the fallout tonight, if they don’t have some afternoon delight in her tower first.”

“Or probably both, judging from the length and width of his reaction.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

Tom giggled and said, “Yep. My peak sample had the desired effect, and his thin trousers hid nothing. We’re talking massive VPL.”

“VPL?”

“Visible penis line. I couldn’t tell if he’s uncut, but damn, it’s at least…”

A voice at the door interrupted him before he could give the detailed stats. “Hey boys. What are you talking about?” Beatrice had somehow sneaked up on them while they were giggling about their patron’s cock. She was polite enough not to mention it, but she must have heard at least part of their conversation.

“Oh, nothing,” Tom said. “We were talking about the strength of my recent samples.”

They both stifled snickers as Tom continued, “What gives us the pleasure of a visit, gracious Lady of the Château? May I help you with something?”

“Yes, please. You may have heard that I’m planning a Midsummer Ball, and I’d like to do something special for the Mage. Something personal.”

Tom looked confused but intrigued. “I’m happy to help, if it’s something I can do.”

She affected a secretive stage whisper and said, “You didn’t hear it from me, but the Mage spends an inordinate amount of time grooming his beard.”

“Well, it is luxurious and masculine,” Tom agreed.

“I certainly agree,” she said, and they lost her for a moment in a dreamy reverie. She blinked it away with a small shake of her head and continued, “Yes, well, I was hoping you could brew up a beard oil, lightly scented with something masculine. I consulted Hoyle, and he mentioned my husband has always had an affinity for a wild thyme that grows in the local forest. Perhaps he could help you sort it out?”

Tom said instantly, “Challenge accepted.”

“Splendid. I’ll arrange for a bottle to add some additional sparkle.” She took Tom’s hand in both of hers and said, “Thank you, dear, for your help with this, and mum’s the word.”

Zayan raised his eyebrows as she breezed out of Tom’s lab, and they both managed, barely, to keep from breaking into laughter until she was halfway across the courtyard.

He said, “I suppose everyone needs at least one personal vanity, and his beard is certainly unique.”

Tom was beside himself with laughter, and asked, “Do you think it goes all the way down? What would that even look like? Blue pubes for his blue balls? Ha, get it? Blue balls. Not that he’s had any problem with that lately, given the pounding on my ceiling. I suppose we could ask.”

Zayan played along and asked, “But who? Not the Mage. Never. Beatrice would probably at least nod if we framed the question discreetly. Maybe Thierry? Do you think he’s one to dish the dirt?”

“Oh man. I can’t even imagine it. But maybe I can. I’d bet money he dresses Bluebeard every morning.”

“You’re probably right, and I think our Thierry has a little crush on his master.”

Tom said, “Or a big one. I’ve seen it.”

Zayan teased, “Now I’m jealous. You’ve seen Thierry’s dick too?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course not. He’s always neatly packaged and fit for the public. I bet he sleeps in that waistcoat. I meant the crush. Thierry does have a crush on the man with the blue beard. It was easy to see when they danced. Watch and you’ll see. I catch him all the time now, with the little glances. Bluebeard never sees them, though.”

When Tom finally stopped his monologue, Zayan said, “I wonder if they’ve ever…but no. That’s not an image I want in my head.”