Nicholas wasn’t exactly used to large gatherings. Plus, this was a French gathering, so it was super classy. Nicholas had gone to get-togethers at his old schools, held in beat-up gyms where Nicholas would much rather have been fencing. Loud, obnoxious music would play, and everyone would look sweaty without having exercised at all. The boys would stand on one side of the room, and the girls on the other. “How do we ask the girls to dance?” one guy had whispered in Nicholas’s ear. Nicholas had stared blankly and asked, “Why would we want to do that?”
Tonight, the music playing was tinkly but somehow sweet, as if someone had put big wind chimes up in the sky among the white clusters of stars. People were dressed up and mingling as though it was simple, with the graceful ease of adults.
It was still awkward. Nicholas would still much rather have been fencing. There were a lot fewer girls than at Nicholas’s old schools, but there were still some, and a couple of them were dancing with a few boys. Some boys were also dancing with other boys, and one girl with another girl. None of the Kings Row boys were dancing with anyone.
“Dancing under the stars would be fun,” Bobby said wistfully, hopping from foot to foot.
There were strings of white light threaded through the lemon trees, mirroring the stars and making curves like tiny galaxies captured in a net of leaves. The lights in the lemon trees caught red and white sparks off the sequins on Bobby’s shirt as he hopped.
Dante cleared his throat. “Let’s.”
Surprise touched Bobby’s face. “Really, will you? Aw, what a pal. Are you sure you don’t mind?”
Dante didn’t answer in words, since that wasn’t Dante’s way. He led Bobby out onto the cleared space that was the dance floor and leaned back and forth like a tall tree bending slightly in a storm, while Bobby danced enthusiastically around him in a circle.
They left Nicholas and Seiji standing side by side in total silence.
“I dislike dancing,” Seiji offered eventually. “Sometimes I have to do it at my father’s parties.”
“Yeah, dancing sucks,” said Nicholas.
Faint satisfaction touched Seiji’s face, since they were in agreement. Seiji was a shade taller than Nicholas, which Nicholas kind of liked for some reason he couldn’t pin down. Nicholas tilted a grin up at him. It was far better to be silent and awkward with Seiji than to do anything else with anyone else.
Seiji had asked Nicholas to stick with him so Nicholas wouldn’t embarrass him any more than he’d already done. Nicholas was happy to do that. A few times people approached them and talked in French about fencing, and Seiji translated for Nicholas, which was helpful. The others seemed startled that Nicholas-of-the-dropped-épée was included in the conversation, but because Seiji was there, they were polite enough. This Seiji-the-social-butterfly stuff took some getting used to. Nicholas hoped it wasn’t too much of a nuisance for Seiji, having Nicholas around. Normally, he didn’t worry about bothering Seiji—he just went ahead and did it—but at Kings Row Seiji didn’t have all these glamorous European companions.
At Kings Row, there was no Jesse. The threat of Jesse Coste’s presence lurked behind the strings of light and the whispers of leaves, and what could have been a nice, awkward evening.
Just then, a silhouette appeared, moving soft-footed across the leaf-strewn ground, light slipping through the leaves to find his bright hair.
Nicholas went tense with dread, but it wasn’t Jesse. It was Aiden, wearing very fitted rich-person jeans and a dark crimson shirt with a scoop neck and long sleeves. Aiden, Nicholas reflected, fit in among French people. Nicholas unconsciously tugged on the blazer Dante had loaned him and tried to push a hand through his newly styled hair.
Nothing could go wrong for Aiden’s hair. It was bulletproof. Right now, it was loose and a bit ripply around his face, as though he’d gotten it wet and let it dry by itself, but that was probably on purpose. He pushed it back with a languid hand.
“Hello, freshmen. Why have you done your hair like Seiji does his hair, Nicholas?” Aiden inquired.
“To look cool, ’cause we’re in France,” Nicholas explained.
That was when Seiji turned to face Nicholas with his black eyes gone wide.
“Is that what I look like?” Seiji demanded.
“Nah, I look way better,” Nicholas replied.
A mischievous smile leaped onto Aiden’s face, reflecting the amusement Nicholas felt. Nicholas was expert enough in Seiji expressions to know by now that the tic at the side of Seiji’s mouth meant he was quietly appalled.
The French guy who’d beaten Nicholas, Bastien, approached their group.
Bastien glanced at Aiden, then at Nicholas, then back at Aiden, but Aiden was studying the trees as though he found them fascinating. Bastien opened his mouth but ultimately didn’t speak, only shrugged and slid back into the crowd. Nicholas wondered what his deal was. Other Camp Menton trainees glanced Nicholas’s way and snickered, no doubt imagining that Bastien had come over to taunt Nicholas for sucking. Maybe Bastien had. Everyone at Camp Menton seemed to find Nicholas’s ineptitude deeply humorous.
