‘Hexed?’ Belinda tried to frown but her forehead couldn’t wrinkle naturally. Botox? ‘What do you mean?’

‘I had it,’ I said with defiance. ‘I had the rope in my hands and then I felt a shooting pain which only magic could create. One of the other contestants has bespelled me because I’m such strong competition.’ Even to my own ears I sounded ridiculous.

I saw Armstrong open his mouth to speak but Barry sidled over and murmured something in his ear. The director’s expression cleared and he gave me a happy thumbs-up. Yes, this was all part of an act. Just not for the reason he thought.

‘I’ll get my own back on whoever did this,’ I said, with an added snarl. ‘No one hexes Ivy Wilde and gets away with it.’ I applauded myself mentally; I’d make an excellent panto villain.

I followed up my words of dire consequence with a glare, flinging a narrowed-eye look at the other contestants. The truth was that they were all too far away to see what I was doing but it didn’t matter. The camera picked it all up and I managed to soothe the last of the crew’s worried expressions, as well as fulfilling my brief. ‘I’m good to go again,’ I said. ‘I won’t be beaten!’

I threw my arms around in an extra flourish and almost smacked Bellows’ face in the process. His expression hardened. ‘I have to insist—’

‘I’m fine,’ I interrupted. ‘Never felt better.’ I jumped up and down as if to prove it. Immediately I regretted it; I still had three-quarters of the obstacle course to complete.

‘Everyone else has been kept in the position they were when you fell,’ Belinda said.

I nodded, catching sight of an irate-looking Harriet perched precariously on top of a high bar with her hands fluttering in the air. Oops.

‘I’ll blow the whistle and you’ll begin again. If you’re sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

‘Excellent.’

I breathed in deeply and, a moment later, we were off again. Rather than merely strolling, I tried a bit harder this time around. Coming last after my faked collapse might not reflect well on me.

The trouble was that I had a lot of ground to make up and the obstacle course was incredibly hard. It didn’t help that when I reached the top of the bar where Harriet had been forced to stop, the first of the magic waves hit me. No wonder she’d looked so annoyed. Someone, possibly Bellows, had conjured up a host of flying lizards. They were insubstantial and, when one flew directly at my face and its tail grazed my skin, I realised that they more illusion than anything else. It didn’t mean that they weren’t bloody annoying at this height.

I clambered down, making a beeline for the mud pit. At the far end, three other contestants were still struggling to pull themselves out. As I edged forwards, a flaming streak of fire whooshed in my direction. It wasn’t magically induced, however; the fire came from canisters rigged at shoulder height along the side of the pit. Sneaky. What was the betting that they would be hidden from the camera’s view to make it appear as if more spells were being cast? It didn’t really matter. The fire was obviously working to a schedule. Flames of death. Beats of three. Flames of death. Beats of three. Even I could manage to escape this part.