Chapter 13

Eileen's POV

"I hope that was okay," I said, suddenly uncertain. "I didn't mean to overstep, but—"

"I wasn't planning to go anyway."

His voice was flat, matter-of-fact. He started maneuvering his wheelchair toward the hallway, clearly considering the conversation over.

My heart sank. That casual dismissal hurt more than anger would have.

"Wait." I moved quickly, stepping in front of the wheelchair before I could chicken out. "About last night..."

His hands stilled on the wheels. Those silver-gray eyes fixed on me, and I had to force myself not to look away.

"I need to explain what happened in the hallway." My fingers twisted together nervously. "With Gavin, I mean. We weren't—there's nothing between us. He just happened to be there when I tripped."

The silence stretched out for what felt like forever. My pulse hammered in my throat.

"I know Gavin was doing his job," Silas said finally. His tone was perfectly neutral, which somehow made it worse. "As Beta, protecting people in the manor is his responsibility."

He paused, and I could see something shift in his expression—not anger, but something more distant.

"I'm not blaming him. Or you."

The words should have been reassuring, but they felt like a door closing. He was being reasonable, professional even. But there was no warmth in it, no indication that he'd cared one way or another about seeing me in another man's arms.

He's emphasizing duty. Not asking if I was hurt. Not showing any sign of jealousy or concern beyond the professional.

The realization stung more than I wanted to admit.

"For the gathering," he continued, already moving the conversation forward, "Gavin will escort you."

My stomach dropped.

"You'll need reliable protection."

It was a perfectly logical arrangement. Completely appropriate. And it made me want to scream.

He really doesn't care. Or he's decided not to care.

I watched him prepare to wheel away again, and something inside me snapped. I was so tired of being passive, of letting moments slip away because I was too scared or too proud to fight for what I wanted.

"Silas, wait." I took a deep breath, steadying myself. "I need to ask you something."

He paused, looking back at me with that same neutral expression.

"I've been studying mother's notebook." The words came out in a rush. "There are some basic formulas in there—purification bases and stabilizing potions that could help manage the symptoms of dark curses. I want to try making them."

His eyebrows rose slightly. The first real reaction I'd gotten from him since this conversation started.

"I know it's a long shot," I continued quickly, before I could lose my nerve. "And I know you've probably tried everything already. But these are old formulas, from before the witch-shifter alliance broke down. Some of them might have been lost to most practitioners."

I was babbling now, but I couldn't stop.

"I can use the manor's greenhouse and herb stores, right? I'll be careful, I won't waste resources, and I'll document everything properly. I just—" I met his eyes directly. "I want to help. Will you let me try?"

The question hung in the air between us. This was about more than just making potions. We both knew it.

Will you let me in? Will you trust me with this?

Silas was quiet for a long moment, studying my face. I could see something working behind those silver-gray eyes—calculation, consideration, maybe a hint of the same vulnerability I'd glimpsed before.

"The greenhouse and herb stores are yours to use," he said finally. "Tell Martha what materials you need."

Relief flooded through me so fast it made me dizzy. "Really?"

"You'll need access to the underground greenhouse too." His tone was businesslike, but there was something softer underneath. "Some of the rarer ingredients are kept there. Climate controlled."

He wasn't saying yes to trying the potions himself. Not directly. But he was giving me everything I needed to make them, which was close enough.

"Thank you." The words came out more emotional than I'd intended. "Thank you so much. I promise I won't let you down."

Something flickered across his face—too quick for me to identify. But when he spoke again, his voice was gentler.

"When you get back from the gathering, show me what you've made."

It wasn't quite a promise to try them. But it wasn't a refusal either.

A smile broke across my face before I could stop it. "Really? You mean it?"

And there it was—that look I'd been hoping for. The one that made my insides go warm and fluttery. Silas was watching me with an expression I couldn't quite read, but his eyes had lost that distant, shuttered quality.

The morning sun was streaming through the stained glass windows, throwing colored patterns across the marble floor. One of the beams caught me directly, and I could feel the warmth on my skin.

He's staring.

The realization made my heart skip. He wasn't looking at me the way he'd look at a business associate or a political ally. This was something else entirely.

"I'll start right away," I said, suddenly self-conscious under that intense gaze. "The basic formulas need several hours to brew, and with the preparation time—if I start now, they should be ready by the time I get back from the party."

I was talking too fast again, my words tumbling over each other in my excitement.

"There's a purification base that needs to simmer for hours, and then the active ingredients have to be added in a specific sequence based on lunar timing, which actually works out perfectly because—"

I stopped, realizing I was probably boring him with technical details.

But Silas wasn't looking bored. If anything, there was the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth.