Page 46 of Boy of Chaotic Making

Hulda set her yarn aside and stared at the weak fire in the finely decorated hearth. The damage to the guest bedroom was different from that of the breakfast room. Given the broken windows in the guest room, it was possible the damage had been done from a spell originating on theexterior of the house. Not so with the breakfasting room. Someone had deliberately unleashed magic in the room just above it. The Leiningens had no guests outside of Hulda, Merritt, Owein, and, she thought with a shudder, William Blightree.

So logic suggested that one of them might be behind the attacks—attacks that could very well be aimed at Merritt.

A sick, heavy feeling crawled through her chest like an obese slug. She shook herself.All is well. He was unharmed.

Returning to her bag, Hulda pulled out a receipt book. She’d taken notes in the margins of it. It wasn’t the most enticing receipt book she’d read, so she wasn’t particularly disconcerted at the idea of marking it up. She wrote down a few more details she’d gathered while following the police about, then turned back a page—to where she’d listed the spells of every known magic user in Cyprus Hall. Granted, one of them might possess an unknown talent. Merritt had been an unknown until recently, after all. She must also take into account that the spell had been purchased, not made, and anyone with a license or influence could have acquired it. Indeed, it needn’t be a magic user at all.

One of the servants?Hulda wrote in tiny letters in the corner near a drab cinnamon bread recipe. Everyone was being interviewed; perhaps she could pull some strings and see the police reports herself.

She considered her notes on the guest bedroom, her mind recalling the devastation there. Who had spells that could have caused such damage?

Owein and Merritt, both. But neither had the motive, and truthfully, Merritt’s chaocracy was finnicky, much like Hulda’s own augury. Besides, such an act would require a surge of magic so great it would have left the user addled long enough for a witness to notice. Neither Owein nor Merritt had felt such symptoms.

William Blightree was a necromancer, though he must have some kinetic ability if he claimed he could transfer Owein’s spirit. But did hehave enough strength to destroy an entire bedchamber? Hulda would need to come back to that.

Baron von Gayl had been bred like a show poodle to excel at kineticism. He certainly would have the spells necessary to do a great amount of targeted damage to a room. But he also wouldn’t have broken his own arm—nor could he have been in two places at once to do so.

Were there two culprits at hand, then?

Hulda shook her head and turned back a page. Baron von Gayl and Lady Briar hadn’t arrived at Cyprus Hall until the dayafterthe demolition of the guest bedroom. It couldn’t have been them.

Unless it was.

It was an errant thought, but one Hulda lingered on. They’d arrived the next morning. Might they have concealed the true time of their arrival to enact their scheme? Lady Briar was certainly against any marriage contract between her sister and Owein. According to Merritt’s account, she’d pledged to doanythingto prevent the nuptials. Lady Briar would also be familiar with the rooms her mother customarily used for guests. And unlike Lady Cora, she hadn’t seemed apoplectic about the injuring of the dog.

That last bit was speculation, but Hulda had come to find her speculation was often, more or less, correct.

Since Lady Briar didn’t seem keen on her husband, his presence in the breakfast room might not have impeded action. But what could she have against Merritt? He was Owein’s caretaker, yes ... Would Merritt also be signing the contract, since he had guardianship of Owein? But how could Lady Briar have been aware of that fact before coming to Cyprus Hall?

Hulda’s thoughts drifted to Mr. Adey. The royal familydidhave their ways.

She jotted down a few of her ideas. Still, the elder sister didn’t have much to gain by eliminating Merritt, unless she was entirely off her head. Other than, perhaps, providing an advantageous body for Owein.

Hulda’s pencil stilled. The marriage contract hinged on that, didn’t it? And what better body than one whose blood was infused with magic? It would certainly help with the enchanted lineage. Then again, Lady Briar seemed to object to arranged marriages altogether. If anyonewereconsidering killing Merritt for his magic-limned corpse, it would be Briar’s parents.

That heavy, sluglike feeling returned, only this time in her stomach. Hulda pressed a fist into it, sure she was going to be sick.

Perhaps this is too much speculation.She closed the book. Besides, Lady Briar had made it clear she had no interest in helping the contract along, and the only spell she retained that could create that sort of destruction in the guest bedroom was her wind spell. To use it so forcefully would mean risking her own life, since elemental spells of air took one’s breath away in compensation. She’d suffocate, as would her sister, who was an asthmatic.

There was Lady Helen, whose air spell would be more potent than either of her daughters’. But why would she destroy her own house? She was quite disconcerted by all of it, and Hulda didn’t believe her to be an excellent actress, merely a distressed noblewoman.

After shoving everything back into her bag, Hulda rose and strode for the door. She’d share all of this with Merritt and get his thoughts on it. Perhaps even lend it to the police. She was no detective, but surely she was digging in the right hole.

She’d just exited the room and started for the stairs when her path crossed with the last person she wanted to encounter: William Blightree.

She nodded and continued on her way.

“Miss Larkin.”

Her manners halted her step before her self-preservation could form remonstrance. Cursing inwardly, she turned around. “Yes, Mr. Blightree? I’m terribly sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry—”

“Yes, of course. I’ll walk with you.” He gestured ahead of them.

Hiding a cringe, Hulda continued on her way, hoping to outpace him.

She did not.

“I’ve been meaning to speak with you,” Mr. Blightree said, his smooth, cordial voice causing the sensation of ants beneath her bodice.

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