Page 27 of Boy of Chaotic Making

“And you can’t think of anyone”—she chose her word carefully—“who might wish you ill?”

A dry laugh escaped Merritt as he stuck a hand on the back of his head. “No one. I’ve neverbeenhere before, Hulda. I don’t know anyone. And I’m certain my books aren’tthatoffensive, if any copies made it overseas.”

Hulda didn’t smile.

He lowered his hand. “Truthfully, though. I’m supposedly here on the queen’s errand, and the Leiningens have been nothing but hospitable. Lady Helen’s apologized to me ...” He counted on his fingers. “... maybe a dozen and a half times already.”

Pressing her lips together, Hulda lowered the dowsing rods and carefully studied the room with her own eyes. Itdidn’tmake sense for Merritt to be a target, but she was far too monomaniacal to rule it out. How could it be happenstance? Perhaps the Leiningens had enemies, and said enemies didn’t know where they slept. Perhaps it was errant magic ... somehow. If the house had suddenly gained sentience, herrods would have picked up on it. And the matter of the collapsing room was not the only issue at hand ...

“I can’t fathom how they’ll do it.” She kept her voice low; Merritt had left the door ajar. “How could they possibly find a body for Owein? Other than what happened with Silas Hogwood, I haven’t heard of soul-switching happening in centuries ... If Mr. Blightree is powerful enough to make the switch, would he not be powerful enough to save whatever boy or young man he selected?”

“My thoughts precisely.” Merritt seemed eager for the subject change, drawing closer and folding his arms. The gesture emphasized his shoulders, and Hulda took a brief moment to appreciate them.

“The contract?” she tried.

“We’ve some time to ponder on it,” he offered. “But I wanted to get your thoughts. I know it’s been drafted. Honestly, they probably had it written up before we arrived.”

Tapping her fingers against the dowsing rods, Hulda said, “I suppose if the ethical boundaries are clearly stated ... but how does one clearly state it? Perhaps we should hire a lawyer.”

“I don’t know how much lawyers understand ethics.”

She rolled her eyes at the joke.

“Regardless,” Merritt continued, “the family wants to keep this close to the chest. I don’t know how well the general public would take to a princess being betrothed to adog. Briar certainly doesn’t seem to care for it.”

“Do take care to use their titles where they can hear you,” she pressed, “and the correct ones at that. Prince Friedrich’s title is from his German estate, but Lady Cora’s comes from her mother.” While his casual demeanor could be refreshing, Hulda didn’t want to risk any faux pas.

Merritt merely shrugged a shoulder.

She added, “And he’s not a dog ... not really.”

“Not judging Owein by the body he’s in is like not judging a book by its cover.” He scanned the room. “Not possible.” He waited a beat. “Anything else in that bag of yours that might prove handy?”

“I don’t think so. Not after the fact. If I’d been there ...” But there was no point in tracing the possibilities of the situation. “Perhaps I’ll find something of use at LIKER headquarters. You’re sure this was supposed to be your room?”

“Yes, but Lady Helen moved both Owein and me closer to the family after meeting us.” He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I would honestly consider it happenstance if I’d never met you. You keep me looking over my shoulder.”

Because Silas Hogwood and Alastair Baillie had taught them to be suspicious of happenstance.

“Perhaps it’s haunted,” he continued.

“Unlikely. Though—” Her train of thought caught as a trickle of memory lit. She focused on it, whisking back to a table and a bowl of soup in Boston.

Merritt touched her arm. “Hulda? Premonition?”

She blinked. “What? Oh, no. I was just remembering something.” She snapped her fingers. “There was an obituary in that newspaper that published your article on Owein. An announcement. It was ...” She closed her eyes a moment, thinking. “Yes, it was about the death of the Marquess of Halesworth. Member of the Queen’s League of Magicians.”

Merritt’s brows drew together. “And this is relevant because ...?”

A shiver coursed up her arms as she pictured that newspaper in her hands. “Because, if I’m not mistaken, I believe he diedhere, at Cyprus Hall.”

Lady Helen, Lady Cora, and Owein were just returning from their walk when Hulda and Merritt found them near the kitchen. Heavy cloud cover promised rain, but so far the weather had stayed dry.

“Oh yes.” Lady Helen’s face fell when Hulda inquired about the marquess. “My poor, dear father. His health had been in decline for some time.” She took a moment to breathe deeply and still her emotions, and Hulda almost regretted asking. “It wasn’t a surprise, that he passed, but yes, he was staying with us when it happened.” Turning to Cora, she said, “Why don’t you show Owein the library, my dear? Perhaps share a book with him.”

Merritt tilted his head—something he did when Owein was speaking to him. He said nothing, however, only shifted his eyes to and from Owein, as though offering silent encouragement.

Lady Helen waited until the two had departed before saying, “Why do you ask?”

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