Page 45 of Alchemy of Souls

His arms wrap around the beam, but they don’t find purchase, and then he’s falling again.

I reach for my magic to help him, but I’m bone dry and the effort yanks at my insides like an overstretched rubber band.

Only Grayson doesn’t smash into the ground. He stops midair, like someone pressed pause on his descent. Which is when I realize the ends of the thin rope are in each of his hands, the rest of it craftily looped over the beam. It’s too flimsy to hold his weight for more than a moment without splitting, but it does its job in slowing him down, cutting his fall in half.

He smacks onto the floor in a crouch and I jog up to him, ignoring the sharp pain in my ankle.

“That was…,” I start, not knowing if I want to yell at him for scaring me or hug him for being so tactical.

“Impressive?” he offers.

I catch sight of his hands, which have angry rope burns across them.

Not that he seems to notice. He yanks open the second pouch and pulls out a small glass vial. “Bingo,” he says with a fast glance toward the clock.

“Eleven minutes,” I breathe, and we both take off, jogging for the door, the pain in my ankle shooting up my leg.

Which is when I realize we weren’t told anything beyond the fact that the potion opens the door.

“Judging by how small this vial is, we’ve got one shot at this,” Grayson says as he pops the cork off.

I hold out the paintbrush. “Okay, well, maybe we put the potion on the paintbrush and try spreading it near the lock?”

“Fair enough,” he says, and carefully tips the small vial.

The liquid comes out dark and murky, but when it mixes with the bristles it starts glowing.

I make a fast swipe over the lock, and it also starts glowing. But when I grab the handle, the door doesn’t budge.

“Maybe try brushing it over the entire doorframe,” Grayson says. “Akari’s locking spell seemed to be focused there. I saw the magic soak into the wood.”

Without hesitation, I start from the bottom, running the brush up both sides and handing it to Grayson to do the high arch. The wood glows along the brush’s path as he completes our lines.

He reaches for the handle this time, but once again, nothing happens.

Grayson curses and I stare at the door like it just betrayed me. That is, until I notice something.

“Look,” I say, pointing. “The very tip of the arch isn’t glowing. You must have missed it.”

His brow furrows like he disagrees, but he reaches up and paints it again.

Nothing happens.

He pours more potion onto the brush and paints it a third time.

Still, it doesn’t glow.

“The hell?” he says, and now I’m rubbing my hands over my face.

“What are we missing?” I say to both of us.

“I don’t know, but we’ve only got seven minutes,” he says.

“We can figure this out,” I say. “We just need to think.” I take a deep breath, pushing the heel of my hand into my forehead. We need to think. We need to—I stop.Wemight be the most important word of that sentence.

“What?” he asks. “What’s that thought you just had?”

“The beam. It stopped shaking when we, um, held hands?” I say, feeling more awkward with every word. “Maybe this is similar?”