Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 17

“I’m sorry.”

Evander’s voice dragged Viggo from the dark turn his thoughts had taken.

“Whatever for?”

“For making you remember something unpleasant,” the mage said quietly. There was no conceit in his voice or expression.

“How strange,” Viggo said.

Evander glanced at him quizzically. “What is?”

“That a mage cares so much about thralls. And a Brute at that.”

Evander stopped walking abruptly, causing Viggo and Solomon to nearly bump into him. The look in the mage’s eyes made Viggo’s breath catch when he turned to face them.

Evander’s ice-blue gaze had shifted to the colours of a storm-tossed sea.

“The only thing that differentiates us is the circumstances of our birth, Mr. Stonewall,” he said in a voice that would have quaked with anger had he not had such a tight rein over his emotions. “And that is nothing but a stroke of luck. It is simply fortune, or misfortune, that neither of us had any control over. At the end of the day, we’re all made of flesh, bone, and blood.”

An awkward silence fell between them. Evander twisted around and resumed walking at a brisk pace, evidently not caring if they followed or not.

Viggo and Solomon fell into step behind him.

“I like history and science too,” Viggo volunteered gruffly after a moment. He ignored Solomon’s side stare. “And botany. I very much like botany.”

Evander’s shoulders slowly unknotted as he accepted this tentative olive branch. “I also saw books on commerce and law in your office.”

Viggo’s chest loosened. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t like seeing this man upset. By the time they reached the west wing of the fortress and the Arcane Division, Viggo learned that they shared many a reading interest.

A man with dark hair and slate-blue eyes was waiting for them inside Evander’s office.

“Thank goodness you’re alright!” he started in a voice full of relief as Evander entered the room. He rose from his chair. “I got your message late last night. Is Mr. Stonewall really joining—?” He stopped at the sight of Viggo and Solomon, surprise flitting across his face before he carefully schooled his expression. “Oh. My apologies, your Grace. I didn’t know you had company.”

The silver aiguillette on the stranger’s uniform indicated he was an inspector in the Met. And the way he’d quickly shifted from a casual to a formal address told Viggo he and Evander were close acquaintances in private.

Evander waived honorific as he made the introductions. “Rufus, this is Viggo Stonewall and his associate, Solomon Barden.” He indicated the inspector. “This is Inspector Rufus Grayson. He’s assisting me on this case.”

Viggo’s stomach sank. “The case? I didn’t realise Magnus was being formally investigated.”

“Oh.” Evander’s expression turned contrite. “I apologise for the misunderstanding. We are not investigating Mr. Graveoak. The attack on my carriage is related to a case Rufus and I are working on.”

Relief shot through Viggo at that.

“Magnus Graveoak is the name of our Brute in the holding cell,” Evander explained at Rufus’s inquisitive look.

“Can I ask what your case relates to?” Viggo said curiously.

Rufus frowned. “I’m afraid that’s?—”

“It’s a murder,” Evander said.

The inspector gave the Ice Mage a chagrined look.

Unease prickled Viggo’s scalp. He exchanged a cautious glance with Solomon.

“You mean the man who was found dead in Bethnal Green two days ago?”

Full blown suspicion clouded Rufus’s face. Viggo could tell the inspector trusted him as far as he could throw him.

Evander met Viggo’s stare levelly.

“Do you know something about the murder victim?”

Viggo shook his head. “Only that magic was involved in his death.”

“Everything that happens in the slums eventually reaches Nightshade ’s ears,” Solomon explained at Evander and Grayson’s guarded expressions.

The two men shared a look.

“Then we may have need to call upon your guild for future assistance on this matter,” Evander said. “Is that something you would be willing to entertain?”

Viggo lowered his brows. “You want Nightshade to help the Met?”

He couldn’t mask the disbelief in his voice.

“Yes.”

Solomon’s expression turned shrewd. “It will cost you.”

Rufus bristled. “I hope you’re not intending to rip off the Met, sir!”

Solomon’s eyes shrank to slits. “The last time someone called me sir, he had to look for his teeth in a ditch.”

Rufus scowled.

Evander sighed. “How about we go see Mr. Graveoak for now?”

Tension oozed through Viggo as Evander and Rufus led the way to the south wing of the complex. He could sense dozens of cool stares upon him and Solomon the farther they ventured inside the fortress.

It was clear not everyone appreciated seeing thralls in the hallowed halls of the Met. If Evander registered the veiled distaste being projected by his associates, he did not show it.

“Wait, your Grace!” someone shouted behind them.

They stopped and turned.

A petite young woman with dark hair and bright eyes was running to catch up with them, a ream of paper in hand.

“Miss Shaw,” Evander said warily. “What’s wrong?”

Shaw came to a stop and bent over, hands on her knees. “Just—give me a moment!” she wheezed. “Blimey, I’m getting too old to be running around like this!”

“You’re three and twenty, Miss Shaw,” Rufus remarked. “You’re hardly past your prime.”

“Miss Shaw is a forensic mage working the case with us,” Evander explained to Viggo and Solomon while the colour in the mage’s face slowly settled.

Shaw straightened and waved her paperwork with a triumphant expression. “Mr. Brown sent a message. He believes he has identified the powder I discovered at the scene!”

Evander’s expression cleared. “He has?”

“Yes,” Shaw gushed, practically hopping from foot to foot.

Viggo furrowed his brow. Powder?

Shaw was about to say more when she belatedly registered Viggo and Solomon’s presence. She studied them with an astute look far beyond her years.

“By the way, your Grace. Who might these two gentlemen be?”

Evander reluctantly made the introductions.

“Bloody hell!” Shaw’s eyes rounded with awe. “You’re the Ironfist Brute?!”

Her squeal echoed down the corridor, drawing several disapproving frowns.

“What did I say about keeping your voice down when you’re out and about, Miss Shaw?” Rufus said glacially.

“But—” Shaw cocked a thumb at Viggo, her tone dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, “it’s the Ironfist Brute , sir! Like, in the flesh! ”

Rufus groaned. Solomon’s mouth pressed to a thin line, shoulders quaking with barely suppressed mirth.

“I think you have another admirer,” Evander told Viggo in a resigned voice.

“She’s not gonna want an autograph, is she?” Viggo asked uneasily.

Shaw brightened. “You’re offering autographs?”

Evander distracted the forensic mage before she could harass the Brute for his signature and allowed her to tag along as they made their way to the holding cells. Sergeant Griffiths was in charge of the lockup that morning. He observed Viggo and Solomon guardedly while Evander briefly made introductions, before guiding them to Magnus’s prison.

Relief made Viggo dizzy when he saw the Brute sitting comfortably on a bench reading a book.

“Magnus,” he breathed, his voice trembling ever so slightly at the sight of the man he thought he would never see again.

Magnus froze. His head snapped around.

“Viggo?” His face crumpled. He jumped to his feet and dropped the book as he dashed across the cell. “ Viggo! ”

A gentle breeze stirred Viggo’s clothes as Magnus ran into his arms crying. It caught the tome inches from the ground and silently returned it to the bench.

Evander’s finger twitched. The breeze disappeared.

The speed and control the mage demonstrated over his wind magic in that split second sent a shiver down Viggo’s spine as he hugged Magnus. He wasn’t sure whether it was fear or admiration he was experiencing in that moment. One thing he was certain of.

Evander was one of the strongest mages he’d ever crossed paths with.

It was a while before Magnus calmed down enough for Viggo to get any sense out of him. What he went on to tell them sent a chill through Viggo that had little to do with the powerful ice mage in the room and everything to do with the blood curdling tale the Brute recounted.