Page 80 of Heir of Uncertain Magic

But for how long?

Darkness itched around his vision. A nightmare trying to lure him into slumber.

A sound tickled his ear, and he tilted his head. It came from upstairs, faint, a man’s voice—but not Baptiste’s. Had the stranger come back?

Owein barked twice, earning a faint“C’est quoi?”from the living room. Owein didn’t wait for Baptiste, though; he bolted up the stairs.Paused and listened again, until he heard a new sound—a fumbling sound that came from Merritt’s room. He bolted that way as the chef’s heavy steps sounded below.

New smells enticed him, but Owein forced himself to focus. To follow the sounds to the communion stone on top of the dresser, which he couldn’t reach. If he stood on his hind legs, pressing his front against the third drawer up, he could get close.

“—dence in here,” a man with an accent similar to the stranger’s was saying. More fumbling noises came, one loud enough that Owein winced. Like the man had activated Hulda’s communion stone without realizing it.

Owein whined. Even if he could reach the stone, he couldn’t talk back.

“What is wrong?” Baptiste asked, entering the room. When he saw Owein, he paused.

A sigh emitted from the stone. “Let’s turn over the entire thing.”

“No, let’s sort through it first, just to be sure.”

Owein didn’t recognize the voices.

Baptiste, stepping softly now, crossed the room and put his ear to the stone, his dark brows low as he listened.

The first man spoke, but a shuffling sound cut him off. “How long we keeping them?”

“Not long,” replied the second. “They get the wizards through quickly, before they cause too much trouble. Maybe a breeding program.”

“That’s medieval.”

“Not sure the lady is strong, so she’llprobablyget indentured labor. The other one is supposedly dangerous.”

“Noose?”

“Maybe. I wouldn’t think so, but someone’s really browbeating for it. For the both of them.”

Owein whined. Baptiste’s fingers pushed so hard into the dresser they looked ready to pierce the wood.

“What’s that?” asked the first. “Give it to me. It looks like it’s activated.”

“More spy work,” grumbled the second.

A few taps and rubs followed, and the stone went quiet.

Owein dropped down to all fours. Baptiste picked up the stone, his thumb hovering over the rune there, but he didn’t press it.

“This is connected to MissLarkin’s stone,” he explained, accent a little lighter, like he thought Owein wouldn’t be able to understand him if he didn’t push for an American inflection. “Someone else has it. I think ...” He exhaled through his nose. “She’s been arrested, too.”

Owein barked. He spun around the room, not sure what to do with himself. Not sure what to think.

“They’d be in a prison with special ...défense, for magic. In or near Boston.” He set the stone down.

Owein’s tail beat nervously against the floor. He barked again.Noose!If they were hanged, they’d never come home again.

And then what would be the point? What was the point of living and spelling and doing magic if he was just going to be alone again?

Baptiste rubbed the thick stubble on his chin.

Owein bolted into the hallway, down the stairs, and to the back door, still cracked for his use. He clawed it open and raced out into the cold air, winding around the house and the flattened yard, charging down the path toward the boat. He heard Baptiste call him. He kept running until he reached the shore.

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