Page 61 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

He finished the tea and set it on the side table with the other cups, then leaned back against the headboard. “I’m too afraid to go back home. To face them.”

She squeezed his hand.

“I’m a coward.”

“You are not.”

He shook his head. He didn’t believe her.

She scrambled for something to say. Some sort of bandage for the situation. A joke, perhaps? Some inspirational poem or lyric? If only therewerea primer—

A primer ...

“What if,” she tried, “this were a story?”

He eyed her.

“One of your stories. Which it is, but I mean likeThe Path of Rubies.” Which was the title of his latest book. “What would your hero do if you had to write his ending?”

Merritt rolled his lips together. “I’m not sure. I don’t like knowing the ending.”

“Then perhaps you could write it.”

“Easier said than—”

“I mean actuallywriteit,” she amended. “On a piece of paper. You can write about what might happen, how you might react ... just for yourself, not for anyone else to read it. It might help if you get your thoughts out of your head and onto something solid. Something that you could burn or feed to Owein.”

That tick of a smile returned. “That’s not the worst idea.”

“Of course it’s not.” She sat up straighter. “I’m a professional.”

The small smile held, and it warmed her through. His hand squeezed hers; she squeezed back. Then he stiffened and held very still for a long moment. Not even his chest moved with breath.

“Merritt?” she whispered.

He shook his head, a wondering expression pulling up his mouth and widening his eyes. “It’s ... gone.”

“What is?”

“Their voices.” His words were underlined by a weak laugh. “Just like that ... they stopped. The spider, the tree ...”

Hulda’s chest warmed. “Maybe,” she said softly, carefully, “they’ve stopped talking because you finally started listening to yourself.”

His eyes met hers, that wondering look making him appear younger.

Leaning forward, she kissed his forehead. “In that case, I suggest you sleep. It’s long overdue.”

Merritt released a long, cleansing breath and sank back into his pillow.

He was asleep in less than a minute.

Hulda had thought Merritt would rest through the night, but he was up three hours later, when the sky was black but the hour not too late. It worked well for her, as she would not be traversing the bay tonight. The Bright Bay Hotel and BIKER were the last places she wanted to be right now. Regardless, the candlelight under the door gave him away. Hulda knocked to announce herself, and then stepped in quietly.

“How are you feeling?”

“Good,” he breathed. “Better.” He rubbed his eyes, then dragged his hands down his face. “Better.”

“Good.”

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