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I had no answer to this, because the possibility hadn’t occurred to me. We hadn’t yet opened the shelter for the day, and Gabriel had accompanied Élise so that we could all breakfast together. Despite her admonishing him for lingering, I could see that his presence fortified her.

He shook his head slightly, looking even more dubious than I felt. “I wouldn’t advise that, my love,” he said. “The referendum was a strong win for the ‘yes’ side. And I can tell you that city council is very close to passing the bylaw—it could happen as soon as next week. When it comes to the police, I advise you to tread very, very carefully.”

I put down my forkful of scrambled egg, no longer hungry. Given the tumult of my present situation, I’d paid little heed to the referendum, which had asked the city’s inhabitants if we wished to approve sweeping new powers for the police to investigate the crimes of magicians, including by searching businesses and homes suspected of Artefact trafficking without warning and with the aid of magic, which would certainly reveal at least the presence of Havelock’s wards, and likely his workshop too. It had been introduced in response to the disorder wrought by magicians, particularly since the arrival of Valérie and her apprentices.

“That bylaw isn’t even legal,” Élise said, spearing a pancake. “The courts will overturn it, referendum or no. Allowing the police to raid any business they feel like, just because they catch a whiff of magic—it’s too much power, and it will be abused, mark my words. I can’t believe we’re even considering it.”

“There’s some debate about what the courts will think,” Gabriel said. “Either way, the idea is popular. People want something to be done to stop these magicians from running amok. Yes, the legislation may be overturned eventually, but in the interim, the shelter will be at risk.”

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “You’re right. I must go, mustn’t I? But surely Laurent can’t believe we’re trafficking Artefacts, or mixed up with Havelock in any way, otherwise he wouldn’t ask me to step out with him.”

“I think that’s precisely what he would do—it’s what I’d do, if I were him,” Gabriel said. Given his affability, many assumed there was an innocence to Gabriel that did not exist. He had a core of pure cunning that one only saw when his guard was down, as it was now. “To see if you’ll come to trust him enough to let the truth slip out. The police are certain Renard is in the city now—and make no mistake, they’re determined to catch him, dangerous as that may prove.”

Élise pressed my hand, and we lapsed into a gloomy silence until Ambulance’s aggressive purring became too great to ignore, and I went to his cage to rub his head. It was his latest tactic for soliciting affection, as he’d learned at last that hysterical yowls were more likely to earn him a scolding. Only a few of our original cats remained, mostly the more difficult cases, but we’d been regularly resupplied by Pierre and by our volunteers, who had also grown in number and had been able to expand their search area to the outskirts of the city. At present, we had eighteen cats on offer between both locations, though I wouldn’t have been surprised if half were snapped up by closing.

A smile pulled at my mouth. Under different circumstances, I would have been beside myself with glee—we had rescued and found good homes for more cats in a month than we had in the last two years. Our donations had more than tripled, money we’d used to have several of the most ambitious ferals at the largest cat colony neutered. And yet, if Les Amis des Chats was shut down, all of our hard-won gains would be erased.

I noticed that Banshee was napping in the oven yet again, and I shooed her out, ignoring her voiceless protests—since learning of the oven’s enchantment, I had been trying to dissuade the cat from her new favourite bed. What if the thing decided to make pastry when she was inside?

I felt a strange urge to go and hide in the basement with Havelock, although this should have seemed the furthest thing from a place of refuge. Since I had kissed him, we had barely spoken, nor had he seemed to have any interest in addressing the matter. I hadn’t the slightest idea what was going through his mind in the wake of Valérie’s attack. But what else could I expect from Havelock Renard?

Laurent and I were to meet at a park beside Lachine Canal, where the market was held. Dozens of wooden stands like tiny chalets had been erected around the central fountain, which was frozen solid, icicles draped from the tiers like the fronds of a frozen willow. I shivered and drew my scarf tighter around my neck—the wind was sharper than I’d felt all winter, the stars cold and crystalline. A bonfire had been lit, and I went towards it gratefully, removing my gloves so that I could warm my hands.

I didn’t notice Laurent at first—he stood in the line for mulled wine, his red hair muted by the darkness, the bonfire picking out only a few strands of gold. When I recognized him, he was already coming towards me, a warm smile on his face, holding two paper cups.

I smiled back. I had been nervous about seeing Laurent, but nothing in his expression suggested he had changed his opinion of me, and I was reminded of how much I’d always liked him. It wasn’t just that I was determined to like everyone, as Élise was often complaining; Laurent, I was certain, had a fundamental goodness in him. He was the sort of person who wanted to do the right thing.

“Good evening,” he said, handing me one of the cups. His face was flushed from the cold, and in his well-tailored coat of dark wool, he looked startlingly handsome. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting—the line.”

“That’s all right,” I said, a little nervously, because a part of me was now occupied with pondering Élise’s suggestion. Could I trust Laurent? Not with everything that had happened, of course—he couldn’t know that Havelock was my landlord. But what if I told him that Valérie was convinced that we were hiding some Artefact we’d never seen before? It was certainly the truth, or at least a part of it. Would Laurent—would the police—protect us?

Laurent took a sip of his mulled wine and winced. “I always forget that I find these too sweet,” he said. “Yet every time I visit the market, I can’t stop myself from ordering one. Why don’t I learn?”

“Perhaps you simply enjoy tormenting yourself,” I said. “Speaking of which, I have some calamitous news.”

Laurent raised his brows, but at the sight of my expression, a smile tugged at his mouth. We had wandered onto one of the bridges that spanned the canal, below which several children were skating. “Shall I hold on to something?” he said.

“You’d better.” I allowed a pregnant pause to elapse. “Lynx has been adopted.”

“No!” he said, looking genuinely dismayed. He set his drink on the bridge’s railing and leaned over it on his forearms. “That’s unfortunate. My fault, of course—I should have made up my mind sooner. I confess I wasn’t so set against adopting her as I implied.”

“I know you weren’t,” I said, knocking my shoulder against his. “You expressed your affection by cruelly spurning her, just as she expresses hers by attacking whatever appendage is nearest. You would have made a perfect pair.”

Laurent laughed, but then a shadow seemed to fall across his face, and he looked back at the frozen water.

“I have another potential suitor for you,” I said. “She’s not half as wild as Lynx, but the family who adopted her not one week ago returned her yesterday, claiming she’d deconstructed their favourite rug.”

Laurent nodded. “I’m not daunted,” he said. “My apartment has no carpeting at all, you see.”

“You’ll need to move fast. No dawdling this time. I doubt it will be long before Mairesse is spoken for.”

Laurent turned to face me, still leaning one elbow upon the railing, so that we were much closer in height. “Yes, your shelter has become quite popular.”

His tone was casual, but with an undercurrent that made me pause, and which disrupted our easy banter. “You’ve heard the rumours, I’m sure,” I said, trying to summon up a little of Élise’s airy guile. “The Daily Gazette will print anything.”

Laurent looked thoughtful. His gaze drifted, and he appeared to watch the snow fort some university students were constructing in the park on the other side of the bridge. I turned to gaze at it too, and was about to remark on its size when he said, “You could tell me, Agnes.”

His tone was so casual that I at first assumed it was some continuation of our banter. “Could I?” I said teasingly. “Tell you what, precisely?”