Page 60 of Alchemy of Souls

“Claws,” I say. “If you have a theory, I need to hear it.”

She huffs. “Look, it’s ridiculous, all right? But when the air shimmered, we were—” She’s actively squirming now. “Holding hands.”

I can’t help it, I smile.

“Notfunny,” she says, and even in the moonlight I can see her blush.

“I beg to differ.”

She glares at me. “Think about it. When we held hands the first time, the beams stopped shaking. The second time we were able to make the potion work. I’m not saying it makes sense. It doesn’t. But it’s definitely a pattern.”

I pause. Maybe she’s onto something. “Okay, then we do it again. Holding hands this time.”

“Yeah, yes. That makes sense,” she says, stumbling over the words.

It’s possible I smirk as I offer her my hand. But as she places her fingers in mine and steps back on the platform, it’s me who’s thrown. Because when she starts singing, I feel it, first vibrating along my arm and then in my chest.

I don’t cast my wind spell to steady her this time, I just hold her tightly.

I feel her passion for her spell and the details she pours into her box. I feel her commitment and her longing, and my usual calm becomes decidedly uncalm. The feeling of her magic travels through my pulse like a heartbeat. And when I pull her back onto the tower as she finishes, it might be me who’s blushing.

We both search the air around us, waiting a beat. But nothing appears.

“Sorry,” she says, breaking our handhold and rubbing her forehead. “I really thought that might work.”

I clear my throat, and in what can only be the worst timing ever, my cell phone vibrates and I look at it.

“What?” she asks, following my eyeline to my boot.

“Nothing, just thinking,” I say.

Bzzz.

We make eye contact.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.

Shit.

“Why do you do that?” she says, her hand moving to her hip. “Why do you lie?”

I’ve never been asked that question. Everyone in my world lies, and I’ve always considered myself skilled at it in a way I could depend on.

But before I can think of how to answer she adds, “And don’t say you’re not. You’ve been glancing at your boot all night. What do you have in there?”

I sigh, and no one is more surprised than me when I decide to go with the truth. “A cell phone,” I say, and she steps back from me.

“You have…a cell phone?” she says carefully and precisely.

“It’s not the kind you’re thinking.”

Her look turns sharp. “Is it the kind that makescalls?”

“I don’t use it for that. I use it to text my friends. It’s got a closed-circuit spell on it that keeps it from being transmitted outside the wards,” I say, and for a brief second her annoyance is replaced with hopefulness.

“Would it work for me to text my family?” she asks.

I shake my head. “The spell won’t stretch that far.”