Page 77 of A Witch and Her Minotaur
The calming scent of lavender twirls around me as I turn and set two teacups on the table.
“Thanks,” Lyra says softly, not meeting my eyes.
This is so unlike her. I’ll admit I’ve not known her long—only a few months—but I’ve never known her to be shy or timid. She’s quite the opposite.
Sinking into the chair across from her, I sigh and decide to get on with it. “Why are you here? What’s going on?”
Lyra stares down into her cup of tea, the steam dancing around her freckled cheeks. “I overheard a couple professors talking in the hallway today,” she says. “And they...” Finally, her striking crimson eyes meet mine. “They were talking about us.”
Something tight snakes around my stomach and squeezes. “What did they say?”
“That I’ve been cozy with you, and someone saw me come back with you on Samhain. And then one said...” She hesitates, glancing away again.
“Said what? Just tell me.”
A furrow forms in her brow. “He said Moonhart hates scandals and that you’ll be toast if you’re caught.”
My stomach squeezes tighter.
Of course, I should have expected this. Especially after Samhain, after we interacted so freely in public. This shouldn’t be a surprise.
“Do they know for sure?” I ask, curling my fingers into fists upon my thighs.
Lyra tips her head, looking unsure. “It sounds like they suspect, but I don’t think they know for sure. But that’s why Raelan helped me sneak out tonight—it would be bad for anyone to see me here like this.”
I turn her words over in my head for a moment, trying to push through the stuffy cotton that my warring emotions of fear and desire are causing to cloud my thoughts. “Why was it so important for you to tell me?” Turning my eyes toward her, I make myself stare at her, even though looking at her hurts. “Why not wait until Saturday, when it was safe?”
Lyra’s jaw feathers. I’m not quite sure what goes through her head, but she sits up a bit straighter. “Because I know this is my fault. And I wanted to tell you. To warn you. If anything happened to you because of me...” The furrow deepens. “You deserved to know.”
You deserved to know.
Without meaning to, I look into the sitting room, where my job offer from the Columbine Conservatory is lying on the table beside my armchair.
She deserves to know, a voice whispers in my ear.I have to tell her, regardless of what I decide.
I push to my hooves. Lyra’s gaze follows me as I walk into the sitting room to retrieve the letter. Then I set it on the table in front of her.
She doesn’t read it. Instead, she just stares at it, at the inked script on the front of the page. Then her eyes move slowly to me.
“What’s this?”
I have to tell her.
“It’s from the conservatory. They’ve offered me the job.” I hesitate, then add, “And they want me to start in the spring.”
A flurry of emotions flashes through her eyes, then settles on something that looks like a mix of sadness and pain. “So... you’re leaving? Just like that?”
I hate the way her voice trembles, just a little bit.Tell her the truth, I say to myself.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
She looks down at the letter again, then slides it away from her across the table. There’s a tense moment of silence. Then she says, “Well, you should. Take the job.”
My eyes narrow. “You mean that?”
She shrugs, feigning nonchalance, but she can’t hide her truth from me—not like she used to be able to. I see the tension in the skin around her mouth, the way her fingers are curled into tight fists.
“Whatever this was”—she gestures between us roughly—“we knew it had to end eventually. It was just temporary.”
