Regardless of her reluctance, the crowd seemed to appreciate her efforts. They were certainly whooping and cheering loudly enough. The more they yelled, the more confident Ivy grew with both her singing and her dancing, to the point where she replaced the microphone back on its stand and abandoned her sultry swaying for more energetic movements. What no one seemed to have noticed was that she also seemed to be inching closer and closer to the edge of the stage. It wasn’t a long drop – probably less than a metre – but she’d no doubt had one or two drinks already and she could fall and hurt herself. That was what he told himself when he pushed his way through the crowd to get closer to her.

‘Oi!’ A fat man holding the dregs of a pint of beer glared at him. Winter glanced in the man’s direction, which was enough to make him immediately subside. Winter nodded, satisfied.

He’d just reached the front of the stage when Ivy whipped round with alarming speed, as if attempting a pirouette. Her sparkling eyes fixed on him and widened. Unfortunately, her surprise was also her undoing: her feet kept moving but her body didn’t follow and, almost in slow motion, she began to topple forward. Winter didn’t pause. He braced himself, held out his arms and caught her as she fell.

‘Oooomph!’ Ivy coiled her arms round his neck and beamed up at him. She smelled of honey and sunshine and just the tiniest smidge of ancient magic. He breathed in deeply. ‘My hero!’ she burbled.

Winter stared down at her, his expression inscrutable. ‘Are you trying to maim yourself?’ he inquired.

Her smile widened. ‘I know, right? This is why I hate doing karaoke. It’s far too energetic.’

‘Ivy! Are you alright?’ Her dark-haired friend appeared, concern on his face.

Ivy extricated herself from Winter. ‘Apart from the horror of that song, Iqbal, I’m good.’ She reached up and patted Winter’s chest. ‘My partner saved me.’

Winter’s jaw clenched. ‘We’re not partners any more.’

For a moment a shadow crossed Ivy’s face then she brightened again. ‘You should count yourself lucky,’ she grinned. ‘I’m far too much like hard work.’

It was on the tip of Winter’s tongue to tell her that she should know by now that he liked hard work. But someone else was bearing down on them, throwing shot glasses in their direction.

‘Tequila!’ Ivy smacked her lips. ‘I really shouldn’t.’ She took one anyway and downed it.

Iqbal grabbed another glass and thrust it at Winter. ‘Adeptus Exemptus, I think you deserve one for that catch.’

Under any other circumstances Winter would have refused but he knew that was what Iqbal was expected, so he took the glass and tipped it back, wincing slightly as the fiery liquid burned down his throat.

‘Good man!’ Iqbal clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Let’s get another round!’ He headed off to the bar.

‘Come on.’ Ivy tugged Winter’s elbow. ‘We’ve got a table in the corner.’

He allowed himself to be led through the crowd. Ivy plonked herself down on one of the chairs with a happy sigh. Winter debated for a moment then joined her. ‘Who’s your friend?’ he asked, his tone harsher than he’d intended. ‘You didn’t introduce us earlier when he gave you the ossombe root.’

‘Huh?’ Ivy looked blank for a moment then realised who he was talking about. ‘Oh, you mean Iqbal. We go way back.’ She waved her hands around. ‘He’s a good guy. He just likes karaoke too much.’ Her eyes fixed on him. ‘What’s going on back at the Order?’

‘Do you really want to know?’

She pursed her lips. ‘I risked life and limb, Winter. I think I deserve to know.’

‘Rafe,’ he found himself saying. ‘You should call me Rafe.’

A softer smile curved round Ivy’s mouth but before she could say anything Iqbal reappeared with another tray of shots. He placed it on the table. ‘I got a selection!’ he yelled over the music. ‘I wasn’t sure what you’d all like.’

Ivy beamed her approval and chose a glass at random. Winter watched as she took a delicate sniff then shrugged. ‘Bottoms up.’

Winter picked up one of the little glasses without looking at it. He kept his eyes on Ivy, clinking his glass against hers before he drank.

Iqbal cleared his throat. ‘So, Adeptus,’ he said. ‘What’s going on back at the Order now that the truth has been revealed?’

‘I just asked that!’ Ivy said. ‘Tell us!’

Winter shrugged. The news would be in the morning papers so there wasn’t any point in staying quiet. ‘The Ipsissimus is putting in an immediate review of all promotional procedures. Everyone who’s achieved a position beyond First Level is going to be scrutinised. It’ll take months but it’ll be worth it.’

‘What about Bell End and Alice?’ Ivy asked. A curl had fallen across her forehead and Winter itched to brush it away. He put his hands under table instead.

‘Who?’

‘Uh, Bellham. Matthew Bellham and Alice Fairclough. What’s happened to them?’

‘They’ve been released but they’re on probation.’ Ivy scowled. ‘They were acting under orders.’

She snorted indelicately. ‘That’s no defence.’ Privately, Winter agreed.

Ivy got clumsily up to her feet. Winter automatically stood too but she merely gave him a confused look. ‘I’m off to the ladies’ room,’ she declared. ‘I need a pee. Are you coming too?’

‘I was being a gentleman,’ he muttered. She didn’t hear him – she was already bustling through the crowd.

Winter sat down and picked up another glass without thinking. Iqbal smiled. ‘To the Order!’

‘To the Order.’ Winter gulped it down. He glanced behind him; there was no longer any sign of Ivy.

Iqbal leant across the table. ‘What are your intentions?’

Winter blinked back at him. ‘Excuse me?’

‘With Ivy,’ Iqbal said, a sudden sharp focus in his dark eyes. ‘She likes you a lot, you know, but she’s more vulnerable than she lets on.’

Winter’s skin was beginning to itch. ‘I like her too. She’s an extraordinarily talented witch. It’s a real shame she’s not in the Order.’

Iqbal watched him. ‘That wasn’t what I meant.’

Winter looked at him. Ivy hadn’t answered his question properly before. ‘Are you and her…’ he began.

‘No. But she’s a good friend.’ Iqbal turned as someone shouted his name from the other side of the room. ‘I should go. It was nice to meet you again, Adeptus Exemptus Winter. Be nice to Ivy.’ He walked off, just as the woman in question returned. Winter saw him lean his head down towards her ear and murmur something. Ivy’s cheeks turned an adorable shade of pink and Winter frowned.

She pushed her way back through the crowd to the table. ‘I’ve done my duty and sung my songs,’ she said. ‘And now I want to go home and sleep for three days.’ Her eyes twinkled. ‘I think I deserve it.’

‘I think you do,’ he returned. ‘I’ll walk you out.’

It seemed far colder outside than it was when he’d arrived. The cool air hit him almost immediately and he realised that drinking on an empty stomach had affected him considerably. He wasn’t the only one: Ivy swayed alarmingly and banged into him. He just managed to shoot out his arms and hold her upright. ‘Be careful,’ he said gruffly. ‘You’re drunk.’

Ivy gave a peal of laughter. ‘So are you!’ She tugged at the spot on her arm where the binding had been placed. ‘We made a good team, you know. I’m almost sorry it’s all over.’

He folded his arms. ‘Almost?’

She didn’t hear him. ‘You’re a good guy, Adeptus Exemptus Raphael Winter.’ She peered at him. ‘And you really do have the most amazing blue eyes. They’re the colour of the Mediterranean on a sunny day.’ She leant in closer. ‘Or lapis lazuli.’ She pushed herself up on her tiptoes to get an even closer look. ‘You know, in Italy and Spain Prince Charming is known as the Blue Prince.’