Asmodeus, freed of Colette’s wrathful claws, breathed a sigh of relief, made easier as he loosened his cravat. The king was pleased, the food was wonderful, and Asmodeus had a toasty feeling hazing the thoughts behind his eyes. In all, it really was a successful evening out.
A chuckle drew his attention, albeit slowly (it took a moment for his eyes to catch up to his gaze), and Asmodeus looked down to see petticoats and bustle rocking back and forth as Alexandra tried unsuccessful to extricate herself from the floor. With a short laugh, Asmodeus reached down and took her hands, helping her unsteadily to her feet and very nearly bringing himself crashing down on top of her again. Giggling, Alexandra fell into his arms as Colette marched up to the pair.
“Well, Mister Brazier, I still blame you for this catastrophe.”
Before she could protest, Asmodeus threw an arm around Colette’s shoulders, reeling her in close. His breath was perfumed with the sickly sweet of too much wine. “Cast-a-trophy? Nonsense! It was a splendid fete. I’m happy, the king’s happy, you’re… never really happy, I suppose. But! In my expert opinion, this was a truly magnificent event.” He punctuated this statement with an expansive wave of his gold-tipped cane, allowing Colette to step back a few paces to recover some amount of personal space and clean air.
“Oh yes, all a bunch of laughs and good times, wasn’t it? And what will we do about the show? His Majesty seems to expect some kind of slapstick comedy hour in addition to our ordinary routine, which can’t be ordinary anyway because you contracted us to nobility, and I swore I wouldn’t go that route again, and what if he gives us a bad review, and how are we going to devise any new spectacles in such a short time, and what are we going to do about Marie, and…”
Colette paused to take a long draught of wine from a glass astutely handed to her by Asmodeus, whose sangfroid manner belied his desperate internal battle with balance. To put her at ease, Asmodeus came at her with his default response to Colette’s issues. “Relax, ringmaster of mine,” he slurred, playfully shoving her shoulder. “You worry entirely too much about what could be. Enjoy the moment while we have it.”
Alexandra, gazing dreamily up at the magician, tore her gaze away long enough to nod her head in concurrence. “For once I agree with Asmodeus. It’s a lovely evening. We’ll deal with each challenge as it comes.”
Colette crossed her arms, tapped her foot a little as she chewed thoughtfully on her lip, but authority won out. “Well, it would appear one of us has to be the adult in charge. I still have a lot of work to do tonight: planning the show, helping to check equipment, figuring our finances. I’ll be heading back to my ship. I’ve told Marie she’s to stay behind and help clean up this wreckage of a dinner. I hope you all have a splendid night.”
Asmodeus snorted in defiance. “Nonsense! There’re servants enough to handle that - it’s how they earn their pay - and the party seems to be over anyway. Why, the young prince is already halfway to the door with our Marie.” Giving Alexandra a squeeze, still nestled under his arm, Asmodeus added, “Allow me to escort you and the other ladies to their ships. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”
Colette looked over the inebriated couple standing in front of her, and cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “The gentlemanly thing, is it? Sure there’s not some ulterior motive there?”
Pride wounded by this perfectly honest accusation, Asmodeus disentangled himself from Alexandra and took on a defensive posture. “I have only noble intentions. What if some ruffians accosted you? You would be in need of a man of action!” He took a swing of his cane at imagined foes, stumbled, and managed to keep off of the floor by means of a propitiously placed chair back to brace himself against. Colette grinned at the act she knew so well. “Are you certain it’s not the other way around; you needing the escorting? You’re barely sober enough to walk, you old lush.”
“I assure you, madam; I’m in top form, so let’s gather Marguerite and be off. For that matter, where is she?”
In the aftermath of confusion, nobody had seen her leave. Alexandra peered cursorily around the room. Colette coolly answered her unspoken question. “She headed out ahead of us on the arm of that charming engineer.”
Alexandra grinned up at Asmodeus. “Then I suggest we follow her example.” With that, she took Asmodeus’ arm, which resulted in the two of them tottering sideways, propping one another up as they shambled, giggling, towards the exit.
What followed was an uneventful walk down through the castle courtyard then out along the winding wooded path, illuminated by the soft glow of electric lanterns staggered along the edges. Max explained that these were specially commissioned by his father from a Frenchman a couple of decades back; he grew up thinking the whole world was lit by electricity.
Colette remained in the vanguard, striding between the boles with a determination to just get back to the safety of her own cabin. Marie, helped along by the prince, followed behind, excitedly relating to Max the splendors of a life unfettered. Covering the rear, and playfully pinching at it, were Asmodeus and Alexandra, slipping apart one moment only to come crashing together the next, never losing hold of one another.
“Well,” bubbled Asmodeus, twirling his cane, “I enjoyed those little puff pastries in the second course. They were so small; I could eat a tray full.”
Alexandra chuckled into Asmodeus’ shoulder. “Speaking of too many pastries, did you see that countess toward the end of the table? Someone did some fine tailoring to keep all of that woman confined.”
Asmodeus playfully poked Alexandra, full knowing that corsets are a woman’s equivalent to plate armour. “Well, not all women can have a figure as stunning as yours.”
Alexandra snuggled closer to him. “Oh my, was that a compliment?”
Asmodeus feigned surprise. “Was it? Couldn’t have been; obviously a miscommunication.”
“For that matter, what was that on the floor in the dining hall?” To Asmodeus’ startled look, she continued, “You know, I wasn’t quite as drunk as you think I was. Not quite that drunk.”
Asmodeus fell silent as they walked, eyes distant, rallying his thoughts against this new revelation. Yes, he had tried to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted nothing more than to fall into her and never surface; drown in ecstasy.
Pinpoints of light began flickering beyond the trees; the circus encampment, under Tom Sry’s direction, was established and preparing for the night, be it sleep or shenanigans. Snatches of fiddle and squeezebox melodies drifted on the air like smoke from a campfire, peppered with the laugher of carefree souls. It seemed to tip the scales of Asmodeus' conscience already heavily laden with wine.
Alexandra broke in on Asmodeus’ musings. “It occurs to me that I have a dilemma. I would ordinarily require Marie’s assistance getting into and out of this outfit, but she seems delightedly indisposed at present. It’s dreadfully difficult, you know, undoing all the hooks and laces. Perhaps there are some deft hands somewhere to spring this cage. Know anyone who’s good with a corset?”
“I might know a fellow.”
“Maybe you could stay for tea?”
Asmodeus gave her a wink and they both quickened their tipsy pace as they reached the edge of the circus clearing, making a beeline for Alexandra’s ship and abandoning the other members of the little parade to their own devices. Marie, seeing them running, dragged the prince into a loping gait after them, shouting something about wanting a cup as well. Colette let escape a weary sigh and peeled off towards her own dark cabin.
A worn wooden door, painted to resemble a crescent moon cradled in the edge of a jovial sun, closed fast in Marie’s face. Undaunted, she tried the knob, only to find it inconveniently locked. She knocked… loudly… and repeatedly, but to no answer. “I suppose I’m sleeping with the acrobats tonight,” she remarked to Max. To the stolid door she yelled, “Can I at least have my pajamas?” The door popped open the smallest of cracks and a bundle of clothing came vaulting into Marie’s startled grasp before shutting just as fast. “Thank you,” she shouted, answered only by a soft thump and giggling.
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