Page 32 of Alchemy of Souls

Her eyes widen momentarily and she places her hand comfortingly over mine. “Ye are wound tighter than spandex, Eloise. I don’t mean anything ominous.”

My look turns suspicious. “What did you do?”

“Me? I’m an angel, as ye well know. In fact, I went to your houselike the amazing friend I amto check on you before my flight. Only your family seemed surprised that I didn’t have a Guardian to escort me?” she says, and I wince. “Of course, I didn’t tell them how the Chancellor dragged you out of the theater. I tried to play it down, but you know your gran—she could get herself bothered over a sunny day in June.”

Oh no. Gran. I press my hand to my forehead. I need to make sure they don’t start asking the wrong questions of the wrong people. “Do you think there are phones here, Mags? Like in the town, maybe?”

“Not ones anyone will admit to, or so Ma says. And not ones you and I are likely to ever see. But yourroommateon the other hand…,” she says with a raised eyebrow.

“What?” I say, suddenly self-conscious.

“You asking what.” She gestures toward Grayson and his friends. “Why in the name of all that’s holy did Grayson Stone protect you from Naomi?”

I pull her toward the table near the windows. “Maybe he’s afraid I’ll stab him in his sleep?”

“But how did it even happen? Him being yer roommate?” she asks. “I’d think he’d have first pick, given his family.”

I can barely meet her eyes as I pull out a chair. “Believe me, I was just as surprised as you are,” I say, because I don’t want to lie to her.

Maggie slides into the seat next to mine. She assesses me for an uncomfortable amount of time, but instead of commiserating, she starts to laugh.

“This isn’t funny,” I say, but it’s hard to sound annoyed while she’s laughing so cheerfully.

“You’re blushing the shade of roses.”

“I am not,” I say emphatically.

“Has it been a grand show, then?” She nudges me with her elbow. “Maybe a wee flash of a six-pack as he walks to the shower?” Maggie hates Naomi and Ivy, but she’s never had a problem with Grayson like I did.

“Don’t start,” I say, grabbing a warm, buttery biscuit off the center of the table.

But it’s too late because she’s already snort-laughing. “Never a dull moment with ye, Eloise. And speaking of which, when are you going to tell me what happened with your exam spell? I wore my boots out worrying over it.”

My embarrassment instantly vanishes, because she’s asking the one thing I can’t answer. And I hate the idea of lying to her.

“Can we—” I start, spearing a bite of eggs. But I’m saved from answering because Adrien appears on the other side of the table.

Adrien smiles and shifts his gaze to Maggie. “Judging by the laughing and blushing coming from this side of the room, I take it Margaery’s to blame?”

Hang on, Adrien knows Maggie?

Adrien pours me a glass of water as he sits down. “You might need this. Your friend here has a way of making people choke at tables. Some might call it a talent.”

“First, don’t call me Margaery; I’m not forty, for feck’s sake. Second, you know very well that mouse illusion was a joke meant for your sister,” Maggie says in a huff. “I never meant for your mum to spray her drink out her nostrils. And that’s the truth of it.”

I look back and forth between them. “Wait, how do you guys know each other again?”

“She had a crush on my older sister a long time ago,” Adrien says, and my gaze whips to Maggie.

The agitated look on Maggie’s face confirms my suspicion. Maggie told me on repeat about the half-French, half-Indian girl who stole her heart a month before she moved to America—a long-haired brunette with sultry eyes.

“Sofia Sharma isyour sister?” I ask, now fully invested in this conversation.

Adrien grins and Maggie groans.

“Half sister,” Adrien says. “Who I see you told Eloise about, girl-who-shall-not-be-called-Margaery.”

“Just call me Maggie!” she blusters, and it’s fascinating to see her rattled. This never happens.