Page 15 of Arcane Entanglement

Just as he’d suspected, the House of Lords was getting ready to petition the government for the Arcane Division to become a separate entity from the Metropolitan Police. Evander was aware the motion had been gaining grounds in the halls of power, at the behest of a group of elitists who wanted the Arcane Division to become the exclusive remit of the aristocracy.

A department of magic run by nobles for nobles.

It was a dangerous idea and one he feared would make relations even more strained between thralls and those gifted with magic. Worse, it could lead to another war between the two factions. A war the nobles no doubt wanted.

Evander firmly believed the Arcane Division belonged in the Met and that the department needed all types of magic users and even thralls in its workforce. It was the only way to deliver true justice at every level of society, rather than enforce powers that would prove disadvantageous to many. To his relief, it seemed Lord Ashbrooke agreed with his views.

He and Ginny were almost out the front doors when someone called out to him breathlessly.

“Duke Ravenwood!”

Surprise jolted Evander when he turned.

Miss Miller was rushing towards them, her face pale and her eyes strangely glassy. He stiffened when she walked right up to him and grasped his arm, her hold surprisingly strong for someone so slender.

“What the—?!” Ginny mumbled.

Magic warmed Evander’s flesh even through his clothes. He shivered, awed by its purity and power. Ginny drew a sharp breath beside him.

White sparks danced like stars in the depths of Miss Miller’s pupils.

“Be careful,mage,” she warned Evander, her voice low and grave. “You are in danger. You must put your faith in the purple flower. It is the only way you will survive all that is to come!”

A figure loomed behind Miss Miller in the next instant.

“Ophelia Miller!” Lady Wentworth hissed. “Please comport yourself!” The older woman was huffing and puffing, having evidently dashed after her young charge.

Her chaperone’s voice snapped Miss Miller out of her daze. She blinked, awareness returning to her face on a rush of colour.

“I’m—I’m so sorry, your Grace!” She snatched her hand away, mortified. “I don’t know what came over me.” She avoided Evander and Ginny’s eyes, curtsied stiffly, and headed back towards the ballroom.

Lady Wentworth groaned and gathered her skirts before following at a fast shuffle.

Chapter8

Evander and Ginnystared after their disappearing figures.

“What was that about?” Ginny muttered.

Evander swallowed, his skin still hot where Miss Miller had touched him. He had a feeling he knew the magic he’d just felt in the young woman’s touch and glimpsed in her eyes.

“Evander?”

Ginny’s voice made him flinch. She was studying him with a troubled expression. “You’ve gone as white as a ghost.”

Evander registered the curious stares they were drawing from the nearby footmen and the few couples in the foyer.

“I’m alright,” he murmured. “We should leave.”

Ginny shot furtive glances his way as they navigated the front steps of Ashbrooke House. They were inside their carriage and out of St. James's Square in minutes.

“All in all, that was quite a strange evening,” Ginny said after a while. She dropped her head against the padded back of the carriage seat and closed her eyes.

Evander dragged his gaze from the street lights outside. Piccadilly was quieter than it had been earlier that evening, the only people about late night revellers emerging from clubs and hotels.

“Did you have a satisfactory meeting with Lord Fairfax?”

“I did.” Ginny opened her eyes and pinned him with a knowing stare. “Did your talk with Lord Ashbrooke confirm your speculations?”