bit and he went on with, “Let’s show Cristofori the respect he’s due.”
As quickly as Niall’s spirits had soared over the way Blake defended him, they sank at the use of the name Cristofori instead of Niall. There wasn’t time to dwell on it, though. Blake was right about one thing—he had a rehearsal to run.
“From Reinhold’s line again, if you please,” he said in his most authoritative voice.
Somehow, they made it through all of the Act One chorus parts. Morton and his friends settled down and learned their blocking as Niall directed. They practiced the songs a time or two, and Niall was surprised at how swiftly they’d learned them. All the same, Niall was relieved when they finally left and it was just him, Blake, Ian, Paul, the man playing Hilda opposite Ian’s Reinhold, and Gregory, the man playing the king, left to run through the remaining scenes in the first act. And since the play wasn’t a full-length production, they were able to get through the scenes quickly.
The only problem with finishing the rehearsal in record time was that it would mean Niall and Blake would part ways sooner. Niall scrambled for a way to stop that from happening.
“I have some extra time, if you want to run lines,” he told Blake as subtly as he could as Paul and Gregory left the stage to fetch their things.
“You aren’t going to study?” Ian interrupted, as though the offer had been directed to him.
“Study for what?” Blake asked, moving toward the piano and sitting on the bench. He launched right into playing a light-hearted, popular tune.
“Don’t tell me you haven’t heard about the prize Professor Carroll and the Classics department is offering,” Ian said with a smug look.
“I think I did hear something about that.” Niall gathered up a stray script someone had left on the stage and drifted toward the piano, wanting nothing more than to listen to Blake play.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you hadn’t heard about it,” Ian went on. “Apparently, you have to apply to take the exam Professor Carroll is giving in order to win the prize. Only the top students are being allowed to sit it.”
“Applying to take an exam?” Niall shared an amused grin with Blake. His heart jumped into his throat when Blake returned the grin with a sparkle in his eyes. He’d missed that intimate sparkle throughout the rehearsal.
“The prize is outstanding,” Ian told them as they all gathered around the piano. “I’ve seen it. I got an exclusive, early look at it.”
“What is it?” Blake asked, switching from his light-hearted tune to a more ponderous one that subtly underscored Ian’s cocky attitude.
“It’s a medallion,” Ian said. An inexplicably mischievous grin spread across his face.
“Medallions are often prizes in academic competitions,” Niall said, frowning slightly.
“True.” Ian leaned in closer. “But there’s something Professor Carroll doesn’t know about this medallion.”
Blake switched tunes once again to play something filled with mystery and importance. “What doesn’t he know?”
“He had the medallion made by a local artisan using one of the artifacts he brought back from his expedition to Egypt,” Ian said, lowering his voice dramatically.
Blake played quieter to match. “Why is that special?” he asked.
Niall was having a hard time not laughing at the way Blake teased Ian without Ian seeming to know it. It wasn’t cruel teasing, which only made it more endearing.
“The center of the medallion contains a carved scarab beetle,” Ian all but whispered to them, eyes alight. “I’ve seen it, though, and it’s not the one Professor Carroll thought he handed over to the man to make into a medallion.”
“It isn’t?” Niall’s frown deepened. “Shouldn’t someone tell Professor Carroll?”
“No, of course not,” Ian scoffed. “The scarab in the prize medallion is invaluable. It’s inlaid with gold. It must be thousands of years old.”
“Then someone should definitely tell Professor Carroll,” Blake said, sitting back a bit and returning to the light-hearted song he’d begun the conversation with.
“I would think that a man who lectures on Egyptology and who has been to the pyramids would know the value of the artifact he was giving away as a prize in an academic competition,” Niall said.
“I found out that his assistant handed over the scarab to the medallion maker,” Ian said. “I doubt Carroll will ever clap eyes on the thing. Which is why I intend to win it.”
“You do?” Niall eyed the man skeptically. He had no idea about Ian’s academic prowess, but he seemed confident enough.
“I have top marks,” Ian