“I assume from the expression on your face that Primrose doesn’t often demand you meet her for tea?”

“I wouldn’t use the word often, but she does ask me a couple of times a year. And she always texts like she’s the Queen bestowing a great favour on an unworthy subject.” Mika rolled her eyes, but said firmly, as much to convince herself as it was to convince him, “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Jamie didn’t look convinced. “You don’t think it’s a bit of coincidence that she’s inviting you to tea now? Right after what just happened?”

“It’s possible that the wards couldn’t completely contain such a big surge of power, and it’s possible other witches within a hundred miles or so noticed it,” Mika admitted. “You know how storms hit Wales, but we just get a bit more rain than usual? It’s kind of like that. The power ripples out, fading away the farther it gets. Agatha Jones lives this side of London, which is still pretty far away, but she’s also very old and we get more powerful as we get older, so she could have picked up on the disruption in power and mentioned it to Primrose. Who could have assumed I was the one to blame. But that’s a lot of very woolly maybes, and it’s more likely that this is just an innocent invitation. Either way,” she added, wanting for some reason to take away that worried crease between his eyebrows, “there’s absolutely no way Primrose can possibly know about the kids, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“But I do have to worry about you,” he said, and he sounded so irritated by this that she had to hide a smile. “You’ve barely been out of bed in three days. Are you really going to tea with her tomorrow?”

“It’ll look a lot more suspicious if I don’t,” Mika pointed out. “And it’ll be fine. I’ll pick somewhere far away from this house—”

“Once more, the problem is you, not this house.”

“—and the Broomstick will get me there in no time at all,” she finished merrily. “Primrose won’t ever know where I’ve been these past few weeks.”

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” Jamie demanded.

“Are you actually worried I’m going to keel over and die if I go to tea?” Mika demanded right back. “It’s tea. The nation’s favourite activity! I promise I can survive its lethal trials. Look,” she went on, softening her tone, “I know you’re worried about me because you feel guilty about what Terracotta did and you’re afraid my untimely death will be on your conscience, but I really—”

He stared at her. “Do you actually think that? That I’m concerned because I feel guilty?”