Page 47 of Arcane Entanglement

Viggo blinked. “Pardon?”

Shaw wrinkled her nose. “What I mean is, there ain’t a bigger bunch of gossipmongers than Met officers. So, no. I’m afraid Duke Ravenwood’s secret will be common knowledge in all of London come evening.”

Viggo’s heart sank at that.

Time away from Evander had made him realise one thing. There had to be a good reason for him not to have revealed his status as an Archmage.

After all, that title would have earned him even greater wealth and power than he already has. So why keep it a secret?

Winterbourne’s office was on the fifth floor, dead bang in the middle of the administrative offices of the Arcane Division. The location of the commander’s office made it clear he was a man who liked to be in the heat of the action.

Raised voices reached them as they crossed an open space crowded with dozens of desks where men and women sat pretending not to be listening to the vociferous row taking place behind the double doors at the far end.

Shaw stopped and looked at the man sitting at the table closest to Winterbourne’s office.

“Should we give them a moment?”

Winterbourne’s secretary took on the air of someone who’d been asked if he wanted to juggle with knives.

Shaw rolled her eyes and knocked politely. The sound was lost in the noise of the altercation. She squared her shoulders and opened the door just as Evander growled,

“—and you can take that threat and shove it where the sun does not shine,sir!”

Chapter20

“Evander,”Rufus groaned.

“What?” Evander snapped.

His nails bit into his palms as he glared at the lean, wiry man seated behind the impressive oak desk dominating the office.

Reginald Winterbourne watched him with a flinty expression. The older man’s face was lined with the marks of years of service, the thin white scar running along his left jaw a memento from a fight in his younger days. One of the most formidable magical duellists of his generation, Winterbourne hailed from a long line of law enforcement officers. He joined the Met after graduating with distinction from the Royal Institute for the Arcane and rose rapidly through the ranks of the force, his involvement in several high-profile cases catapulting him to fame.

But it was his legendary battle with the rogue necromancer behind the “Crimson Fog Murders” of 1842 that sent him on a fast-track to a leadership role in the Met, making him the youngest commander to ever grace its halls.

Though a fair and demanding leader with an unwavering commitment to justice, Winterbourne was a traditionalist who favoured tried and tested methods for crime investigation and law enforcement. This often put him at odds with progressive officers like Evander and Rufus, who favoured a more experimental approach to their line of work. It also meant Winterbourne could be terribly intransigent when it came to breaking protocol.

Like right now.

Frustration churned Evander’s stomach as he studied the man he’d long considered his mentor.

“It is not a threat, Ravenwood,” Winterbourne said in a glacial tone. “It’s a hard, cold fact. Magnus Graveoak will be remanded to Coldfield Baths as soon as I sign the edict. He will await trial there for his crimes?—”

“Like hell he will!” someone snarled.

Evander’s head whipped around.

Viggo stood framed in the doorway, his hands curled into fists and his expression thunderous.

Shaw peered sheepishly around his powerful frame.

“I brought Mr. Stonewall as instructed, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Shaw.” Winterbourne ignored Viggo’s scowl and indicated the chair next to Evander. “Take a seat, Mr. Stonewall.”

For a moment, Evander thought Viggo would refuse the order.

A muscle twitched in the Brute’s cheek as he met Evander’s gaze.