Arcane Entanglement (The Mage and His Brute #1)

Chapter 20

“Evander,” Rufus groaned.

“What?” Evander snapped.

His nails bit into his palms as he glared at the lean, wiry man seated behind the impressive oak desk dominating the office.

Reginald Winterbourne watched him with a flinty expression. The older man’s face was lined with the marks of years of service, the thin white scar running along his left jaw a memento from a fight in his younger days. One of the most formidable magical duellists of his generation, Winterbourne hailed from a long line of law enforcement officers. He joined the Met after graduating with distinction from the Royal Institute for the Arcane and rose rapidly through the ranks of the force, his involvement in several high-profile cases catapulting him to fame.

But it was his legendary battle with the rogue necromancer behind the “Crimson Fog Murders” of 1842 that sent him on a fast-track to a leadership role in the Met, making him the youngest commander to ever grace its halls.

Though a fair and demanding leader with an unwavering commitment to justice, Winterbourne was a traditionalist who favoured tried and tested methods for crime investigation and law enforcement. This often put him at odds with progressive officers like Evander and Rufus, who favoured a more experimental approach to their line of work. It also meant Winterbourne could be terribly intransigent when it came to breaking protocol.

Like right now.

Frustration churned Evander’s stomach as he studied the man he’d long considered his mentor.

“It is not a threat, Ravenwood,” Winterbourne said in a glacial tone. “It’s a hard, cold fact. Magnus Graveoak will be remanded to Coldfield Baths as soon as I sign the edict. He will await trial there for his crimes?—”

“Like hell he will!” someone snarled.

Evander’s head whipped around.

Viggo stood framed in the doorway, his hands curled into fists and his expression thunderous.

Shaw peered sheepishly around his powerful frame.

“I brought Mr. Stonewall as instructed, sir.”

“Thank you, Miss Shaw.” Winterbourne ignored Viggo’s scowl and indicated the chair next to Evander. “Take a seat, Mr. Stonewall.”

For a moment, Evander thought Viggo would refuse the order.

A muscle twitched in the Brute’s cheek as he met Evander’s gaze.

Evander braced himself for the accusation and loathing he expected to read in his eyes. But all he saw was annoyance towards Winterbourne. Surprise and something that felt fleetingly like hope quickened Evander’s pulse.

Does he not hate me?

Viggo crossed the floor and sat beside him, the chair creaking under his weight as he settled into it. Though they were separated by a couple of feet, Evander could feel the heat radiating off his body. It sent a shiver down his spine that had little to do with their current precarious situation.

Winterbourne steepled his hands under his chin and observed Viggo broodingly, blissfully unaware of the errant turn Evander’s thoughts had just taken.

“I’ll get straight to the point, Mr. Stonewall. Your friend committed a serious felony. Not only did he attack a noble, he laid his hands on an officer of the Met. As such?—”

“And like I’ve said a dozen times already Commander Winterbourne, Magnus was not in control of his faculties!” Evander interrupted harshly, his focus squarely on the situation at hand once more. “Rufus witnessed what happened in that cell. And you only need ask Mrs. Scarborough about the cursed gem she destroyed.”

Winterbourne lowered his brows. “Unfortunately, Mrs. Scarborough is not in a position to talk right now. The shock of witnessing—or rather shall I say, experiencing the powers of an Archmage appears to have overwhelmed her. I sent her home.”

Guilt tightened Evander’s throat. “Is Philippa alright?”

Winterbourne watched him for a moment before sighing heavily, the fight visibly draining out of him. “She will be.” He sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hell and damnation, Ravenwood.” His tone softened as he gazed at him. “Do you even realise what you’ve done? What she will say when she hears of this? You know I have no choice but to inform her.”

Viggo shot a puzzled glance at Evander.

A sour taste filled Evander’s mouth at Winterbourne’s pitying look.

He’d been doing his best to ignore the full ramifications of his actions in the cell that morning. After all, there were more pressing matters at hand. Like stopping an innocent man from going to prison and finding out the identity of the mage who’d killed Alastair Millbrook and orchestrated the attack on his carriage.

And let’s not forget the vial I discovered in the alley.

“You may lose those blue threads in your aiguillette,” Winterbourne said tiredly. “Her Majesty would be well within her rights to strip you of your role as a Royal Arcane Liaison after the trick you pulled this morning. Heavens man, she may even demand you quit being a Special Arcane Investigator and leave the Met!”

Rufus cursed under his breath. Viggo froze.

Someone sucked in air in the deadly hush.

They all looked towards the door.

Shaw stood there, eyes bulging and mouth round behind the fingers she was pressing to her lips.

“Miss Shaw, what are you still doing here?” Winterbourne said thinly.

“Being a fly on the wall, sir,” Shaw confessed unashamedly.

“Go be a fly on someone else’s wall.”

“I promise I’ll be as quiet as a mouse in a church,” Shaw protested. “You won’t even notice?—”

“Now, Miss Shaw!” Winterbourne snapped.

