‘I do.’

I sighed. ‘In truth, we might not know if there’s been a third raising, even if we find the necromancer.’

‘It’s death magic,’ the Ipsissimus said. ‘If you can find the bastard in question, spill some of their blood and it remains red in colour, his or her death will be all that’s required. If their blood is tinged with black then it’s too late. If you can’t get close enough to draw blood…’

‘Then the incantation should be performed anyway,’ I finished. The risk would just be too great not to. I didn’t like the odds of coming through this unscathed.

He knitted his hands together. ‘I am glad you see what must be done.’ His expression didn’t change. ‘I need to know if you can do this, Ms Wilde.’

I laughed humourlessly. ‘What’s the choice?’

‘Other than Adeptus Winter? Me.’ He gestured at himself. ‘I’m the only other witch in the vicinity with the capability. The other Third Levels who can do it are making their way here with all due haste, but I don’t think they’ll arrive in time.’ His voice was filled with frustration. ‘We’re in the middle of nowhere.’

He sat down heavily. ‘Raphael Winter has it in him to be Ipsissimus one day and he will be a damn good one. He has both the integrity and the ability. But that day is not today. I’m not convinced that there are any Third Level witches who could manage it either.’

I understood what he wasn’t saying. ‘If you do it and you die in the process, the Order will be thrown into chaos. Things are unstable enough as it is.’

He sighed. ‘Yes. Maybe in a year or two we will have made enough inroads into changing our laws and structures to manage my … abdication. However, I am deeply concerned about what would happen without a strong and ethical successor already in place. After what happened with Adeptus Diall and Price, the next Ipsissimus must be appointed with great caution.’

I nodded. The Ipsissimus wasn’t simply worried about his own skin. I’d already experienced first hand what problems a bunch of ambitious Order witches could create. The wrong person in charge could set the whole place alight – and not in a good way. Those witches needed a strong hand and, despite what had gone on in the past, I did believe the man in front of me was that person.

I pushed back my hair. ‘I can do this,’ I told him. ‘I will do this.’

The Ipsissimus reached over and took my hands. ‘I believe you. It might not come to your sacrifice—’

‘But if it does, I know what to do. Give me the incantation.’

He released his hold on me and reached inside his coat, drawing out a rolled-up scroll. He handed it over without a word; he was sensible enough not to express his thanks. I wasn’t a martyr just yet. I took the scroll from him and stuffed it down my dress. The paper was itchy against my skin but at least the leather corset was enough to manage to conceal the bulge.