Chapter Twenty-Six
Silas was trapped.
He was glued to his seat, unable to follow through on the urge to bolt out of the room. Every instinct in him was screaming to leave, to get out while he still had the chance, but it was too late.
His parents were already fighting.
They were projected across from him, the dual chairs from their office in New York making it look as though they were sitting on a pair of thrones. Silas always felt small talking to them, even though he was taller than both of them.
“She’ll likely be able to fix the wards,” his father said. His voice was, as always, measured and calm. “We’ll need to pursue a different avenue.”
“We shouldn’t have given her a week to fix them.
” His mother’s tone, by contrast, was fiery.
During coven meetings, Vikrant handled all procedural elements, and then Nina would step in to give the rousing speeches that had everyone standing to applaud.
Listening to his mother speak, it was hard not to get sucked in, not to give up everything he wanted in service of making her happy.
But this was different—an edge to her voice that screamed danger.
“That’s policy,” Vikrant said smoothly. “We need to go by the book with this.”
As usual, the conversation was mostly between his parents, with Silas ping-ponging between the two of them like he was watching a tennis match.
He had been asked to interject a whopping three times as they discussed the “Sylvia situation,” a statement his mom had uttered with enough disdain to send shivers down Silas’ spine.
“We went by the book with her thirty years ago and look where that got us,” Nina snapped. “Fuck the book.”
Silas flinched. He rarely heard his mother curse, and it sounded wrong coming out of her mouth. She was usually as gung ho about rules as his father was, but there was a difference in the way she spoke about Sylvia, those jagged edges slashing at everything around her.
He wondered what would happen if his parents really did decide to fuck the book.
The spells they had access to made what they gave the covens look like child’s play.
If they wanted to, they could crush Sylvia like a bug without even having to get out of their seats.
But they tied themselves to rules they made, reining in their power in service of the law—laws Silas was wondering if his mother was starting to regret.
“Nina,” Vikrant chided. They turned toward each other, whispering in hushed, angry tones while Silas fiddled with the pleats on his suit pants.
After a few moments, Vikrant placed a soft hand on Nina’s arm, leaning in and whispering something in her ear that immediately dissolved her angry expression into a smile.
And then they separated and turned their attention back to their son, who was waiting at their beck and call, as always.
Silas tried to call up some of the conviction he’d had in Sylvia’s office to tell his parents that he didn’t want this.
He wanted to go back to teaching his class, to finding other ways to contribute to the family’s legacy.
But there was never any space for what Silas wanted, not when the room was so full of what Noctis needed.
“We’ll have Research write up a list of further code violations that you can search for,” Vikrant said. “Do so without warning or announcement. We don’t want to give Sylvia any longer to fix them than is contractually obligated.”
“Understood.” Silas’ voice broke slightly, dry from the time sitting here and not speaking.
“And you should try to push her buttons personally, too,” Nina added. “She’s a prideful person. You can use that.”
“I will.”
“Your room okay?” his father asked.
Silas nodded. He didn’t know what could be not okay about the room—it was the penthouse suite of a high-end hotel.
His parents always booked him first-class flights, nice cars, expensive restaurants.
It was their way of taking care of him, and he appreciated it.
But he wished that care could extend to asking about the things that actually mattered to him.
“Yeah, it’s great. Thank you.”
“Make sure you’re eating well,” Nina said. “Red Bull is not a balanced breakfast.”
Silas grinned. “Says who?”
Nina smiled back, showcasing the dimple that matched his own. “Don’t make me get a doctor on the phone again.”
“Fine, fine. I will eat.”
“Good,” his father said. “You need to keep your strength up. Your job is really important, Silas.”
Silas knew that. He knew, more than anything, how important he was to Noctis.
He’d been told that again and again, every day of his life—heir to the dynasty, the honor of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.
He knew that he mattered to the coven. The question that haunted him was how much he mattered outside of it.
“I know.”
They said their goodbyes and then hung up. Silas slipped in his AirPods and FaceTimed Anika, not bothering with a spell.
“You have two minutes until I finish my salad,” she said by way of greeting. She held up the salad container.
“Is that—”
“Macaroni salad is still salad, Silas. It’s in the name.”