The mage’s shoulders slumped. She turned and shuffled out of the room. The door closed quietly behind her.

“You work for the Queen?”

Blood pounded inside Evander’s veins as he met Viggo’s accusing stare.

Dammit. I didn’t want him to find out this way!

“Not as such,” Evander admitted reluctantly.

Viggo’s eyes flitted to his uniform. “So, those blue threads don’t represent the Royal Family?”

Evander shifted awkwardly in his chair. “They do.”

“Then, that makes you her loyal dog, does it not?”

Viggo’s vicious words stabbed through Evander, leaving him breathless in the face of the revulsion he could no longer hide. The revulsion that was turning his eyes to dark gems full of loathing.

Evander could hardly blame the Brute. After all, it had been within the royal family’s powers to stop the War of Subjugation and its cruel aftermath had they so desired. Still, he could not stop the painful feeling choking his chest.

He’d wanted Viggo to trust him.

Rufus shot to his feet.

“How dare you?!” he hissed at Viggo. “You know nothing of Evander’s circumstances!”

“That statement could earn you time behind bars, Stonewall,” Winterbourne warned. “Be grateful I’m willing to keep it off the record.”

Evander paid no heed to his friend and his commander.

“I do not deny that my allegiance lies with Her Majesty Queen Victoria,” he told Viggo quietly. His nails carved grooves into his palms as he struggled to maintain a steady voice, the tumultuous emotions he’d kept on a tight leash for the last six years threatening to burst from behind the dam where he kept them. “But I am nobody’s dog.” He straightened, his face so stiff his jaw hurt. “I may live in a gilded cage of Her Majesty’s making, but that is only because I choose to let her do so. She knows there is a line I will never cross, whatever she may order me to do.”

Viggo curled a lip. “And that line is?”

Rufus scowled and took a step forward. “This son of a?—!”

“Inspector Grayson!” Winterbourne snapped.

Rufus froze in his tracks, his knuckles white at his sides.

The commander watched Evander and Viggo with a hooded gaze.

Viggo’s eyes bore cruelly into Evander.

“Well, mage?” he scoffed. “What is the precious line you told your Queen you would never cross?”

Evander took a shuddering breath and repeated the words he had told the woman who held his fate in her hands on the night he had informed her of his intentions to become a Special Arcane Investigator.

“There will not be another War of Subjugation. Not while I live and breathe.”

Viggo recoiled as if physically struck, the shock flaring across his face draining the blood from his complexion.

Evander turned to Winterbourne, surprised his hands weren’t trembling. His body felt hot and tight, as if it wanted to burst out of his skin.

“If you imprison Magnus Graveoak, the tensions between thralls and magic users will rise to fever pitch,” he said in a hard voice. “All this city needs is one more conflict and the House of Lords will pounce on the opportunity to press the government and Her Majesty to remove the Arcane Division from the jurisdiction of the Met and place it under their control.”

Rufus drew a sharp breath. Winterbourne went still.

“How did you—?” the commander started stiffly.

“I’m not a moron, sir,” Evander snapped. “I don’t attend all those balls and social functions for nothing. Lord Ashbrooke confirmed the motion is garnering favour in Parliament a few nights ago.” He blew out a sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Of course, the House of Commons will fight it, but if the House of Lords gets Her Majesty on their side, it might as well be a done deal.”

Winterbourne cursed colourfully.

“What does that mean?” Viggo said tensely. “What does it mean if the Arcane Division is no longer under the authority of the Met?”

Evander pursed his lips at his anxious stare.

Well, at least he’s no longer looking at me like I’m a piece of rotting excrement under his boot.

“It means the Arcane Division will become a tool nobles will wield to rule over thralls. Whatever rights the magicless have fought for and won over the last decades will be overturned. You will become what you were before. Cattle to be used and abused at the will of those who possess magic.”

Evander knew he was being needlessly cruel. The horror widening Viggo’s eyes and the dread visibly tightening his body told him so. But he couldn’t help it.

He wanted Viggo to know why he’d decided to join the Met despite being an Archmage. More than that, he wanted to hurt Viggo for not trusting him.

That realisation stopped Evander short and brought a lump to his throat.

What am I doing right now? He doesn’t deserve this.

“Alright.”

Evander’s distracted gaze shifted to Winterbourne.

The commander was looking at him with a resigned expression. “I will release Magnus Graveoak.” His tone hardened. “But you and Mr. Stonewall will bear full responsibility for him and his actions until this case is closed.”

Relief made Evander giddy.

Viggo swallowed and closed his eyes briefly. “Thank you,” he mumbled to Winterbourne after a short silence. He hesitated before turning to Evander. “And I apologise, your Grace. I should not have said those things to you.” A trace of bitterness underscored his voice. “I may hate who you are and what you stand for. But you saved Magnus not just once, but twice. And for that, I will forever be grateful to you.”