Page 92 of Alchemy of Souls

I pull open the door and Nora stands on the other side.

“Still in bed I see,” she says, getting a good look at me. “Haven’t even wiped the sleep from your eyes.” Then she peers around me to Eloise and raises an eyebrow.

“Can I help you with something?” I ask with a yawn.

“You can clean yourselves up is what,” she says. “Because your uncle’s here and he wants to talk to you both in the drawing room.”

I scent the shock Eloise experiences behind me. “Great,” I say flatly, because this can mean nothing good.

But when the door closes and I turn to face Eloise, I realize I don’t have a clue what to say. I’m completely stumped.

I gesture toward the bathroom. “You can use my shower. I’ll use the one in the hall.”

I let myself out, and by her lack of reply, I’m guessing she doesn’t know what to say, either. She probably hates me. I would if the situation were reversed.

I spend the next ten minutes focusing on the hot water in the shower, trying to regain the calm I’ll need to deal with my uncle. But by the time I get out and find Eloise standing in the middle of my room with damp waves going down her back, I cannot think of a single thing to say. She looks so vulnerable here, too good for this house filled with gilded poison.

She still has a slight scent of hurt, but now it’s more complex than that—it’s indecision.

I clear my throat. “My uncle wants to see us.”

“I heard,” she says, and that’s it.

I open my bedroom door for her and she steps out into the hall with an audible exhale.

I lead her down the main stairs and into the formal drawing room, which is as far as I get before my steps falter. My uncle is on one of the tufted silk couches near the fireplace having tea. With mymother.

“Hello, Grayson,” my mother says in a silky tone, her eyes flicking to Eloise. “Would you like to introduce me to your friend?”

“Eloise Belrose, this is my mother, Alexandria Stone,” I say, wanting to grab Eloise’s arm and pull her right the hell out of here.

“Join us,” my uncle says, gesturing at the couch across from them.

My mother pours two cups of tea and sets them on our side of the claw-footed coffee table. “There is milk and sugar, should you so desire.”

“Thank you,” Eloise says politely, adding both to hers and stirring with a small spoon. I, however, don’t touch my cup. I’m too busy watching my family, trying to get ahead of whatever they have planned, especially since my mother’s scent screams anticipation.

“Update me,” my uncle says, and I open my mouth, but he puts his hand up.

“Not you, Grayson. The girl,” he says dismissively. “You’ve been attempting to call the Key for nearly a week now, Miss Belrose, and I’d like to hear if my leniency has been deserved.”

Shit.

Eloise’s eyes dart from my mother to my uncle. “I…,” she says hesitantly.

“You can speak freely in front of me, child,” my mother says, her voice smooth.

Eloise swallows her tea. “We’ve made significant progress,” she says, and I try not to tense. “We’ve called the Key once—”

“At a party,” my uncle interjects.

“Yes,” she says. “But it disappeared too quickly to touch it and—”

“Can you really call that intention?” my mother asks like a sweet-tongued viper. “Or was it more of… an accident?”

“Neither,” I say, jumping in. “It was the logical progression of our efforts. Everyone knows the Key is unpredict—”

“As I said, Grayson,” my uncle cuts me off with a magical command that has my mouth snap shut by force. “The question wasnotfor you. Go on, Miss Belrose. I would like to know what exactly you were doing when the Key arrived.”