Page 13 of Boy of Chaotic Making

Her hand started to cramp as she wrote the last methodical lines of the letter; she had a tendency to hold the pen too tightly when she was trying to be especially tidy in her penmanship. But she finished, signed her name, and set the last page aside to dry. After wiping the pen and returning it to her drawer, Hulda massaged her right hand at the base of her thumb. In doing so, she couldn’t help but notice, again, the ring encircling the fourth finger on her left hand.

It reallywassuited to her, she thought as she tilted her hand back and forth, letting it catch the light filtering through the window behind her. Elegant without being ostentatious. The pearl shined a bright, silvery white, a fine complement to its sterling setting. Almost as if it were—

The sparkle of light snuffed out as her augury took hold, wiping out the office around her. The vision was dark, almost too dark to see, but she heard Merritt cough. Knew it was him, not just from the sound, but because it was his ring that had triggered the vision. He was in a hallway she didn’t recognize. It was so murky—but no, that was smoke. He was surrounded by smoke!

Danger.The word pressed into her mind. Reeling, she found herself back in her office, all the sights and smells of the vision gone as quickly as they had come.

She gaped for a moment, forgetting herself, as she tended to do with her magic. Then she shook her head and shot to her feet, nearly tipping over the ink vial on her desk. She pushed her chair back and marched to the door, yanking it open with enough force to startle Miss Steverus, whose desk sat just outside.

“Are you all—” the secretary began.

“I need you to book me a ticket on the next kinetic ship to England.” She spun around for her office, paused, and then turned back for Sadie, trying to orient herself and coassemble a plan. She couldn’t simply drop everything to run to England! She’d need to pack, yes. And alert LIKER she was coming. At the same time, panic choked her, as the vision had surely concerned Merritt’s trip. While she could do nothing to change the future, she could, at the very least, warn him of the danger.

If only she knew more.

“Miss Larkin?”

“Straightaway,” Hulda said.

Miss Steverus nodded, grabbed a few things off her desk, as well as her coat, and hurried down the stairs to the exit.

Hulda turned inward. Her colleague Mrs. Thornton was presently stationed in New Hampshire; she could oversee BIKER while Hulda was away, which hopefully wouldn’t be for long. The other woman was in possession of a BIKER communion stone—Hulda need only find its pair in the filing room and direct her to report to headquarters. As for Mr. Walker at LIKER, she would need to send a telegram. They didn’t have connected selenite large enough to cover the distance of the Atlantic, which likewise meant her communion stone with Merritt wouldn’t function again until she arrived in Europe.

Danger.The word rankled her as she hurried down the hallway to the filing room. She didn’t often get impressions of words with her visions—in fact, the last time she could remember it happening was with Merritt, when the story involving Ebba and his father had unraveled. She didn’t like it. And she wished desperately she could conjure forth that vision a second time. Curse the weakness of her singular spell!

She made it to the room and quickly found the stone she needed. BIKER had its own telegraph, so that would save her time as well. Then she’d head downstairs to pack her things. Miss Steverus would be backshortly with her ticket; if there were any ships departing today, Hulda had to be ready to run.

“It will be fine,” she reminded herself, jogging to the telegram. “You’ve seen visions further out than that one. He will be fine.”

Still, she had to try, and when Hulda Larkin tried, she put fortheffort.

Chapter 6

March 1, 1847, London, England

Merritt felt like a little boy as their private, very expensive-looking carriage pulled up to a mansion that surely wasn’t made of marble but certainly looked it. He’d thought the exuberant home looked, well, exuberant from the road, but as the horses trotted up its long drive, past manicured bushes and enchanted water features that looked like upside-down wedding cakes, it became utterly astonishing. Merritt found himself equal parts amazed and, due to his modest sensibilities, disgusted at the blue gabled roofs with bronze cresting, perfectly symmetrical chimneys, and rows of neat rectangular windows highlighting panels of pressed brick. There were pale stringcourses in high relief between each of the house’s stories, of which there appeared to be four. The base of the glamorous monstrosity was textured with a mix of brick and stone in shades of white, gray, and blue to match the rest of the house. There were doors. Many doors. Which made sense—a man could easily get lost in a house like this, so numerous exits were smart. The whole thing was roughly the size of Blaugdone Island, and it sat on a lush green lawn roughly the size of Rhode Island. A hyperbole to be sure, but it seemed an apt one.

And he’d thought Whimbrel House excessive upon his first visit.

“Welcome to Cyprus Hall,” Adey said, with a pleased look about him, though he’d borne a pleased look ever since Merritt and Owein had agree upon this eccentric adventure. The carriage pulled around, revealing a long line of people waiting outside massive double doors—most were in matching black-and-white uniforms, four women and two men. At their center stood three middle-aged people, two men and a woman, all looking onward with bright eyes and brighter smiles. Two of them, likely a couple, stood in front of the other man. He wore dark clothes and had a receding hairline and light-brown hair speckled with gray. Of the couple, the woman had dark hair, nearly black, meticulously curled and pinned. She was tall with a healthy amount of stoutness. The man was taller still, with a long nose and thinning gray hair neatly oiled and combed. His jacket was nearly the same color as the roof, and Merritt wondered if he’d done that on purpose.

I don’t know. Maybe,Owein replied, surprising Merritt, who hadn’t realized he’d sent the thought on their communion line. There was magic all about in this place—those water features didn’t move by machine, and there appeared to be enchanted lights, currently unlit, along the path and exterior of the house. Other spells likely lurked about as well. It was incredibly interesting. How much would these folk let him poke around?

The carriage stopped, and one of the men in uniform—footman—approached as the driver dismounted. The footman opened the door. As Merritt hesitated to rise, Adey stepped out first, then off to the side to allow Merritt through, followed by Owein.

Goodness. The house wasimmense. Merritt took a moment to gawk at it before his eyes lowered to the approaching middle-aged couple.

The man extended a hand. “Merritt Fernsby?” He had a notable German accent and an equally notable graying mustache.

“As my mother named me.” He accepted the hand and received an overly firm shake.

“Wonderful, wonderful! I am Friedrich, and this is my wife, Helen. We are very happy to welcome you to our home.”

Clearing his throat, Adey added, “This is Prince Friedrich Karl Heinrich Ludwig, third prince of Leiningen, and his wife is Lady Helen de Clare, daughter of the Marquess of Halesworth.”

Merritt took in the information like he was sipping honey. Hulda would have understood it a little better, surely. He wished, not for the first time, that she’d been able to attend. “Meaning that you are both very important,” he tried.

To his relief, Friedrich—Prince Leiningen?—laughed. “Or so we would have others assume.”

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