“I’d prefer we talk about the business that’s brought us here.”
Silas straightened at that, leaning away from her and back against his seat. She was impressed at how quickly he recalibrated. Relieved too. Silas was already well aware that no one would use the wordfunto describe her.
“Of course,” Silas said. The waiter brought over their food and set it down in front of them. Katherine tried to be ladylike about it, but she was starving, and half of her shrimp scampi was inhaled in under a minute. Her bad mood faded in degrees, layers getting stripped away by garlic and butter and carbs.
“I wanted to discuss Aestas with you,” Silas said, speaking between his own very prim and proper bites of pasta. “How do you think Sylvia is doing as leader?”
The bad mood slammed back down. It was a perfectly reasonable ask, she knew, but coming out of Silas’ mouth, it sounded less like a question and more like a threat.
“Sylvia is a fantastic leader,” Katherine said, fighting to keep her voice even. “She may not have the breeding or education you have, but she knows how to get things done.”
“I’m well aware that good breeding and education have no direct correlation to actual skill, Katherine.”
His tone was surprisingly hurt. Katherine was struck by the idea that he might be talking about himself.
“Well” was all she said. Silas took a bite of his penne arrabbiata, chewing slowly. Finding a way to make sure she was the one on the defensive again, she supposed. Everything about him, she reminded herself, was calculated. Down to the very expensive socks stuffed in his very expensive shoes.
“Would you say that she’s handling the pressures of running the coven well?” he finally asked. “I know it can be quite hard for witches to maintain the level of power needed, especially with a coven of this size and the length of Sylvia’s tenure.”
Katherine hoped the flash of fear didn’t show in her face. Hoped he saw no hint of the memories of Sylvia with ordinary after ordinary, sitting in that chair in her office, giving up precious days of their lives toher. It was a relatively harmless crime, Katherine reminded herself. The ordinaries knew what they were giving, and Sylvia was doing what she needed to do to keep their coven afloat. To make sure that every unsettled witch had a home.
No matter the cost.
“She’s handling the pressure phenomenally, as she has for the last fifteen years. I have full confidence in her abilities to keep the coven running and to ensure that every witch who is welcomed into Aestas is given all of the resources they need to succeed. Something your coven could work on.”
Silas bristled. “And what do you mean by that?”
“Aestas welcomes witches of all backgrounds. Settled and unsettled. Noctis’ closed-door policy leaves the most vulnerable witches alone and unsupported.”
“Noctis’ policies are designed to keep our members safe,” Silas said, parroting the words from Noctis’ handbook. “We welcome those born to non-witch parents to join once their magic has settled, but the risk is too high for us to provide our assistance before that point.”
“So, what?” Katherine snapped. “You leave them in the cold during the scariest time in their life, and once they’ve managed to claw their way out of that, they get the privilege of joining a group of people who look at them like they’re no better than the dirt on their shoe? Sounds like a bum deal to me.”
Silas shifted in his seat. At least he seemed to have the decency to realize what Noctis did was wrong. Katherine had heard what they did with the few unsettled witches who came to them for help—told them they were too dangerous to be in society; that they should find somewhere far, far away from civilization and try not to snap for the next few years. Those who didn’t take that advice were forced out of the city. And when they came back, finally settled, the coven ostracized them so badly that most of them left the world of magic for good.
“There’s no better way.”
Katherine let out a bitter laugh. “My god, your parents have you brainwashed.”
He flinched at the wordparents, the action miniscule.
“I know that Aestas has a training camp for unsettled witches, but there have been dozens of accidents. Most witches don’t make it out of there alive. They—”
“What?”
Silas hesitated. “I was always told that most of the witches who go to Oak Grove don’t come back.”
“Do you even bother to question the propaganda they stuff down your throat?”
“They’ve always said the camp wasn’t a safe place—”
Katherine’s hand clenched reflexively around her knife, her anger bubbling to the surface, pushing the words out of her: “Well, as the camp’s first graduate, let me just say—that is absolute bullshit.”
Silas blinked twice. Katherine hadn’t meant to admit that. He thought back to the initial conversation he’d had with Sylvia about unsettled witches in Aestas, and he knew Katherine had not been on that list. The flush crawling up her neck and the tension in her body suggested there was a reason for that. She was gripping her butter knife like a sword, her knuckles white against the gleaming metal.
“I didn’t—” she started, at the same time as he said, “You don’t—” They both stopped, staring at each other across the table like they were about to duel.
“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Silas said, breaking the tense silence. “I can forget you said that.”
