Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 19

Viggo stared blindly at Magnus’s washed-out face, his mind a jumbled mess.

The unconscious Brute was lying in a bed in the Met’s infirmary.

“I can’t believe Ravenwood is an Archmage,” Solomon muttered darkly where he sat opposite Viggo.

Viggo clenched his jaw. If mages were his sworn enemy, then Archmages were the devils he’d promised he would eradicate from all of England. His kind had lost too much to them.

He had lost too much to them.

Memories of the day when he had learned the true meaning of the word terror, when he had been made to watch as his entire family and village were slaughtered before his eyes, scorched his inner vision. The rage and hate that forever simmered in his heart tightened his chest until he could barely breathe.

Concern clouded Solomon’s face as he eyed Viggo’s whitening knuckles where he gripped the armrests of his chair.

“Steady there,” he warned in a low voice. “You shouldn’t go breaking things in this place. I’m sure they’re looking for any old reason to put us behind bars.” He sneaked a look around.

Contrary to Solomon’s assertion, the few staff in the ward were staying well clear of them. It was Evander who had instructed they be given some privacy after Magnus had been treated by one of the Met’s healers. The expression on the Ice Mage’s face when he and Rufus had left a short while ago rose before Viggo’s eyes.

Resignation. A smidgen of dread.

There had even been defiance in Evander’s ice-blue gaze.

What had been lacking was remorse.

Evander did not appear to regret inadvertently revealing his status as an Archmage. That he had disclosed such a staggering secret to save Magnus’s life was the only reason Viggo hadn’t gone for his throat in that cell.

And what would I have done? Throttle him to death?!

The tension knotting his stomach and groin told him killing the mage would have been the last thing on his mind had he gotten his hands on him.

Evander Ravenwood was a much bigger threat to his sanity than he had originally anticipated. Because the thoughts and feelings he was entertaining about the man were as far removed from loathing as the sun was from the moon.

There were other facts about Evander that continued to puzzle him.

His status as a Duke meant he had scarce need for a profession. From what Viggo recalled hearing about his estates and business ventures, the man’s wealth likely surpassed that of the combined riches of half the nobles in the capital.

Yet, Evander had chosen to be a Special Arcane Investigator. Not only that, he had peacefully mediated many a dispute between the police and thralls since he had taken up that position. In fact, bar the incident with Magnus, Viggo could not recall a single instance where the mage had harmed a thrall.

There was only one thing he wished to ask Evander.

Why was he working for the Met?

Frustration gnawed at Viggo’s insides.

Maybe if I know the answer to that question, I might understand why I feel this way about him.

It dawned on Viggo that he was blatantly disregarding his own steadfast resolve that morning to stay away from the mage. Judging from Solomon’s troubled expression, he’d caught on to that fact and didn’t like it one bit.

“We should take Magnus and leave as soon as he wakes up.”

“They may not let him go.” Viggo rubbed the back of his neck and sighed at Solomon’s mutinous expression. “Look, it’s not as if we have a choice in the matter. Magnus’s involvement in the case Evander and Rufus are investigating means we can’t just walk away from this.” He lowered his brows. “Besides, I want to catch the bastards who did this to Magnus. And I know you do too.”

Solomon’s mouth flattened to a thin line.

“Promise you won’t get involved with him,” he said brusquely.

Viggo startled. “What?”

“I see the way you look at him.” He pinned Viggo with an accusing gaze. “Promise me you won’t fuck the mage, Viggo. It will lead to no end of trouble if you do.”

Motion caught Viggo’s eye before he could come up with a suitable denial.

Shaw had entered the infirmary. She exchanged brief words with the healer who had taken care of Magnus before approaching the bed.

“Commander Winterbourne requests your presence,” she told Viggo. “If you could please follow me.”

Viggo tensed. Reginald Winterbourne was the commander of the Arcane Division and Evander’s chief. Judging from Shaw’s nervous expression, it seemed Evander’s discussion with his superior was not progressing as he’d wanted it to.

He got up and fell in step behind the mage as she started across the room.

Solomon rose from his seat to accompany him.

Viggo paused. “Stay with Magnus. He’ll be scared if he wakes up in here on his own.”

Solomon hesitated before nodding and slowly sitting down.

Viggo caught Shaw’s curious glance as they exited the infirmary.

“What?”

“Are you upset with him?” The forensic mage scratched her cheek. “His Grace, I mean?”

“Why would I be upset with him?”

“You hate mages,” Shaw said bluntly. “And he’s the pinnacle of magehood.”

Viggo grimaced. “Is that even a word?”

Shaw sniffed. “I’m making it so.”

Viggo bit back an involuntary smile. He couldn’t help but like the spunky mage.

They passed a group of officers. If Shaw noted the wary looks Viggo earned, she showed no sign of it. Low murmurs followed them as they navigated the corridors of the Arcane Division, Viggo’s skin prickling at scores of vigilant stares.

It seemed news of the incident in the lockup had spread throughout the Met.

“Did you know?” Viggo said after a moment. “That he was an Archmage?”

Shaw pursed her lips. “None of us knew.” Her brow wrinkled. “Except maybe Inspector Grayson. He didn’t seem that shocked by what happened in that cell.”

Viggo recalled Rufus’s warning to Evander. He frowned.

He knew alright.

“How likely is it that the Met will keep his secret?” he grunted.

Shaw seemed as surprised by the question as he was for uttering it.

“Wait. Are you worried about his Grace?”

“It’s our fault he had to reveal his status as an Archmage,” Viggo said awkwardly.

Shaw watched him for a moment before smiling. “You truly are a gentleman, Mr. Stonewall.”

“Please, call me Viggo.” He made a face. “Also, I don’t know what to make of that statement. I feel I should be insulted rather than flattered.”

Shaw laughed. “I wouldn’t worry too much about his Grace. He has a way of…getting himself out of the most ridiculous situations with nary a hair harmed on his pretty head.” Her smile faded. She sighed. “As for your question, do bears shit in the woods?”

Viggo blinked. “Pardon?”

Shaw wrinkled her nose. “What I mean is, there ain’t a bigger bunch of gossipmongers than Met officers. So, no. I’m afraid Duke Ravenwood’s secret will be common knowledge in all of London come evening.”

Viggo’s heart sank at that.

Time away from Evander had made him realise one thing. There had to be a good reason for him not to have revealed his status as an Archmage.

After all, that title would have earned him even greater wealth and power than he already has. So why keep it a secret?

Winterbourne’s office was on the fifth floor, dead bang in the middle of the administrative offices of the Arcane Division. The location of the commander’s office made it clear he was a man who liked to be in the heat of the action.

Raised voices reached them as they crossed an open space crowded with dozens of desks where men and women sat pretending not to be listening to the vociferous row taking place behind the double doors at the far end.

Shaw stopped and looked at the man sitting at the table closest to Winterbourne’s office.

“Should we give them a moment?”

Winterbourne’s secretary took on the air of someone who’d been asked if he wanted to juggle with knives.

Shaw rolled her eyes and knocked politely. The sound was lost in the noise of the altercation. She squared her shoulders and opened the door just as Evander growled,

“—and you can take that threat and shove it where the sun does not shine, sir !”