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Chapter Fifteen

When her one customer had fled, no doubt to tell the rest of Haven that The Rose and Petal was in shambles and its proprietress was sprawled on the floor with Keepers and Iron Crows, Ethan helped Briar to her feet. He turned to the vaguely academic-looking man.

“What the hell are you doing here, Coventry?”

Briar frowned up at him. “You know him?”

“Aye.”

“Aidan Hunt, London Museum of Magic,” the man introduced himself.

Bollocks.

“Lord Coventry,” Ethan elaborated without even a drop of respect for the title. Unsurprisingly.

Aidan stepped over Twyla as though she had ceased to be interesting. “I am in charge of rare antiquities for the museum.”

Bollocks again.

Even if she wanted to run, she could not. Petal was upstairs. And her hip was currently shooting pain down her leg with a vengeance. She would be lucky to remain upright for the remainder of this conversation.

Aidan pulled a piece of parchment from inside his waistcoat and unfolded it. The sketch was detailed, but also artistic in a way she would not have expected from someone who wore such precise spectacles and whose cravat was still pristine when the rest of them were smudged with dirt and sweat. “Have you seen this?” he asked.

She could honestly say she had not. She had not even known what the moon charm looked like until now. It was an egg-shaped moonstone set inside a cage of silver filigree studded with pearls. It was much smaller than she had imagined. It loomed so large that she supposed she had expected it to be the size of an actual egg. Perhaps from a goose. Or a gryphon.

“I have not,” she said. “Is this why you’re here?”

“Yes. This is the moon egg charm. It was originally found in Suffolk. It dates back to the sixteenth century.”

“And it dropped the shields? What else does it do?” That seemed like something she ought to know. The next time Petal went off on a wild tear, she had better leave detailed and copious notes.

“We don’t know,” Aidan admitted. That was surprising. And considerably unhelpful.

Ethan, however, did not look surprised.

“Likely not much, as it’s been stored in salt and iron over the years when not on display,” Aidan continued. “Just to be safe.”

“Then how did it drop the shields?”

“The tracking spell from the museum was triggered when the charm was stolen by one Miss Petal Foxglove.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. My sister would never.” Except when she would, of course.

He frowned. “The tracking spell led me here. And that spell is never wrong. I devised it myself.” He did not sound particularly arrogant, only very sure. Like one of the professors who had seen too many decades in the academies of Hallow.

“If you cast the spell, can you not uncast it? If it is not working as it should be?”

“Apparently not.”

“That is disappointing.”

“Indeed. Can you tell me, Miss Foxglove, why your sister would steal this particular moon charm from the museum? It might help.”

Briar tilted her chin up. “You claim that she stole it, but I am not convinced. My sister has never been to London before, and she has no need for a moon egg.” She crossed her arms. “And if your spell is misfiring, how do you know this is not all your doing? A misunderstanding laid at my sister’s feet as a convenient scapegoat.”

Ethan grunted, a low rumble of amusement. She refused to look in his direction.

“I wish I could help you, Lord Coventry,” she added. “But I’m afraid I don’t know anything.”