Page 49 of The Alchemists

Seb obeyed, both of them wincing at the flash.

“Maybe I should draw them?”

“Yeah, maybe. Just…draw fast. I can’t keep this up forever, especially when we get into the main stacks.”

“But really,” he said, pulling out his journal. “That’s some serious spontaneous casting. You have to be almost—” He’d been about to say, “almost as powerful as me,” but he was now very invested in Lily not thinking he was an asshole.

She glanced at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Seriously powerful.”

“It’s hereditary,” she said, a playful curve to her lips.

“Really?” He paused mid-sketch. He wished Tori were here—she could have done a better, faster job.

“More or less.”

“Can I ask something…potentially offensive?”

She laughed then, half-rolling her eyes. “I promise whatever you’re about to say isn’t half as bad as the worst I’ve heard.”

He considered that for a moment, hating everyone. “Your father was normal, right?” She nodded. “So…how are you strong enough to go to Windermere? I thought the whole reason mixing magical with mundane was so taboo was because it dilutes the magic in the bloodline.”

As she turned back to him, silhouetted in the light from his phone, she looked for a moment like the version of herself from his dreams.

Her voice was very quiet. “That is what they say, isn’t it?”

New levels of understanding cascaded into place, each realization a little worse than the last. He stood, slack-jawed.

“Fuck.”

“C’mon,” she said, already halfway into the next room. “Catch up.”

LILY

Someone was in her bedroom. No, she realized, blinking against foreign dawn, I’m not in my room. Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Lily lifted her head and looked over the back of the couch. Asher Vis, his curly hair smashed on one side, wearing striped pajama pants and an old T-shirt, blinked back.

All at once, the remains of the night came back to her. They’d spent two hours checking every window in the library, recording every symbol—almost all of them alchemical in nature—in Sebastian—no, Seb’s—leather-bound journal. When they’d finished, she’d been dead on her feet, slicked in sweat and shaking. He’d refused to let her bike home, and she’d been too exhausted to argue, so he’d dragged her to the ninth floor of Millay Tower and deposited her on his couch. One of his pillows supported her head, and his duvet covered her chin. It smelled like him, and the diamond-paned window cast long shadows across her lap. She glanced under the duvet. She wore a Junior Cantrèjeux Invitational T-shirt that she had only the vaguest recollection of changing into.

“Coffee?” Asher raised a mug in her direction, and she nodded, taking in the suite.

She’d never been in upperclassmen housing before, and she wasn’t sure if they all came so tastefully appointed or if that was a result of its inhabitants. One of the walls was occupied by a cutting-edge multimedia setup on an antique sideboard. By the door nearest her stood a mid-century bar cart, hosting spirits she’d never even heard of. Across from the TV sat another couch—nothing you’d find during Curb Week—and above it hung a triptych of prints in expensive frames. The built-in seat beneath the bay window was covered in throw pillows. A stack of art books held court on the coffee table. The entire place was a warren of ultra-rich coziness.

Lily fished her sweatshirt from the floor and pulled it on before padding over to join Asher at the kitchen island. She fidgeted, unsure of herself, unsure of everything, before hopping onto one of the tall chairs. Asher poured steaming water into a funnel. It looked more like something she’d find in Paracelsus than in a kitchen.

“I would have been quieter—I didn’t realize there was anyone here.” Asher shot her an apologetic look, tinged with mild curiosity.

“It’s okay, I’m an early riser.” Today she could have slept until noon, but she left that out.

“Me too. Seb and Tori sleep like corpses, though. What’re you doing on our couch, if you don’t mind me asking?”

She found she didn’t mind. Asher spoke to her as if she were any new acquaintance, not Leper Lily. Seb had turned out to be different from what she expected—why should she be so surprised to find the same of his friends?

“We were working late. Seb—astian didn’t think I should bike home.” She couldn’t quite bring herself to call him Seb in front of his oldest friend. If Asher found the explanation lacking, he didn’t show it.

“You live off campus?”

She nodded, and he made a thoughtful noise as he poured them each a mug.