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The interior ofLe Petit Châteauwas the epitome of French elegance transported to London soil.Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the dining room, their light reflecting off polished silverware and fine bone china.The soft murmur of conversation mingled with the gentle strains of a string quartet playing in the corner.

Evander was conscious of the curious glances he received from the restaurant’s well-heeled patrons as the maître d’hôtel led him through the dining room.Word of his status as an Archmage had added a new layer of fascination to the already substantial interest in his reputation as the Ice Mage.

Leon was already seated at a table in a secluded alcove, the section half partitioned from the main dining area by an ornate lattice screen.He rose as Evander approached, a warm smile playing on his lips.

“Ponctuel comme toujours,” he remarked, gesturing to the chair opposite his own.“You always were admirably on time even when we were together.”

Evander noted Leon had already ordered champagne as he took his seat.A bottle rested in a silver ice bucket beside their table, beads of condensation rolling down its elegant neck.

“I hope you don’t mind.”Leon nodded to the waiter who stepped forward to pour their drinks.“I thought the occasion warranted a celebration of sorts.”

“What exactly are we celebrating?”Evander asked, his tone carefully neutral.

Leon raised his glass, his grey eyes sparkling in the candlelight.“Our reunion, of course.It’s been far too long, mon cher.”

Evander suppressed a sigh and lifted his own glass.

“To finding Whitley, Chevalier, and Thornfield,” he countered pointedly.

Leon inclined his head in acknowledgement before taking a sip.“Of course.Though I maintain that life’s small pleasures should not be neglected, even in dire circumstances.”

As they perused the menu, Leon deftly steered the conversation towards lighter topics—mutual acquaintances in Paris, developments in Elemental Magic theory, the inferior quality of English coffee compared to French.It was a familiar pattern, a dance of words Leon had always excelled at.

Evander found it almost soothing in its familiarity.Still, he guarded himself against being lulled into a false sense of contentment.Leon could be most disarming when he turned on his full charm, a trick Evander had fallen for far too easily in the past.

He waited until they’d ordered before fixing the Frenchman with a sharp stare.

“You said you had some intelligence to share.”

An irritated light flashed in Leon’s eyes.“We should eat first.”

Evander lowered his brows.“I consider this dinner a work engagement, Leon.Nothing more, nothing less.”

Leon’s face tightened.He looked like he wanted to argue for a moment.He took a sip of champagne and finally released a dramatic sigh.“You have grown more dour with age, mon cher.”

“It’s called life experience,” Evander retorted.

Leon rolled his eyes.His expression sobered.

“What I’m about to tell you is not widely known, even within French magical circles,” he said, his voice dropping to ensure privacy.

Evander leaned forward slightly, his attention sharpening.

“Chevalier was once part of a secretive research group within the French Ministry of Arcane Affairs,” Leon continued.“They called themselvesLes Prophètes Illuminés—the Enlightened Prophets.Their focus was pushing the boundaries of what was magically possible.”He faltered and took a measured sip of his champagne, as if to steel himself.“This included the theoretical possibility of transferring magical abilities between individuals.”

Chapter20

Evander’s bloodran cold at these words.

“Is that why you acted the way you did in Rigley’s office this afternoon?”he asked after a protracted pause.

“Yes.”

Dread churned Evander’s stomach.“So Whitley’s research might not be purely theoretical, as Rigley claimed.”

“Not entirely, no,” Leon confirmed grimly.“The group Chevalier belonged to was disbanded nearly a decade ago when their methods became…ethically questionable.Most of their findings were sealed away.”

“But Chevalier continued the work,” Evander surmised.