Chapter 4Henry, for the fifth time, said, “If there’s anything at all out of the ordinary, even if you think it’s the smallest possible instance, I’d like to know,” and tried not to fidget. He’d learned to be still when he had to; he’d once upon a time liked to be in motion. And the chair he was occupying wasn’t tall enough for his legs.
“Captain Tourmaline.” Christine Honey-Smythe folded her pale ungloved hands neatly together, on the other side of the desk. She’d traded her Magicians’ Corps lieutenant’s commission for the Home Office job, and battlefield trousers and mud for a prim grey day dress. Once he’d been promoted, she’d always said his name the exact same way: that subtle emphasis on his rank and formality, the implication that he needed the reminder. “We simply don’t have anyth
