“Maybe. For all the fucked-up stuff that they do, this is the first time White Rose has attacked a Keeper. They’ve crossed a line.”

“Assuming it was them.”

Caldera looked sharply at me. “Do you have evidence that it was someone else? Something you’re not telling me?”

“No, I just saw the same things you did. You don’t think it’s a funny coincidence that that strike team showed up right after you called in our location on your communicator? Which stopped working as soon as we needed it?”

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“You said it. White Rose has influence on the Council.”

“Don’t.”

“And the Keepers work for the Council—”

Caldera made a short motion, cutting me off. “I said don’t.”

“Are you seriously going to stick your head in the sand about this?”

“Shut up,” Caldera said. She was leaning forward on the sofa, staring at me, and her eyes were hard. “Get something clear—you are not a Keeper. You do not get to make accusations like that. Talk like that outside this room where other people can hear and you are going to get a fucking bridge dropped on you. You don’t understand Keepers and you don’t know how much shit you can get into doing this. I’ve gone to bat for you before, but I’m not jumping off a cliff just because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

I drew back, slightly shocked. Caldera held my gaze for a few seconds more, then leant back again.

The silence stretched out. I knew it was supposed to be my place to say something, to keep things moving, but I felt jarred, out of place. “You know where the War Rooms are, right?” Caldera said once the pause had gotten long enough to become awkward.

“Yeah.”

“You’ll probably be with Haken.”

“Okay.”

“You got a number for him?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll get you one.”

Caldera took out her phone. I sat uncomfortably as she typed. From outside, I could hear the cars and the motorbikes on the main road, the sounds of their engines echoing through the brick and glass.

| | | | | | | | |

We talked a little longer, but it felt forced and our rapport was gone. When I said that I needed to go, Caldera didn’t argue. I felt my shoulders relax slightly as I came out onto the Hackney street.

As I walked, I puzzled over what had just gone wrong. It wasn’t the first fight I’d had with Caldera but it bothered me in a way the others hadn’t. Mostly it was the unexpectedness. All the previous times that Caldera had been pissed off at me, it had been a direct consequence of something I’d done, and usually something I’d known full well she wouldn’t be happy about. This was the first time we’d had a fight and I didn’t know why.

It occurred to me that Caldera and I might have very different assumptions about loyalty. Amongst Dark mages, betrayal is an occupational hazard, something that comes with the lifestyle. It’s like having one of your co-workers change jobs—you know it’s going to happen sooner or later. Apprentices talking to each other about their masters’ plans, journeymen discussing whether the leader of their cabal is going to sell them out once the job is over . . . That kind of thing isn’t a betrayal of trust, it’s just good sense. It’s not a big deal.