Page 38 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

Hulda blinked. “I’m sorry, what?”

His lip pinched to one side. “Surely you’re not forgetting already.”

Forgetting—ah, yes, it was coming back to her. It really wasn’t fair, having forgetfulness as a side effect of augury, when she couldn’t control the use of her power. In truth, the fugue was as wily as the magic itself, coming and going as it pleased. Though she supposed that had been a particularly intense vision—

She paused. “How did you know—?”

He shrugged. “You get this sort of vacant look on your face when it happens.”

She wondered what sort of vacancy took over her features and how strange it might appear. “I saw us running. Through Boston.”

“Running?” he repeated, stepping back, pulling the rest of his warmth with him. “Us? When?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I didn’t get a good enough look.” She frowned. “Not too far distant, I think.”

He smiled. “I was thinking of taking you to a play. Perhaps we’ll be late for it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Then we’d best leave early.”

“I’ll look into tickets tomorrow.” He clasped her hand and squeezed it.

She squeezed back. “Go get some rest, Merritt Fernsby. You need it.”

He glanced out the window to the navy night beyond. “Let me make sure you get back to the mainland first,” he said. “I’ll grab my coat.”

“One more thing, Merritt. Well, two.”

He turned to her.

She related what had happened at BIKER with Baillie and the way she suspected he’d manipulated her emotions in an attempt to convince her to drop her play for the director’s position.

“He claims he doesn’t have that ability?” Merritt asked, suspicion lacing the comment.

She nodded. “Claims, yes.” Doubt crept in. “Mr.Walker confirmed that the only hysteria spell Mr.Baillie possesses is one of puerility.”

“Come again?”

“Silliness,” she amended.

His lips twisted as he mulled over it for a moment. Hulda, by habit, slipped her hand into her pocket and thumbed Myra’s telegram. She kept it on her person. For what reason, she couldn’t adequately say. She’d memorized the short message, and yet felt the need to keep proof of its existence close ... and perhaps out of sight of anyone else.

“The thing is,” Merritt spoke carefully, his words hesitant, “and don’t be offended by this—”

Hulda’s back straightened. “What?”

“It’s just ...whywould Alastair Baillie want to be the director of BIKER so badly?”

Hulda stared at him a couple of seconds. Did he really need to ask? “BIKER is a valuable and necessary institution. It oversees all enchanted residences in North America—”

“But,” he pressed, “there aren’t that many, right? That’s why Myra hired Silas to enchant new ones, yes?”

Hulda paused. “I ... well, yes. But there is still prestige in the position, and we often take up European work. LIKER can’t oversee everything.”

“Of course. It’s just ... lawyers make nice money. I imagine one working for LIKER would have a lot of pennies in his pocket. And isn’t LIKER more financially robust than BIKER?”

She didn’t like to admit it, but she nodded.

“And Baillie is English,” he offered. “Why leave all of it behind and move to the States, just to oversee a smaller company?”

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