Page 86 of Alchemy of Souls

Akari’s uncleis the cobbler?

“I visited last month,” Akari says flatly with no emotion. Meanwhile, my heart tries to beat out of my chest.

The Chancellor looks at me with a satisfied smile, and now I’m furious with myself for bursting with emotions he can read, and for not being able to stop.

“It’s so nice to have you in our home, Akari,” Grayson says quickly. “We were just about to head up to my room, but I can ask Chef to make you something if you’re hungry?”

“Speaking of your room,” the Chancellor says. “The answer is yes—you can have that overnight pass.”

And now it’s a hard call between wanting to disappear and punch the man in the face. Even Grayson’s calm falters and his jaw tics.

“Also, Akari isn’t staying,” the Chancellor continues. “She’s just doing a security sweep on my request, given the recent raid at the American Academy.”

“No one can get into our house with all the security spells,” Grayson says.

“They did when your brother was murdered,” Akari says, and Grayson’s grip on the tray tightens.

The Chancellor smiles. “You kids run along now. I wouldn’t want to keep you from parties and… shopping.”

I hate this man. I really do.

I follow Grayson up to his bedroom, which is bigger than the entire first floor of my house with a giant bed, a fireplace, and a huge TV. “Now I get why people call you prince.”

He smiles, placing the snacks and coffees on the table in front of the couch. “No one calls me that but Maggie.”

But the mention of Maggie brings back all my heightened emotions.

“I screwed up with your uncle,” I admit. “I couldn’t get ahold of my emotions. And I’m worried I just betrayed the cobbler.”

“Yes, your emotions were all over the place. But they always are when you’re near my uncle. And honestly, so are most people’s. It’s not as bad as you think. Besides, didn’t you hear the part where the cobbler is Akari’s uncle?”

“Which makes everything worse,” I say. “Akari would slice me from neck to navel if I endangered one of her relatives. I’m fairly certain that woman chews on knives and sleeps on nails.”

Grayson’s lips quirk ever so slightly.

“Literally nothing about this is amusing,” I scold him.

“I wouldn’t think so… but somehow you manage it,” he says.

I rub my hands down my face. “Grayson, you know your uncle. What’s he going to do?”

He considers it. “I wish I could tell you. He might do absolutely nothing. He might suspect the cobbler threw us out on our butts. He might interrogate him. I have no idea.”

My heart clenches. “I seriously hate that man,” I say.

Grayson freezes and I immediately regret my words, because I just admitted that I hate the Chancellorto his nephew.

“I don’t—what I mean is,” I begin, but he smiles.

“Hate him all you want,” he says, and then more quietly he adds, “I certainly do.”

Suddenly my heart beats double time. I was surprised when Grayson called him a prick, but hate is a whole other category. Did Grayson Stone just tell me one of his secrets?

“Anyway,” he says before I can get my bearings, “you probably want to transcribe that poem before you forget any of it.”

I sit down on his couch, taking the notebook and pen he gives me. Meanwhile Grayson spreads out ten tons of food, enough to feed my whole family including my Tasmanian devil of a little sister.

Once I have the poem on paper, he sits next to me and we read it together.