Page 58 of Alchemy of Souls

He pauses at an arched staircase and I pause with him, glancing over my shoulder for Guardians. We barely make it up two stairs before he lifts his hand and signals for me to stop. But he doesn’t rush me out of the staircase or whisperrun. Instead, he squats down and starts to unlace my boot.

For a moment I can’t form any thought other than—Grayson Stone is unlacing my shoes?The sheer absurdity has me dumbstruck. Then he lifts my leg and glides my boot off. I stare down at his tumbling waves in the near dark. And despite the fact that I’m scared, another kind of rush kicks in, one that has more to do with his proximity than the fear of getting caught. But when he glances up with a smirk like he knows what I’m thinking, I want to push him down the stairs.

In a flash, he picks up my boots and is moving again. And I have to admit that without them, my footsteps are silent.

He pauses at the top of the stairs and peers down the shadowed hall, beelining to a narrow door carved to look like a sky full of stars.

Footsteps sound in the stairwell we just came out of. Heavy ones that I’m certain belong to more than one Guardian. Grayson waves his hand over the door handle, but whatever unlocking spell he’s using is complicated and seems to have multiple parts we don’t have time for.

Hushed voices spill into the hallway, and I think screw it—I’m going to make a wild shoeless escape to god knows where. Only I don’t get farther than turning my head before Grayson pulls me through the newly open door, closing it behind us.

We listen to the voices muffled through the wood, not moving an inch. As my eyes adjust, I realize we’re in some kind of lounge, one that was recently used, given the half-empty drinks littering the tables.

As the voices fade into the distance, my awareness of Grayson’s proximity flares.

“You scare easily,” he says.

“And you’re an adrenaline junkie,” I huff.

He muffles a laugh.

“Now, if you could please tell me where we are before my heart beats directly out of my chest that would be amazing.”

“The North Tower Lounge,” he says, and glances around the disheveled room.

He waves his hand in a series of spells that cause glasses to lift off tables and move themselves to the sink behind the bar. Crumpled napkins fly to the trash, pillows fluff themselves, and a broom sweeps the ashes in the fireplace until everything is neat.

I turn to face him, my mouth hanging like a guppy. “Um, what the hell was that?” I say, flustered.

He shrugs. “Just cleaning up.”

“How do you even know those spells?” I demand, feeling like air is in short supply. I’ve never seen anyone other than a Laborer do them.

“I asked our housekeepers to teach me,” he says with a shrug, like it’s no big deal instead of some colossal moment. In all the years my mother has been cleaning houses for Mages, never once havethey bothered to help. In fact, they often just drop things on the floor figuring it isn’t their problem. That their superior magic has better uses.

“It doesn’t sit right with me that people magically run themselves dry to clean my bathroom or whatever,” he adds.

My mom and Gran are exactly those people, the people who use every ounce of their magic to make Mages’ lives easier. Even when Gran’s arthritis is killing her or Mom is up all night because my little sister got sick.

Grayson’s eyebrows furrow. “Did I say something wrong? I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not you,” I say, putting my hand out, feeling a frustration so deep it hinges on hurt. Because if Grayson can do this, so can other Mages. In fact, he just did five or six spells without breaking a sweat, something that would have taken Mom an hour.

“What are we doing here, Grayson?” I ask, changing the subject.

He gestures across the room toward a door, and I immediately walk toward it. The door leads to a narrow wooden staircase, which I head up without looking back, my usual caution overshadowed by my emotions.

But when it opens onto the top of a round tower, my churning thoughts still. There’s a domed roof made entirely of glass, and the warm night air blows through the tower gazebo in a comforting breeze.

“This is incredible,” I say, stunned.

Then Grayson says something I never expected—something personal. “You know, I used to sneak around this place when I was a kid.”

I turn toward him with a healthy amount of shock.

He stares at the twinkling tree houses below and points into thedistance. “My family has a house at the northern edge of town. And while the house itself is nice enough, my family—” He stops. “Let’s just say I wasn’t at home a lot. And it was kind of a game to me and my brother, trying to sneak in here. We’d climb the walls or peer into the courtyards to watch the weapons training. We never made it this high, but I always wanted to.”

There is an openness about his face as he recalls the memory, and I’m a little taken aback because it’s the first time he’s initiated a conversation about something other than our impossible situation.