Page 5 of Arcane Entanglement

Chapter3

Griffiths swore and rushed forward,Rufus on his heels.

“Good God man, are you quite alright?!” the sergeant barked.

“Yes, Sir,” the constable replied hastily. “But—it’s a disaster!”

Shaw moved past the inspector and the sergeant, and picked some kind of seed off the constable’s uniform. To everyone’s horror, she brought it to her mouth and licked it.

“Jesus wept, Miss Shaw!” Griffiths rasped.

Shaw arched a quizzical eyebrow at the constable. “Melon?”

The young man nodded jerkily, colour staining his ears a little at Shaw’s proximity. “Yes, Miss. A cart full of melons bound for Covent Garden crashed into a wagon of berries and pomegranates headed to Kensington Market.”

Relief shot through Evander. Rufus visibly relaxed.

Brown’s lips twitched. “My, it sounds like a veritable?—”

“Don’t say it,” Evander warned.

“—fruit salad out there, eh?”

Everyone groaned, including the constable with melon stains all over his uniform.

Brown beamed at Evander’s sharp stare. “What’s life without a good pun now and then, your Grace?”

Evander sighed. “It’s less irritating, Mr. Brown.”

Another constable dashed into the alley. “Sarge, we could use some help out here! A fight’s broken out!”

As if to underscore his words, an enchanted whistle pierced the rowdy air.

“Bloody hell!” Griffiths cursed.

He hastily gathered his men and headed towards the thoroughfare, the runes on his truncheon coming to life as he removed the weapon from his waistband. The Met’s preferred mode of dispelling rabble-rousers these days was to use defensive magic before inflicting bodily harm.

Rufus hesitated and looked over at Evander.

“Go.” Evander jerked his head after Griffiths’s disappearing figure. “We’ll be alright.”

Rufus nodded and headed after the sergeant, leaving Evander in the alley with the forensic mage and the alchemist. Evander knew he was keen to make sure things didn’t get out of hand out there.

Tensions between the magicless and those who ruled over them were on the rise, a result of the stark and growing disparity in wealth that existed at either end of the societal class. The East End, with its squalid districts rampant with poverty, crime, and desperation, was a simmering cauldron of resentment and loathing just waiting for the perfect spark to kindle a fresh conflict. One Evander feared could lead to another War of Subjugation.

Shaw watched Rufus leave with a conflicted expression.

“What’s the matter?” Brown asked.

“I’m wondering if I should go out there and secure one of those lost melons.”

Brown squinted. “They ain’t lost, Shaw. And what you’re describing is theft.” The alchemist glanced at Evander. “Help me out here, your Grace.”

“Mr. Brown is right, Miss Shaw,” Evander said as he wandered deeper into the alley. “You’ll get in trouble with the law.” He paused and arched an eyebrow at the forensic mage. “I’ll bring you a melon next time my cook buys some, so please refrain from accidentally nicking one of those unfortunate cantaloupes on your way out of here.”

Shaw brightened and fist-pumped the air. Brown muttered under his breath.

Something clinked against Evander’s boot. He frowned and lifted his foot out of the puddle he’d just stepped into. Water dripped into the dirty spill, spreading ripples across the brown surface.