Page 87 of Alchemy of Souls

“The first line is obvious,” I say. “We know the Key is sentient. But the second line names a hidden arch.”

“Probably the Archive Room,” he says. “But just about every door in the University is arched. It could literally be anywhere.”

“It only appears when it so desires,” I read.

“Again, not a surprise,” he says. “However,through connection and the heart’s true fires, is… interesting.”

I scratch my eyebrow, because of all the lines of the poem, that’sthe one that makes me squirm. “The connection part is literal since we have to be touching. But it’s an old poem. And a heart’s fire could mean any number of things.”

“Passion?” he suggests, and it takes all my willpower to not think about that word too hard.

“Passion about magic or passion about—” And that’s where my brain drops off a cliff. I cannot think of a single other thing to be passionate about besides that which shall not be named.

Grayson stifles a smile and I glare at him.

“The next part is clearly about you—Heart of Courage,” he says, and I’m oddly taken aback.

“Maybe,” I say, staring at the paper.

“Well, it’s not about me, that’s for damn sure,” he says easily. “Noble spirit? Heart being their center of power? Truth? That’s you to aT.”

“I assaulted you just this morning, Grayson,” I say, trying not to think about the way he just described me. “I’m not as noble as you think.”

He leans back on the couch pillows, his thigh way too close to mine. “Really? Now this I’m interested in. What bad things has Eloise Belrose done in her life?”

I huff at him. “That’s so not the point.”

“I beg to differ,” he says.

“Fine, you know what? I stole once,” I say.

He has the nerve to laugh. “Youstoleonce? What did you steal?”

“Arthritis salve,” I say.

The smile drops right off his face. “When?”

“Five years ago,” I say, chewing on my lip. “It was before I went to the Academy, and Mom got called into work while we were out. She didn’t have time to drop me at home, so she took me with her.I used the bathroom in the house she was cleaning, and it was right there. Just sitting on a shelf, piled under makeup like it was forgotten. My gran, she struggles with arthritis. Some days she has such a hard time doing the stairs that she sleeps on the couch instead of in her bed. But we can only afford the salve sparingly.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Grayson says, and I’m surprised by the glimmer of anger in his voice. “What’s wrong is that your family works thankless jobs and they can’t even afford necessary medication.”

“Yeah, well, Gran didn’t agree. She laid into me. Said we don’t steal. That we’re not—”

“Mages?” he guesses, and I nod.

I don’t usually repeat Gran’s opinions to anyone other than Maggie. “She said that only Mages and Lawless take what’s not theirs. That the only thing we have in this world is our integrity,” I say.

“During winter break,” he says, “if we live that long, you and I will get your gran her medicine. Whatever she needs so she doesn’t have to go without.”

“Grayson, you—” I say, but he’s not having it.

“I do have to,” he interrupts. “There are so many times where I can’t do anything, where I feel bound or tied by my title and my uncle’s watchful eye. But not this time. I can get your gran her salve. And I very much plan on doing it.”

I can’t help it, tears spring to my eyes and I look away. I don’t say thank you, because the words don’t match my feelings, they’re not big enough. “You’re not who you pretend to be, you know. You’re not just the popular guy everyone follows around and fawns over. You’re much better than that. You’re kind.”

He stares at me for a long time, like now it’s him who’s overcome and doesn’t know how to respond.

CHAPTER 43Grayson