Maybe it was due to her upbringing, or maybe it was just her inherent nature, but Ivy Saint James was unlike any other magical being he’d ever met before. As she settled back into her chair, she glanced at him. “Do you have an apothecary in this maze of a house? You didn’t show me one on the tour.” Silas smirked, picking up his wine. “Technically no, but I’m sure you’ll find what you need in the kitchen and pantry.” Taking a sip, he added, “If you’d prefer a Witch’s apothecary all to yourself, I can make such arrangements.” It would take one snap of his fingers and a new room would appear in
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