Chapter 10

Eileen's POV

"I'm sorry," I managed between laughs. "I'm so sorry, I—"

"Stop apologizing," Silas said, and there was actual warmth in his voice now. He gestured to the servants. "Clear the formal settings. Bring regular plates and utensils."

He looked at me, and his expression had softened in a way I'd never seen before.

"Use whatever you're comfortable with," he said quietly. "You don't need to impress me."

The servants quickly replaced everything with simpler dishware. No more crystal glasses or silver forks that weighed a pound each.

I picked up the normal fork, and it felt like a blessing.

"Thank you," I said softly.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. The duck was delicious, even though I'd nearly destroyed it earlier.

I could feel the tension slowly draining away. My shoulders relaxed. My death grip on the fork loosened.

He's not angry. He's not disappointed. He's... okay with this.

I glanced up at him. He was eating calmly, like nothing had happened.

This is my chance. While he's in a good mood.

I set down my fork and took a breath.

"Since you're not... completely horrified by me right now," I started, "can I ask you something?"

Silas's eyes lifted to meet mine. "Yes?"

"I want to help you," I said. "With the curse. I know you probably think I'm crazy, or that I have some ulterior motive, but I—"

I reached across the table slowly, giving him time to pull away if he wanted.

He didn't.

My fingers touched his wrist, just barely. His skin was warm under my palm.

"May I?" I asked quietly. "It won't hurt. I just need to... see what we're dealing with."

For a long moment, he didn't move. Just looked at me with those intense gray-blue eyes.

Then, slowly, he nodded.

"Go ahead."

I closed my eyes and let my magic flow.

The green glow started at my fingertips, spreading up his arm like vines seeking water. I could feel his pulse under my palm—steady, strong.

There.

The curse was like a knot of darkness wrapped around his heart. Thick, pulsing, wrong in every way.

It wasn't just one curse. It was layers. Someone had been very, very thorough.

My breath hitched. This was worse than I'd thought.

How is he even still alive with this much dark magic in his system?

I pushed deeper, trying to map out the curse's structure. Every thread, every binding.

The darkness pushed back. Hard.

I gasped and pulled my hand away, my head spinning.

"Eileen?"

I blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Silas was leaning forward in his wheelchair, concern clear on his face.

"I'm okay," I managed. "It's just—the curse is really complex. It's not just one spell. It's multiple layers of binding magic, all woven together."

I pressed my hand to my forehead, where a headache was starting to bloom.

"Simple magic won't break it," I continued. "But my mother—she had notes about potions and recipes that could slow down the curse."

I looked up at him.

"I can make them. I can help you. I just need to—"

I stopped.

Silas was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read. Something between hope and disbelief.

"You really think you can break it?" he asked quietly.

"I know I can," I said firmly. "I just need time. And access to the right ingredients. And—"

I stood up abruptly.

"The basic draught," I said. "I can start that tonight. It won't break the curse, but it can slow it down. Buy us time while I get the other notebook."

I was already moving toward the door, my mind racing.

The moon phase. What phase is the moon in? The basic draught needs to be started during a waning moon, and if I miss the window, I'll have to wait another month—

"And every day counts," I added, looking back at Silas. "The sooner I start the draught, the sooner we can stabilize your condition."

"Eileen."

I paused at the door, looking back.

Silas was watching me with that same soft expression from earlier.

"Thank you," he said simply.

My heart did something complicated in my chest.

"I'll fix this," I promised. "I swear I will."

Then I was out the door and hurrying down the hallway, my mind already cataloging ingredients and preparation steps.

The greenhouse. I'll need to check what herbs we have in stock. And—

"Oh!"

Ivy stepped out from the side corridor, right into my path.

I tried to stop, but I was moving too fast. My foot caught on something—her leg, deliberately shifted into my way—and I pitched forward with a startled yelp.

Not again—

I saw the flash of satisfaction in Ivy's eyes as I fell.

Then strong hands caught me before I hit the ground.

I found myself pressed against a warm chest, breathing in the scent of pine and something woodsy. Not cedar and leather like Silas. Different.

I looked up.

Golden eyes stared down at me. Gavin.

"Careful there, Luna," he said, steadying me on my feet. His hands lingered on my arms for just a second before he stepped back. "You alright?"

"I—yes, I'm fine, I just—"

Movement in my peripheral vision made me turn my head.

Silas was at the end of the hallway.

He'd wheeled himself out of the dining room, and now he was just... sitting there. Watching us.

Even from this distance, I could see the way his expression had shuttered. The warmth from dinner was gone, replaced by that cold, distant look.

No. No, he thinks—

"I have to go," I said quickly, pulling away from Gavin.

But Silas was already turning his wheelchair around, heading back toward his study.