“I don’t think—”
“I will not be taking health critiques from a man who has Hot Cheetos on an Subscribe and Save.”
Silas sighed, then stood and started pacing, ignoring Anika’s complaints. He distracted himself from LA with thoughts of New York. “Do you know who’s taking over my class?”
“Gotta keep your caster clean to do magic / ’Less you want this to get tragic,” Anika rapped.
“No,” Silas whimpered.
“Yes.”
“Oh, those poor kids.”
The rap was the work of the most insufferable teacher at the school, whom Silas simply referred to as Hamilton, for obvious reasons. Silas itched to hop on a plane immediately and save his students from further off-off-off-off-off-Broadway suffering.
“He’s finally discovered A-B-B-A rhyme scheme, so at least they’ll have a little variety this year,” Anika joked.
Silas walked into the bathroom and splashed water on his face, letting the cold calm him down after the stress of talking to his parents.
He unbuttoned his shirt slightly to wet his neck and chest, then ran water through his hair, combing it through his thick locks as he stared at himself in the mirror.
He already looked different—more worn out than he had in New York, like he had hollowed.
He knew in theory he could still teach here, could pursue that passion alongside leading Aestas, but in practice, it wouldn’t be possible.
He’d be too bogged down in paperwork and politics, bits taken out of his soul day after day after day until there was nothing left.
He grabbed a towel, squeezing some of the water out of his hair as he flopped down onto the bed.
“Focus on the positives,” Anika said. “Have you met anyone fun?”
Silas felt his face change when he thought of Katherine. Anika pounced on it instantly.
“Oh! Who is she? Will I like her? Are you going to fall in love? Fuck. I need to get back on Hinge ASAP so we can double date.”
“You’re getting ahead of yourself, Nik. She doesn’t even like me.”
“Oh my god, that’s so hot.”
Silas heard a soft knock on his door. “I gotta go. Someone’s here.”
“I bet it’s her! I need to move to LA, everything is a movie there.”
Silas rolled his eyes as he walked to the door. “It’s not—”
It was. Katherine was wearing a green crop top that brought out her eyes and made Silas wish for another splash of cold water. She had a determined look on her face, her hand raised as if she’d been about to knock again.
“It’s her, isn’t it? Hi! I’m Anika!”
Silas slammed his thumb down on the end call button, then pulled out his headphones and leaned against the doorway, forcing a casual cool into his body.
Katherine looked at Silas standing in the doorway of his hotel room.
He wasn’t wearing a jacket again, and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone, showing a pane of muscled chest. His hair was damp, and he was mussing it with a towel, and the whole thing was so stereotypically erotic that Katherine couldn’t help the laugh that burst out of her.
“Hello to you too.”
She flushed. “Sorry. You’re just…” She gestured at him. He raised an eyebrow, daring her to explain what he was.
“Clearly indisposed. Sorry for interrupting.”
He quirked a small smile, his dark eyes glittering with amusement. “No problem.”
He gestured for her to come inside, and she did, futzing at the hem of her shirt while she wished there was a spell to erase her blushing cheeks. That would be called getting laid, she thought.
She should not be thinking about getting laid while she was standing feet away from Silas’ very large, very inviting bed.
Focus.
She couldn’t believe she was doing this.
It had been reckless of her to blurt out her past to Silas. She knew that. One word from him and she’d be kicked out of Aestas for good.
And yet she’d been able to sleep the night before, rather than pacing her apartment worrying who he might tell.
For some strange reason, she felt safe with him.
He had been nothing but open, honest, and fair, acknowledging his privilege and showing a willingness to learn.
It wasn’t enough to make her trust him fully, but it was enough to make her believe that he wouldn’t actively try to screw her over for no reason, which was far more than she trusted most people.
“So,” he said as he buttoned his shirt, sealing her distraction away under a layer of fabric. “I trust this is not a social visit.”
She was shocked to realize that a good part of her wished it could be.
Silas was smart, and funny, and seemed like he might spend a good deal of time hating himself, which meant they had a shared hobby.
If things were different, maybe she and Fiona could be nursing their respective crushes together, talking about double dates and weekend getaways with Silas and Tess.
But that couldn’t happen. Katherine was too much of a mess for a normal relationship.