“I told that guy I’d go on a date with him if he won his match,” Aiden confessed.
Nicholas blinked. He guessed there was a bright side to losing the match after all. He didn’t want that prize.
“I… didn’t know Bastien’s match was against you,” said Aiden, eyes still on the trees.
“’Course not,” said Nicholas. “Why would you want to see me lose in front of everybody? You’re on my team.”
Aiden made a complicated little hook shape with his mouth. It was like Eugene was allergic to pineapples, and Aiden was allergic to being believed in.
Nicholas had no idea why Aiden got so many dates. He seemed like a lot to handle, honestly.
Yet at that moment, another admirer approached, blushing under his freckles. “I’m Colm,” he said in an Irish accent. “Aiden, isn’t it? You look amazing.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “Every moment’s radiant o’clock for me. Get used to it.”
“I’d like to,” said the boy. “Will you dance with me?”
Wow, everyone was obsessed with dancing. Nicholas sneaked a look over at Seiji to share their dancing-related distaste and saw the captain approaching out of the corner of his eye. Nicholas perked up.
“Look, there’s Harvard. With his friend Arune. Do you know him, Aiden? Arune’s super nice.”
Aiden’s attention slid abruptly away from the trees. Something shifted in his demeanor, like a light being flipped on a stage to indicate, Everyone, look over here! though his expression didn’t change. He stepped forward and slipped an arm around Colm’s waist. Colm jumped and then relaxed, turning his head so their faces were very close together.
“I’d love to dance,” Aiden murmured.
They moved onto the dance floor before Harvard reached them, Aiden turning rather pointedly away. Harvard wasn’t looking at the dance floor. He was smiling at the rest of them, so clearly, he was fine with whoever Aiden was dating. Nicholas grinned back, and Eugene joined the group.
Nicholas and Eugene hugged, Eugene thumping Nicholas’s back with almost his usual terrifying strength.
“Thanks for the card, Seiji, my guy,” Eugene told him. “Really liked it. Very you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Seiji, clearly pleased.
Eugene turned to the rest of his teammates. “Hey, guys, I have a huge problem. Melodie says she loves to waltz.”
Nicholas shook his head in commiseration. “Why does everyone like dancing?”
Eugene stared. “Dancing sounds awesome, bro! I’d love to waltz with her! But I don’t know how.”
That was a problem Nicholas couldn’t help him with. He wasn’t entirely sure what waltzing even looked like.
Then Seiji’s arm, set against Nicholas’s, went tense as sprung steel.
Through lemon trees and starlight walked Jesse Coste and Marcel Berré, the Leventis twins behind them. Jesse’s curling golden hair was swept back in a way that Nicholas thought of as a rich-boy style, but it suited him. Slightly dressed up with his hair done that way, Jesse looked indefinably more grown-up. He resembled their father even more than usual.
“Hello, Seiji,” he said.
The Leventis twins, Thomas and Aster, exchanged a look. Nicholas wasn’t sure which of the twins, with their identical brown mops of hair and mirror-bright blue eyes, was which. The only difference between them was that one twin usually frowned while the other usually wore a smile. The smiling one, surprisingly, was the one who led the way into the crowd and away from the Kings Row team.
Maybe they didn’t want to be near the Kings Row team, in case the other Camp Menton trainees would think they were losers, too.
“Hi, Jesse,” said Harvard. “There are other people here, you know.”
His voice was warm and not judgmental, but faint color stole into Jesse’s face. “Hello, everyone,” he said with a smile too sudden to be at all sincere. His gaze skipped over Nicholas.
Arune snorted with amusement. “Hey, Jesse. Hi, Marcel. Fun match we had against Exton the other day.”
“You’re still overextending when you lunge,” murmured Marcel.
Nicholas thought it sounded like constructive criticism—like Coach would give him. Or like Seiji would give him. He honestly didn’t think it was a mean comment. The Exton boys just knew what was best when it came to fencing and let everyone know they knew best.
Eugene eyed Jesse in the manner of a lion spotting a fresh antelope. “Hey, bro.”
Jesse stared, clearly finding it impossible to believe anyone would ever address him that way.
Eugene persisted. “Can you waltz?”
Jesse regarded Eugene with suspicion. “I can waltz.”
“Can you teach me how, bro, real quick?”
“Do you not know how?” Jesse seemed so deeply startled by this information that, for a moment, Nicholas thought he might switch into coaching mode and waltz with Eugene. Instead, Jesse said disapprovingly, “Your captain should be the one to fill the gaps in your expertise.”
