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The headmaster acknowledged them with polite courtesy.

“Now then, I believe you wish to examine Walter’s chambers?Professor Harrington will show you the way.”Rigley turned to a young woman with brown hair and blue eyes standing a little way behind him.“Cecillia, if you would please do me the favour of escorting our distinguished visitors to Professor Whitley’s quarters?”

She bowed her head at Rigley, her face inscrutable.“Of course, Headmaster.”

“I know the way, sir,” Shaw protested.

Rigley flashed the forensic mage a small smile.“Still, it would be best if you had an escort.”

Evander masked a frown at this, unsure if it was a hint or a threat.

A strange expression darted in Cecillia’s eyes as she met his gaze fleetingly.

Rigley looked calmly at Evander.“I trust what you find will put Lady Whitley’s mind at ease.”He turned and addressed his faculty and the gawping students with a gentle clap of his hands.“Come now, let us all get on with our day.”

Dearmont watched Evander leave while the crowd dispersed, jaw clenched and fingers curled into fists at his sides.

As they followed Cecillia inside the Institute, Evander couldn’t help but note how Rigley’s cooperative demeanour seemed at odds with the mild tension evident in his bearing.The old mage was being helpful, but there was a guardedness in his eyes that suggested he was measuring every word and every gesture as he’d interacted with Evander.

Shaw’s voice distracted him.

“What was that tosser’s problem anyway?”the forensic mage hissed.

Rufus cut his eyes to her.“How about you mind your language, Shaw?”

“This is me minding my language, sir,” Shaw grumbled.“I could have referred to Professor Dearmont as a pox-ridden prick if I so wished.”

Cecillia choked on a snort.

Evander sighed as Rufus and Shaw bickered in low voices.

They traversed grand hallways lined with portraits of distinguished mages from centuries past, the painted eyes seeming to follow their progress.Students pressed themselves against walls to let them pass as they headed deeper into the building, many whispering excitedly behind their hands.

Evander noted this with a wry twist of his lips.The news of his presence and his confrontation with faculty would be all over the Institute by lunchtime, the establishment’s gossip network having always moved with supernatural efficiency.By nightfall, the story would no doubt feature him breathing fire and Dearmont cowering in terror.

He became aware of Cecillia’s side glance as they negotiated a sweeping staircase to the first floor.

“I do not believe we’ve met before, Professor Harrington,” Evander said curiously.

“I joined the Institute the year after you left, your Grace.”

Surprise danced through him.“You must have impressed Headmaster Rigley to have made professor so quickly.”

An odd smile curved Cecillia’s mouth.“I did.Though many would claim I achieved the position through other means.”

Evander gave her a puzzled look.

“Do not mind me, your Grace,” Cecillia murmured.

Something caught her eye then.She stiffened and stopped in her tracks.

Evander followed her gaze out the window of the hallway they were navigating and across a courtyard featuring a garden with a fountain and benches where students and faculty could sit and enjoy the outer air.

A trio of figures in the dark blue robes were running along a passage on the third floor of the east wing of the Institute, their features indistinguishable behind the mullioned glass.

Cecillia began walking again, her robe swishing around her ankles as she quickened her pace.“We should hurry.”

Evander exchanged a faint frown with Rufus and Shaw as they kept up with her.“May I ask why?”