My pulse is racing. I have never heard of anyone challenging a nominee during an inauguration. The asking for a challenger to declare him- or herself is a tradition, a formality. I doubt anyone present has ever heard of such a thing actually being done. Who is it? Who would seek to shame me like this?

“I demand to know the identity of my challenger!”

The figure in purple shakes his head. “I am not obliged to give it. My anonymity is protected, it is not forfeit simply because I challenge your suitability for the position of Head Witch. Am I not correct, Master of the Chalice?”

I try to imagine what his voice would be like without the obscuring mask. Is it familiar? Do I know this man? The coven is so large, even I do not know everyone in it, and yet it could be someone I know well. There is no way to tell.

“It is the challenger’s right to conceal his identity if he so wishes,” confirms the Master of the Chalice, his words a little breathless now.

“Coward!” comes the cry from the back of the room. “To hide behind a mask and yet publicly doubt the nominee in such a way is cowardice. He should have the courage to reveal himself!”

A murmur of agreement rolls around the room, but the witch merely gives a little bow.

“Forgive me, brother witch,” he says, “I prefer to challenge anonymously. I believe it will be fairer and more effective.”

Why? Why would that be the case? I must know who he is.

“You must give the reason for your challenge,” the Master of the Chalice tells him.

“Let us hear it!” a witch in a sage-green robe demands. I know her slender shape and erect bearing so well I am certain it is Druscilla. “Lady Lilith is a fine and rightful candidate. What possible challenge can be made?”

There are shouts of “Aye!” and “Shame!” and “Speak out!”

The challenger holds up his hands. “The nominee’s brother, the seventh duke of Radnor, is a man controlled by his desire for opium.”

“What of it?” shouts an agitated witch in the back row. “She is not responsible for the shortcomings of her brother.”

“Responsible, no. But where one family member has a significant weakness of will, is it not fair to suppose another might be similarly afflicted?”

Druscilla speaks up again. “A fondness for the milk of the poppy is not an inherited condition. The nominee’s father, Spirits keep him, showed no signs of any such predilection.”