Page 46 of Alchemy of Souls

For a flash of a second, he looks taken aback. I’m positive he wants to say that’s ridiculous, and I agree. But it’s literally the only thing I can think of.

“Let’s try it,” he says. “We’ll both hold the brush.”

“I’m not tall enough,” I reply, and before I finish my sentence Grayson wraps his arm around my back, lifting my feet off the floor as my body presses into his.

He holds me against his chest with one arm and I’m fairly certain my breath stops altogether.

He offers me the brush and I wrap my fingers around his. Then together, we paint the point of the arch.

And wouldn’t you know it, but the thing starts glowing.

Grayson lowers me to the floor with a grin, and I reach for the handle. This time, it makes a clicking sound, turning underneath my palm.

I’m so relieved I could cry.

I yank it open and we bound into the hallway. The sconces are already dimmed in preparation for curfew and there’s not a student in sight.

My limp is pretty bad now, but there’s no time to rest. If we don’t make it back to our room, we risk another punishment. I push as hard as I can, but I’m slow. Still, Grayson doesn’t leave me; he just loops his arm around my waist to support my weight.

“I’m—” I protest.

“I know you’re capable, Claws. Hell, you braved the last twenty minutes injured with no complaints. But we have maybe two minutes left and we need to move faster than you can go on your own.”

Boots sound somewhere behind us, and I don’t dare turn to see who’s coming. I wrap my arm around Grayson’s neck, gripping hisshoulder. In one deft move he scoops me up into his arms, and we move. Fast.

He reaches our door in the exact moment the curfew bell sounds. As we barrel inside, I turn my head in time to see Akari at the end of the hall. Watching.

CHAPTER 26Grayson

Our suite door clicks shut. I lower my arm from under Eloise’s knees and her feet drop to the floor.

“Screw this no-magic thing right to hell,” I say.

“I absolutely hate it,” Eloise replies, taking her arm from my shoulders. I’d have helped her to her room, but I know she wouldn’t let me.

Instead, I push open my bedroom door and pull open the top drawer in my dresser, digging through to find my zip-up leather case. Then I cross our suite and tap my knuckle against her door.

“Who is it?” she says irreverently through the wood.

“Your humble servant,” I reply.

She cracks open the door. “‘Humble’ is a lie.”

“Correction, your confident servant with fantastic hair?” I try again, and even though she tries not to smile, the corners of her mouth tilt ever so slightly. “Also, I come with a peace offering.” I hold up the case.

“What am I looking at?” she asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Medical supplies,” I reply, and she backs away from the door to let me in.

Her room is a mirror image of mine with a carved canopy bedand an earth-toned rug. Her boots are off and she hops around on one foot, pulling herself up onto her comforter with a wince.

I unzip the case and take out an Ace bandage. “Let’s get a look at that foot,” I say, but she plucks it out of my hand.

She glances pointedly at my palms. “While I’m wrapping my ankle, put some Green Goddess salve on those hands.”

I smirk. “Who’s bossy now?”

She huffs. “Your palms are bleeding. What sort of a person would I be if I let you wrap my bandage? I get that you’re trying to be nice, and I appreciate it, but no.”