“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” I tell him, but he dismisses my gratitude with a wave of his pipe.

“My dear, beautiful girl, have not I always insisted you are welcome here whenever you need me? That has been the case since your father appointed me one of your tutors all those long, sunlit summers ago. Now that you are elevated to Head Witch you are, of course, doubly entitled to any help you feel I can give you. I am your friend and your servant.”

Not for the first time I have reason to be thankful for my father’s foresight. When he chose Mangan as one of my instructors there were those in the coven who voiced their doubts. I recall Lord Grimes protesting that such a man was unsuitable to give any sort of guidance to a young woman. Mangan is known for his wild ways, for his unorthodox living, for his flamboyant nature. Just as he is an outsider in society, so he is seen as a maverick in the coven, often kicking against our customs and traditions, urging us to reform, to move with the ever-changing times. And yet, he is perhaps one of those among us who truly lives his beliefs. He treats all men as equals, and all women, too. He is not hidebound by etiquette, and this gives him a certain freedom. Did Father consider I would need him to balance my rich diet of tradition and heritage? I wonder.

“I do need your help,” I tell him. “At the inauguration … poor Violet.” At last I can hold back my tears no longer. I have kept my grief and sorrow hidden from everyone, but now I can do so no more. I pluck a handkerchief from my purse and sob into it, unable to speak.

Mangan is more at ease with displays of emotion than my father would have been. He leans close and pats my hand.

“Terrible,” he agrees gently, “quite terrible. But you must not blame yourself.”

“How can I not?”

“I don’t say you must not for your own sake. You must not because as Head Witch you cannot afford yourself the luxury of wallowing in guilt and regret.”

I am taken aback by the harshness of this comment. He sees my reaction and attempts to soften his words.

“My dear girl, you have taken a huge step for one so young. This … honor, this great task, has been given to you without your asking for it. But it is your due. It is both your burden and your blessing. I know you will serve the coven well. And if there is anything I can do to help … Anything! Ask, and if it is within my gift, it is yours.”

I compose myself, putting my handkerchief away.

“I need to know who it was who challenged my right to be Head Witch.”