A relationship with this man, this threat to her home, would never work out.
She’d rather save them both the future heartbreak.
“It’s not.”
Silas pulled out the chair of the desk for her, gesturing for her to sit.
She did, shivering as his fingers brushed her shoulders before he walked away and perched on the edge of the bed.
He leaned toward her, the motion pushing his shoulders forward and showing his muscled arms through the material of his shirt.
“What can I help you with today then, Katherine?”
Her hands balled into fists. Risky. This was very risky.
But she didn’t think she had any other choice.
“There’s someone in Aestas making and selling altum.”
Silas stared at her. “You mean the man you tried at the coven meeting the other night?”
Katherine shook her head. “He was selling, but I don’t think he was making it.
Someone else is doing that. And I think I know who, but I can’t find any actual evidence.
I was wondering if you could help with the tracking spell.
” She gestured at his pocket, where she knew he kept that small spellbook.
Who knew what that thing held? Maybe there was something Noctis hadn’t shared, something that would help her pin Byron to the wall. “Or if you had anything stronger.”
She took in Silas’ pinched face.
Oh no, she thought. I overstepped. I told him too much, asked for too much, and now he’s going to use this to get Sylvia out, and it’s all going to be my fault.
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have. I’ll just—”
Katherine stood, hustling toward the door, but Silas stopped her with a warm hand on her shoulder.
“Katherine,” he said. “Who do you think is doing it?”
“Byron Chambers.”
Silas blinked.
“I know he’s from a powerful family,” she said. “I recognize the risks of confronting him. But I think that the benefits outweigh—”
“Byron isn’t doing it, Katherine. Sylvia is.”
Katherine’s breath hitched. Not good, for her breath to hitch now. Not good for her heart to pound against her chest, for her head to fill with that familiar wooly static. Not good for a panic attack to creep in when she desperately needed to keep her wits about her.
Silas thought Sylvia was making altum.
This was bad. The only thing that could make it worse was if he knew Sylvia had been at—
“I found her caster at Hollywood and Highland.”
And that was worse. Questions peppered Katherine’s mind—when Silas had found it; how Sylvia hadn’t noticed it was missing; what Silas planned to do with this information. If Silas knew that there was more to this story.
“That doesn’t mean she had anything to do with the altum,” Katherine tried, even though she knew it was a long shot.
Throwing something at the wall and hoping it might stick so she could leave here and break down in the elevator.
Figure it all out once she was on the other side of this panic attack.
“She admitted to making it.”
“She … what?”
Katherine’s breath was gone now, nothing left to hitch.
She took a step toward the door, and it felt like she was walking through mud, but she needed to go, needed to get out, because there was no stopping the panic attack now, and she needed to not be here when it happened.
Silas couldn’t see her like this, couldn’t see her this weak, not when he—
Warm hands on her shoulders. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t.
“Katherine,” Silas said, a crack in his voice. “Please.”
She looked up. His eyes were wide, brows knitted together in concern.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said it like that. I just … I thought you already knew. Or suspected, at least.”
“I … No, she couldn’t have done that.”
“She told me she did.”
He didn’t know—didn’t know what he was saying, what he was implying, but Katherine did. If Sylvia was the one making altum, then that would mean that she was the one who gave it to Lily, which would mean …
He had to be wrong. He had to be.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not, Katherine,” he said, his lips pursed. “She told me.”
“You’re lying,” Katherine repeated, the panic fading and turning into something else, something white hot. “You’re just saying this so that you can kick Sylvia out and Noctis can take over.”
“I know she’s important to you.”
“Important?” Katherine scoffed. She was burning with rage, so angry that she could feel sweat dripping down the back of her neck. “She has done everything for me. Everything. And you think you can come in here and make up lies—”
“I’m not lying!”
“Yes, you are!”
“Katherine, I’m on your side! I went to Sylvia when I found her caster instead of my parents because I want her to prove her innocence. I don’t want—”
He stopped, and Katherine stared at him, daring him to continue. But his eyes were instead glued to the door behind her, widening with alarm.
She whirled, stifling a curse as she took in his view.
Smoke, pouring in tendrils under the door.
“We need to get out of here.”