‘You know,’ I said, snuggling deeper into the duvet, ‘you’re not going to win friends and influence people with that kind of attitude.’

‘Good evening. You have reached the esteemed laboratory of I-don’t-give-a-shit. How may we not help you?’

I grinned. Iqbal was a man after my own heart. ‘Hi, honey.’

‘I’m busy, Ivy. We can’t all loll around, some of us have work to do.’

‘I work.’

‘Sitting on your arse all day long and occasionally turning a steering wheel is not work.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘And reading all day is?’

‘You try it,’ he snarked.

Tomes and treatises on the history of the British Isles? No thanks. ‘How is that PhD coming along?’ I asked. Iqbal has been studying for it since I first met him. I keep waiting for someone to tell him that he’ll lose his funding if he doesn’t get a move on and actually write something, but he seems to keep managing to slide by. Although by the last count, his grandmother has died seven times. The university is generous with its compassionate leave.

‘I wrote two hundred words today,’ he said, with a hint of pride.

‘Great!’

‘I deleted three hundred and sixty-two.’

‘Well,’ I demurred, ‘editing is important. What’s the actual total?’

‘Eighteen.’

‘Eighteen thousand? That’s brilliant.’

There was a pause. ‘No. Just eighteen.’

Ah. ‘It could be worse.’

‘Could it?’ His tone was morose. ‘“The effect of magic on the substantive growth and expansion of the British Empire by Iqbal L. Sharif”. That’s all I’ve got. And I’m including my initial in the word count. I’m also thinking that I should delete “substantive”.’

‘You realise you’re my hero, right?’

He snorted. ‘What do you want, Ivy? You can’t be calling up just to check on my lack of progress.’

I twiddled a loose blonde curl. ‘Why not? That’s what friends do. I’m being supportive.’

‘Get to the point.’

Fair enough. ‘I’ve been subjected to a rather complicated binding spell,’ I said, outlining the details for him.

‘Wow. The Order really hate you, huh?’

‘Actually, the spell on its own is nothing to do with me. As far as I can work out, it’s more binding than usual because they didn’t trust their own guy not to dump me when he got fed up.’

There was a pause. ‘Who’s their guy?’

‘Adeptus Exemptus Winter.’

Iqbal let out a low whistle. ‘Damn, girl.’

‘You know him?’

‘I know of him. Everyone knows of him. How come you don’t?’

‘Because I don’t pay attention to what the Order does. You know that, Iqbal.’

‘I know you said that. I just thought…’

‘What? That I say I don’t care about them but really I stalk them at every opportunity?’

‘Well, yeah.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m a pretty uncomplicated person. What you see is what you get.’ Secrets take time and energy. Most of the time, at least. There was one glaring exception to that rule but I’d put it behind me long ago. ‘Anyway, what I want to know is—’