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“It began innocently enough,” Whitley explained.“A generous research grant from a group of anonymous benefactors, channelled through the Institute.We were to study the neurological structure of thralls and how it differed from those with magical abilities.”

“The aim was ostensibly to understand why some individuals are born with magic and others are not,” Chevalier added.“A question that has puzzled arcane researchers for centuries.”

“When did you realise the truth of what they wanted?”Leon asked from where he stood at the foot of Chevalier’s bed.

The French professor’s expression darkened.“When I recognised certain passages in Musgrave’s notes from my…previous association.He had somehow acquired research fromLes Prophètes Illuminés—research I had believed destroyed years ago.”

“You confronted him?”Evander prompted.

Whitley nodded gravely.“We both did.We discovered he had been manipulating our findings and directing our research towards a specific goal without our knowledge.When we threatened to go to the authorities, he warned us that we would regret it.”He paused and swallowed hard before glancing at Chevalier.“That was when Henri and I began gathering evidence to use against Musgrave.He invited us over to his home once, when Henri was visiting London.It was there that we came upon evidence of a secret facility beneath the Institute.We took precautionary measures to protect ourselves and were preparing to reveal our findings to the relevant authorities when Musgrave had us abducted and brought to that hellish place.”

Evander digested this for a moment.“Did you learn anything during your captivity that could help us find his associates?”

Whitley and Chevalier traded a wary glance.

“Only that his master was getting irritated at his lack of results,” Whitley confessed.

A muscle jumped in Chevalier’s jawline.“Musgrave didn’t care about the failures.He spoke of dead thralls as ‘acceptable losses’ in pursuit of what he called ‘the Great Transformation.’He and his master—this ‘I’person—were convinced they could perfect the process with enough test subjects.”

Evander drummed his fingers on his knee.“Did he ever mention something called a Crimson Codex?”

Both professors visibly stiffened.

“Yes,” Whitley said.“He became quite agitated about it in the days before you rescued us.He received a message that led him to believe someone else was close to acquiring it.”

“What’s the Crimson Codex?”Leon asked with a puzzled frown.

Evander told him what they’d found at Musgrave’s residence that morning.

“The Crimson Codex is an ancient text,” Chevalier explained.“Musgrave and his master believe it contains the complete theoretical framework for magical transference and more.Les Prophètes Illuminéswere also aware of its rumoured existence.They theorised that it was written by the very first Archmage, centuries ago.”

Evander’s scalp prickled.“Do you know where it might be found?”

Both professors shook their heads.

“From what we deduced, Musgrave’s master has agents searching for it across Europe,” Whitley said.“Musgrave mentioned something about a collection in Vienna, but nothing more specific than that.”

Mrs.Scarborough stuck her head through the door.“Your Grace, I must insist these gentlemen get some rest.Their bodies are still recovering from significant trauma.”

Evander rose to his feet, chagrined.“Of course.”He gave the professors an apologetic look.“Thank you for your help.”

“Not at all, your Grace,” Whitley murmured.

“It is us who must thank you and your colleagues for getting us out of that place,” Chevalier added gratefully.

A commotion outside had them all tensing.

“Lady Whitley, if you could please wait a—” someone said in a strained voice.

Lady Whitley barged inside the room, her chest heaving.Her clothes were in disarray and strands of hair had escaped her polished coiffure.

Her face crumpled at the sight of her husband.“Walter!”She covered her mouth with her hands, tears slipping down her pale cheeks.

Whitley’s chin trembled, emotion painting red flags across his cheeks.“Elizabeth.”

Lady Whitley ran across the room and launched herself into her husband’s arms, her sobs muffled against his chest.

Evander and Leon left quietly.