He thrust the tip of the sceptre in my direction and, without thinking, I took hold of it. Then my body slammed against an invisible wall and pain flared through me, expelling even the cold from my veins.

‘Don’t let go!’

I groaned. ‘What?’

Winter’s face swam towards mine. ‘Don’t let go!’

My grip tightened as the pain increased. Of course, I thought dully, the ward. The water had carried us from one end of the building to the other and, because Winter hadn’t released his hold on the sceptre, the magic was preventing him from going any further. He was holding one end of the sceptre while I held the other and, as long as we were touching it, the avalanche of water around us couldn’t break through. The downside to all this was the agony of the ward itself. I howled, swallowing more foul water as I did so. It was excruciating. My very atoms were screaming.

‘The water!’ Winter shouted. ‘It’s stopping. Just a few moments longer, Ivy. You can do this.’

No, I didn’t think I could. I gritted my teeth and tried to cling on. It was like being stabbed by a thousand knives all at once, while standing in an arctic tsunami. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it. The water was still sucking me under, dragging at my useless robe. The Order were going to kill me after all. Death by dangerous dressing.

Then Winter’s hand grabbed me. ‘You see? It’s going down. We’re alright, Ivy. We made it.’

He was right: the water level was sinking rapidly, from my shoulders down to my torso. What had been Hokusai-inspired waves were now gentle undulations. I gasped and gulped and finally let go of the sceptre. My body jerked a few feet, still pulled by the under-current, but it wasn’t long before I could stand up.

I reached for the side, my hands clinging to the warm concrete. I tried to heave myself over the edge and back to safety but the damn robe was still in the way. With shaking fingers, I undid enough buttons to push it over my shoulders and down to my waist. I kicked it free of my feet and hauled myself onto the walkway. I rolled onto my back and tried to calm my breathing.

Winter’s hands reached for me, pulling me backwards until my back was against his body. ‘We’re both too cold,’ he muttered. ‘We need to warm up or we’ll freeze before we can get help.’

I pushed back into him, seeking his warmth as he sought mine. Then I sketched out the rune for fire and, right by our feet and without any fuel, flames roared to life, casting heat in our direction. Winter was shivering as much as I was but we clung to each other. Shivering was good. Shivering meant we were still alive. And against all the odds, as well.

Chapter Eleven

I don’t know how long we stayed like that; it was quite some time before I felt Winter stir. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘This was all my fault.’