Page 69 of Alchemy of Souls

“Don’t lecture me, Sage. I’m doing everything in my power to change that,” I reply. “But I’m not handing Eloise over like some hostage. It’s not right.”

Anger flares in her eyes. “So, you’d put her before us? Before all the children and old women who need your help? Some girl you didn’t even know until a few days ago? You know what… don’t answer that. Mark my words, this is happening, Grayson. Whether you want it to or not.”

“Like hell it is,” I say as she walks toward my open window and climbs out of it like a goddamn ninja, not bothering to say goodbye.

CHAPTER 35Eloise

I stare out the window at the dark sky. The town glows with amber- colored lights and the University in the distance looks like something out of a fairy tale. Without realizing it, I start humming—a happy melody my gran sometimes sings. But with the thought of her comes heartache.

I look down at the poetry book I was about to start. I seem to have opened it without realizing. For a bright second, I get strangely hopeful, like maybe my magic is helping me. But the poem in my lap is entitled “The Cobbler” and it’s about a boy sitting on the floor playing with leather scraps while his dad made shoes. I can’t see how that possibly relates to the Key.

I sigh at the book. “I need more than this,” I say out loud. “I need you to give me something concrete.”

Which is the exact moment something drops, and I jump. But it’s just a book Grayson had precariously stacked on the table that tumbled to the floor.

I scoop it up and flip to the beginning, and the dedication catches my attention:

For the cobblers who came before and for those who come after. And for the day we break this cycle and surpass not only our family lineages, but our own narrow minds.

Again, with the cobblers. I chew on the inside of my cheek, trying to make sense of it. But no matter how I analyze it, I don’t see the connection. What am I missing?

I’m reading both passages for the fourth time when Grayson strides in like someone lit a fire under him. His hair is wet and it’s dripping on his shirt. He starts to speak but I cut him off.

“Do you think there’s any possibility that Conri Brachan was part of a cobbler family?” I ask him.

“Unlikely,” he says. “Back then, Laboring families didn’t really become Mages. And historically only Mages have called the Key, at least from what I’ve read.”

Back then? I’d argue it’s the same now. “It’s just that I came across two books that mention cobblers. Once in a poem and once in a dedication,” I say, but he seems a little on edge or possibly distracted?

“Uh, maybe? I don’t know, but I think we should get ready to go before Maggie puts a hit on me,” he says.

I smile and put the book down, promising myself I’ll think more on it later. “I’m ready.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “The party’s off campus. No uniforms necessary.”

“I didn’t bring anything else,” I say, disappointed at my own oversight, but he’s already crossing the library and I have to hurry to catch up.

“I have you covered, Claws,” he says over his shoulder.

“I hate to break it to you, Grayson.” I follow him up the grand staircase. “But I don’t think we wear the same size.”

He gives me a cheeky smile and opens the door to a walk-in closet the likes of which I’ve never seen. First of all, it has an entire seating area with a chaise lounge and a coffee table. Imagine loungingin a closet. My bedroom isn’t this big.

There are a hundred shoes in little glass cases. Piles of sweaters. Hangers filled with shirts, dresses, and pants in every color. It takes me a moment to realize that none of them look finished. The blouses have no buttons, the hems are loose, and the shoes are missing closures.

“It’s a starter closet that my whole family shares—me, my uncle, my mom, and sometimes my cousin, Aurora,” Grayson explains, gesturing toward a section that looks like it belongs to a twenty-something. “All the designs are most of the way crafted, making it easy to complete them magically to fit the wearer.”

Stunned is an understatement. “What the actual shit, Grayson? This is basically a shop, an entire magical boutique in yourhouse.”

He laughs. “Did you just curse, Claws?”

“I’m flustered,” I say with a huff. “This is just… I don’t know what this is.”

He smiles. “Pick out whatever you want and I’ll be in my room; just yell when you need me.”

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Like, really, actually sure?”

“Consider it a peace offering,” he says. “Since you have to suffer through fake dating me.”