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Surprise flared across Viggo’s face.He stared at Evander.

“He doesn’t know?”

“No,” Evander replied irritably.“I don’t make it a habit of shouting my past affairs from the rooftop of every building in London.”

Confusion clouded Rufus’s face for a moment.He stiffened when understanding finally dawned.“Oh.”His expression fell.“Oh…”

“Yes,” Viggo confirmed darkly.“And it seems that French bastard wants to rekindle their past relationship.”He shot a guilty look at Evander.“Not that you have any intention of agreeing, of course.I completely trust you.You know that, right?”

Evander sighed.“How about we focus on the case?”

They were halfway across the foyer when Shaw appeared.

“I’ve spoken with Dr.Mortimer,” she said breathlessly as she joined them, her usual brisk stride even more hurried than normal.“He’s agreed to expedite the necropsy on James Harker personally, per your request.”

“Good,” Evander said.“Let’s not waste any more time.”He paused as a thought came to him.“By the way, did the forensic team find anything of note at Walter Whitley’s home?”

“No, your Grace,” Shaw said, chagrined.“Lady Whitley was most helpful, but there were no clues on the premises to aid our investigation.”

The forensic mage fell into step beside Viggo as they departed Scotland Yard, an air of curiosity evident in her sidelong glances.

“Something on your mind, Miss Shaw?”Viggo asked eventually, his tone surprisingly patient.

“I sense some tension between you and the French investigator,” Shaw said innocently.“So, what’s the beef between you two?”

Viggo blinked.Rufus groaned.

“How about you save your investigative spirit for Whitley’s laboratory, Shaw?”Evander suggested coolly.

The forensic mage wrinkled her button nose, her eyes gleaming with undiminished curiosity.“But my investigative spirit senses a scandalous story, your Grace,” she declared, unabashed.She grinned at Viggo.“And judging from Mr.Stonewall’s expression, it’s a humdinger.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Viggo protested at Evander’s frown.

Leon was waiting for them outside Scotland Yard, next to a police carriage.

The ride to the Royal Institute was swift, the tension between the Frenchman and Viggo eclipsed by that of their forthcoming task.

Evander could feel Viggo’s discomfort intensify when they passed through the iron gates of the Institute.For a man who had spent his life avoiding the magical elite, entering this bastion of arcane privilege must have been like walking into the lion’s den.

The courtyard was strangely quiet.To Evander’s relief, they did not cross paths with any meddlesome faculty members on their way to the south wing.

Fitch and Bartley stood to attention outside Whitley’s lab.They greeted Evander with a salute, their gazes settling on Viggo with undisguised curiosity.

Fitch’s eyes widened with recognition.“Oh.”He recovered his composure.“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”He bobbed his head courteously.

Viggo appeared surprised for a moment.“I appreciate the sentiment, Constable, but I am hardly a noble,” he grunted.

“You are a hero of the people, sir,” Fitch stated quietly.“And I believe in giving credit where it is due, regardless of status.”

Evander couldn’t hide his astonishment.This was the most he’d ever heard Fitch articulate to anyone about his personal opinions.

Shaw beamed at Viggo.“See?I told you so.”

Bartley elbowed Fitch sharply in the ribs.“Psst,” he hissed.“Who is this bloke?!”

“It’s your favourite thrall.”

Bartley stared.