“I also wanted to let you know that, after careful consideration, Bellamie Ranowen feels a great working might be of use. Assuming, of course, the incants can be persuaded to take. There’s every chance they won’t. But just in case, since time is not on our side, I gave Lady Brislyn the Council’s permission to begin sending the right mages here from the other districts.”

“I see,” said Brice. “And if I dispute that decision?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Then, Brice, you’d be a fool.”

Instead of answering, Brice moved to the front door and held it open. “I’ll warn those at the Hall who need to know that Elvado is about to be overrun with visitors.”

“Thank you,” she said, as she passed him. “If you need me, my lord, you know where I’ll be.”

Returned to the College, so eerily empty of students, Venette found Bellamie Ranowen in her cramped privy workroom and handed her the flower taken from Morgan’s estate.

“Bellamie. What do you make of this?”

Haggard of face, like every mage in the College who toiled to save Dorana, Bellamie inspected the incanted bloom.

“It’s not a natural flower,” she said at last, her voice gravelly with exhaustion. “It’s been transmuted.”

Venette felt her skin crawl. Oh, Morgan. “Are you sure?”

“Quite sure,” said Bellamie, running her fingertips over the flower’s pretty petals. “The incant’s imprint has faded, but it’s quite unmistakable.”

And horribly distinctive. Morgan’s signature was all over it. She’d felt it as she walked into the mansion and saw the vase of fresh flowers on the small table beside the staircase. Felt it again as, seeing herself out, she’d taken one and hidden it inside her tunic.

Bellamie was shaking her head. “Even attempting this kind of transmutation is against the law, of course. Every mage knows that. And I am horrified that someone would so blatantly ignore the restriction.”

“But,” Venette said, and couldn’t help a grim smile.

“Oh, yes, but,” Bellamie breathed, very close to admiration. “The magework is extraordinary.” She looked up. “Where did you get this? Who made it? Do you know?”

“It… came to me in the course of my Council duties,” Venette said, after a moment. “More than that I cannot divulge.”

“Of course. I understand,” said Bellamie, still examining the flower. “Extraordinary. According to every authority on transmutation that I’ve read, this kind of magework is held to be impossible.”

Justice save us all, Morgan. What were you thinking?

“Well, it would appear that every authority is wrong.”

“Yes,” Bellamie said slowly. “Venette, may I keep this?”

There was an odd note in her voice now. A tension in her haggard face. Her fingers had tightened on the flower’s slender stem.

Venette felt a fresh thrill of alarm. “Bellamie?”