Harvard looked taken aback, but willing. “Well… if you like, Eugene, I could…”
“Oh wow!” exclaimed Eugene, totally oblivious to Harvard offering to waltz with him under the lemon trees. “She’s coming! She’s beautiful! Everybody, act normal!”
“Not sure you’re playing to this group’s strengths,” muttered Arune. “Hey, Harvard, c’mon. Let me introduce you to some fun German fencers I know.”
As Harvard and Arune moved off, Melodie Suard drifted in from another building that provided accommodation for Camp Menton, this one a whitewashed farmhouse with a painted wheel in the window. She had her long hair down, which would get in her eyes if she fenced, Nicholas thought critically. Eugene sighed.
Melodie fluttered her eyelashes. “You look dashing tonight, Eugene.”
“You too!” said Eugene. An expression of extreme mortification crossed his face an instant later.
Melodie smiled at the compliment, then held out a hand, fingers circled with silver rings, and placed it on Eugene’s arm. “Would you care to dance?”
“Um,” said Eugene. “Great that you asked. Let me tell you, I can totally dance. But maybe later? I’m… not feeling well.”
Melodie’s face softened with concern. “Ah, of course. You should rest a while. Shall we go talk down by the brook?”
“I would love to go talk down by the brook,” said Eugene enthusiastically.
“On our last night, that’s when we have the proper party,” Melodie continued. “We shall waltz then.”
“Oh…,” Eugene said. “Great.…”
Melodie glided off to the brook, Eugene following close behind. Another pair of fencers stopped by Seiji, speaking to him in a language Nicholas didn’t even recognize but with an admiring intonation. Clearly, people had been watching Seiji train all day. Before Jesse came, Seiji had been careful about introducing Nicholas to people, but this time he seemed to forget Nicholas completely and turned his back on Jesse with alacrity.
That left Nicholas alone, in the cold spotlight of the Exton boys’ gaze.
“Were you expecting to be introduced as Seiji’s fencing partner all night?” Jesse asked. All the warmth and charm was gone from his voice.
“What’s it to you?” Nicholas asked.
Jesse’s eyes were frozen lakes. “Who are you, exactly?”
Nicholas stared at the contempt on the face of his father’s son.
Jesse continued, “I know the truth about you.”
Nicholas’s heart felt stuck in his throat. His voice had to scrape past it to come through. “You do?”
“Everything I care to know,” said Jesse. “You’re some scholarship boy from nowhere, who’s all over someone immeasurably more talented like a rash. What, you expect me to believe you wanna be pals because you enjoy Seiji’s sparkling personality? You want to be close to him because you want to steal some of his glory. Seiji doesn’t need users like you around him. He needs me.”
Marcel coughed. “I hear a social acquaintance calling, I think…,” he said. “I should see what they want. Since they’re an acquaintance. Who I know socially.”
Neither Jesse nor Nicholas acknowledged his departure. Nicholas was watching Jesse too closely for that, as though he were observing Jesse through the mesh of a face mask, waiting for Jesse to make a sudden move. Jesse, who had all Nicholas’s speed and everything Nicholas would never have. Jesse, who was dismissing Nicholas in the way Seiji had dismissed him once. Except Jesse, unlike Seiji, was always charming people. Jesse was being cutting to Nicholas on purpose.
Nicholas bristled. “You don’t know anything about me.”
Except perhaps that wasn’t true. How Seiji fenced was the first thing Nicholas had noticed about Seiji. He didn’t care about glory, but he cared about seeing how Seiji fenced, being part of a perfect whirlwind of precisely honed skill. He cared about having the diamond intensity of Seiji’s focus trained on Nicholas alone. Sometimes it was all he thought about.
Maybe that wasn’t a great way to think about your friend. Maybe Nicholas wasn’t a great friend. Standing here, facing Jesse, he felt once more as if it were his father telling him all the ways in which Nicholas couldn’t measure up. Being disappointed in him and embarrassed by him.
Ice-blue eyes narrowing, Jesse said quietly, “Give it up and leave Seiji alone. It’s no use. You’re never going to be good enough to get what you want.”
It was very clear to Nicholas that he should punch Jesse in the face. Nicholas could picture doing so with vivid clarity, could already feel the grind of his fist connecting with Jesse’s teeth, the hot blood spurting onto his knuckles. But Camp Menton had strict rules. If Nicholas got thrown out for punching people, he would be letting down his team. He would embarrass Seiji.
So Nicholas clenched his fists, turned around, and stormed out of the party.