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Viggo rose, came around the desk, and dropped into the chair next to his friend.

“I know it’s hard to trust Scotland Yard.To trust mages.”The Brute hesitated and pressed a hand on Solomon’s knee.“To trust Evander.”He clenched his jaw.“God, Sly, never in a million years could I have imagined that I would be saying these words to you right now, but I am.I amaskingyou to trust Evander.”

A fraught hush ensued.

“I don’t dislike the man, Viggo.”Solomon’s shoulders drooped.“It’s just…” He trailed off and shot a conflicted look at Viggo.

“It’s just what?”

“He’s an Archmage.”Solomon ran a hand through his hair and released a sigh heavy with frustration.“And there hasn’t been a single Archmage in history who’s ever been on our side.”

Chapter4

Viggo retractedhis hand and stared moodily at the floor.He could not deny the truth of his friend’s words.But he also knew Evander would never abandon him.Abandon thralls.

The mage had made it his lifelong mission to bring equality and justice to his kind, after all.And Viggo was determined to help him in any capacity to achieve his nigh-impossible dream.Not just because he loved Evander, but because he trusted the man behind the name.

Solomon’s words interrupted his troubled thoughts.“You should know that I’m not the only one in our guild who thinks this.”

Viggo gave him a wry look.“Do I hear murmurs of a revolution?”

Solomon rolled his eyes.“Like any of us would stand a chance against you.”

They shared a small smile.One borne of decades of friendship and built upon the sweat, blood, and tears they’d shed as children trying to survive the horrors of growing up in the slums of the capital.

“Have you heard from your source at the Ministry of Arcane Affairs?”Viggo asked quietly.

“Not a squeak,” Solomon confessed with a grimace.“The one at the War Office is being similarly tight-lipped.”

Viggo grunted, unsurprised.In the weeks since Renwick’s death, their efforts to uncover the identity of the mysterious “I” had yielded frustratingly little results.It was as if the puppet master who had been controlling the dark mage and his lackeys had vanished into the ether, leaving no trace for evenNightshade’s extensive network to follow.

“What about theNoctis Bloomtrade?”

Solomon’s expression darkened.“There’s been a surge in demand across the city.Local sources report several large purchases in the past fortnight, all by different buyers, but with similar descriptions—hooded figures, speaking with educated accents.”

Viggo’s jaw tightened.“Mages.”

Solomon drummed his fingers on his knee.“Most likely those affiliated with dark magic.And they’re paying well above market rate, which suggests urgency.”

Viggo furrowed his brow.“Whatever they’re planning, they need it soon.Are we any closer to identifying who’s supplying the vendors?”

“Not yet,” Solomon said in a hard voice.“He’s a crafty bastard, whoever he is.Our agents haven’t been able to identify even a hint of his shadow.”

Viggo clenched his jaw.It had become clear to them that someone influential was behind the sudden influx ofNoctis Bloomin the London underground market, where illegal substances and objects traded hands after dark.

He wondered if the Met had unearthed any clues yet as to their nemesis’s future scheme.Viggo frowned.

Evander would have told me if they had.

Though the mage abided by the strict rules that prevented him from sharing confidential police information with people outside the Met, he would have put Viggo andNightshadeon the right path if he and his colleagues had stumbled upon information concerning their common target.

The Brute’s grim musings were interrupted by Finn Callaghan’s arrival, the Irishman’s usual swagger absent as he knocked cursorily and strode inside the room.His expression was steely, his sea-green eyes lacking their customary mischievous glint.

“Boss, we’ve got a visitor.Says it’s urgent.”

Viggo exchanged a puzzled glance with Solomon.“Who?”

“A woman from Whitechapel.A thrall.Her brother’s gone missing.”