Page 33 of Boy of Chaotic Making

A clamor of silverware on porcelain pierced his ear, punctuated by a gasp. Owein turned his attention back to the dinner table. Cora’s sister, Briar, was standing, her shoulders tense, her hands pressed to the table’s edge.

“I cannot possibly go along with this farce any longer.” Her voice was hard as a thrown book.

“Good gracious, Briar!” Lady Helen reached over as though to grasp her sleeve, but since her husband sat between the two, she couldn’t quite reach. “Sit down! What is the meaning of this?”

“Imeanto point out how absolutely absurd and unfeeling this entire affair has become!” Her voice pitched high on the last few words. “It is one thing to insist we abstain from any sort of amour when courting because we’re merely horses for breeding—”

“Briar!” Lady Helen snapped.

Cora merely placed a hand over her mouth.

“—but to insist my sister,your daughter—betroth herself to adog? How much further could we possibly take this?”

Owein.Merritt’s voice popped into his head, though Merritt hadn’t turned toward him.Perhaps you should step out.

Owein didn’t.

Still seated, Prince Friedrich said, “You’ve made your stance on the situation very clear. You embarrass yourself with this outburst.”

Briar’s husband, the baron, took on a queer shade of gray. Was he flushing?

“And yet it seems no one in this room has heard me.” Briar spun toward Cora. “Surely you realize the insensibility of all this!”

Cora, soft-spoken even in quiet moments, didn’t answer. Her eyes watered. Owein took a step forward, wanting to comfort her, but Merritt heard him—he put out a hand, warning him to stay.

Stay, like a good dog.

Owein didn’t want to be a dog anymore.

“Mr. Fernsby.” Briar wheeled on Merritt. “You are a sensible man.”

Lady Helen left her seat and came around Prince Friedrich’s chair, snatching Briar as though to physically make her sit down.

Briar was undaunted. “A sensible man with American ideals offreedom.” She spat that last word at her mother, successfully stilling her attempts to quell her outburst. “You must see how hurtful this is to my sister.”

“Briar,” Cora protested meekly, but no one seemed to hear.

“I ...” Merritt’s gaze shifted from Briar to Cora to her parents. “I’m not sure—”

“You needn’t answer her,” Prince Friedrich said with a calm coldness, slicing into his Genoese fancy. “She is acting the part of a child.”

Briar whirled on him. “How dare you cite immaturity for my reasonings whenyoumarried for love.”

Her father had nothing to say to that.

Owein barked, gaining the attention of every person in the dining room, even the servants trying to disappear into its corners.I’m not a dog!he shouted.I didn’t choose this body! Can’t you understand? I haven’t been a real person for over two hundred years. If it makes this family happy, why is it such a terrible thing? I’m a human first! Why can’t you see that?

But of course, they couldn’t hear him. They weren’t communionists or psychometrists. Only Merritt’s expression dipped with the weight of sympathy. To everyone else, he was just a worked-up mutt.

Seething, Briar turned her attention back to her mother. “I will address Victoria herself if I must.”

With that, she stormed from the table.

Hulda inspected her bedchamber with the eye of a woman who’d specialized in them the past fifteen years. It was a very commendable room, with copper fixtures and a large west-facing window, heavy brocade draperies pulled aside. Her two bags were already set on a trunk at the foot of what was perhaps the plushest bed she’d ever seen in her life, complete with four tall posts and a dozen ornately embroidered pillows. A soft fire crackled in the hearth, making the room smell a little earthy and, oddly enough, a little rosy. Hulda crossed to it and gently set two quarter logs atop it. Then she closed the curtains to block the chill from the window; it was already dark outside, so leaving them open was no benefit to her.

Next, she paced. Her reasonable side sewed half-spun excuses for why it was perfectly natural for Mr. Blightree to be presiding over these proceedings. Few necromancers alive could successfully execute an entire body transition, so it made sense that a family connection existed between the two who could. All was well, the reasonable voice insisted, but her experienced side reminded her that reason hadn’t protected her from Mr. Hogwood and Mr. Baillie. The first had nearly killed her, and well, she supposed the second nearly had, too.

Well. She’d sort this out swiftly, then.

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