Page 37 of Boy of Chaotic Making

It broke into three uneven pieces against an erected wardship spell. Another time, Merritt might have prided himself on his quick handling of the magic.

Owein whined. Anything that wasn’t nailed down or over two hundred pounds flew into the air—portraits, combs, clothing, dust clods, a chair, and so on. They flew back and forth, faster with each pass. In moments they’d reach a deadly speed.

Merritt threw up a wardship spell to block a hatbox, palms held out, then another connected to it to deflect the chair. Hepushedthe magic away from himself, feeling the strain in his bones. His shoulder, where the shrunken trunk had hit, began to ache as he added a third section to his invisible wall.

“Hulda!”he bellowed. “I need help!”

A key grazed his crown. A fourth section of wall began corralling the orbiting objects closer to Owein. None struck him, but the shards of teacup whipped with alarming speed, and his shoes were flashing mulberry. The carpet beneath Owein began to bubble and pop, but still the terrier slept on, jerking and wheezing. One of his ears had gone bulbous, and his back legs were too long—his body changing in response to his unconscious use of alteration spells.

“Good heavens!” Hulda called, likely from their shared doorway. The only thing Merritt could see through the flying mess was a blip of candlelight.

Merritt’s knees creaked as he put a lid on the bespelled box. He felt the items pelting the wardship magic as if he were personally embracing it. The flying stuff soared faster, until he could barely make out individual items, and then—

The box blew with a greatboom! Clothing and ceramics and furniture exploded in all directions. Something broke the window. Merritt fell onto his backside and put his hands over his head; fortunately only a few socks and his notebook collided with him.

The stillness after the burst was deafening. Everything settled. The only sound was Merritt’s own heartbeat and a rustle as a breeze from the hole in the window sucked at the curtain.

Merritt?Owein hobbled in the mess, his legs not quite returned to normal. He whined again, spinning around.Where are we? What happened?

The chaocracy-induced confusion would wear off soon enough. After crawling over, Merritt put a hand on Owein’s neck. “We’re safe.” He let out a long, shaky breath. “We’re safe.”

Chapter 15

March 4, 1847, London, England

“It was Owein.”

Merritt sat in the parlor with Prince Friedrich early the next morning, before breakfast had been served. The encounter last night had stirred a few in the house, but Merritt had managed to put off an explanation until daylight. Hulda had her first meeting in East London today with the tutor Lady Briar recommended; at the moment, however, she was poring over Owein and Cora’s marriage contract. Unfortunately, Owein’s magically charged nightmare hadn’t gone undetected, and thus Merritt found himself assuring his host that it wasn’t the dead marquess acting out after an attempted exorcism.

Merritt ran a hand down his face. “He’s been struggling with sleep lately.” He wanted to explain the situation without invading Owein’s privacy. This sort of thing had happened at Whimbrel House, too, but not so ... severely. Merritt wondered if the new place—and the new stressors it brought with it—was affecting the poor boy’s nightmares. “Bad dreams. I suppose it’s a wizardly form of sleepwalking. I’m terribly sorry for any damages. I’m of course willing to compensate you.”

Hopefully the Leiningens would accept the funds in installments.

“Don’t worry about that. It’s a few dishes, really.” Prince Friedrich nodded, punctuating the statement.

And a few pieces of furniture, but Merritt didn’t feel the need to remind him. In truth, the episode had been ... alarming. Not just for the injury it had caused him—which, thanks to wardship’s weakening of the body, Merritt was still nursing—but the intensity, particularly at the end. Like all the chaotic energy Owein put out had been amplified inside the box Merritt had created, setting it off like a bomb.

Friedrich continued, “Honestly, I understand. My dear sister used to have bouts of anxiety that had similar outcomes. She grew out of it.”

Merritt nodded. “That gives me hope.”

Prince Friedrich stroked his mustache. “But the first room, in the other wing?”

Merritt leaned back. “Not Owein. He was with me. He can’t project his spells so far, regardless.”

“Blast.” The prince snapped his fingers. “That would have been a simple answer to it, no?”

“If you want to worry about the house collapsing around you as you slumber each night of our visit, I suppose so.”

To his relief, Friedrich grinned. “Well, all of this has certainly brought some excitement to Cyprus Hall.”

Merritt countered, “I have a hard time believing you lack for excitement.”

His smile faded. “I must apologize, again, for my daughter’s unseemly outburst.”

“It’s quite all right,” Merritt assured him. “I understand where she’s coming from. It’s hard to—”

The door to the parlor opened, and Lady Helen stepped in, blue skirts swishing around her. She wore a high-necked dress with layers of lace draping off the collar, something Hulda would likely find excessive, though it suited the woman well. She took a seat on the sofa beside her husband. “Will Owein be able to keep his appointment with my dear Cora today?”

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