Page 70 of Boy of Chaotic Making

“Might be decent enough for a game of cricket today,” Baron von Gayl suggested. “What do you say?”

Prince Friedrich laughed. “With what team?”

“Surely you’ve some neighbors itching for exercise,” the baron countered. Their single-file line remerged into a group. Hulda’s arm looped through Merritt’s, and Lady Helen summoned Cora to come closer and whispered something in her ear.

“A last-minute cricket tournament?”

“Just for fun.Tournamentis too serious,” the baron protested.

Hulda stopped walking, her grip tightening on Merritt’s elbow. He glanced at her, catching just the end of that blank look she got when her augury ignited. The way her face paled had his heart squelching.

“What did you see?” he asked, hoping it wasn’t another questionable glimpse of him. He’d spoken quietly, but the words had come right in a break of conversation, so the others heard and turned curious heads their way.

Hulda blinked. Looked at Merritt, then to Cora and Lady Helen. “I ... I’m not sure I should share ...”

Two delicate lines formed between Lady Helen’s brows. “You had a vision? Please tell.”

Hulda swallowed; Merritt placed his free hand on her shoulder for support. After a beat, she replied, “I saw Lady Cora. I saw something heavy falling on her, not unlike what happened in the breakfast room.”

Cora gasped. Owein licked her hand, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Mercy!” Lady Helen exclaimed at the same time Prince Friedrich replied, “Surely not!”

Hulda only managed a nod. “I’m afraid I’m not mistaken. It was Cora—I couldn’t tell where she was. It looked to be morning, perhaps. There wasn’t a lot of light around. I heard a cracking and saw her look up right as something—I’m sorry, I couldn’t decipher what—fell atop her.”

Cora asked, “C-Crushed?”

Dipping her head, Hulda answered, “I don’t know. It cut out too quickly. I’m not strong in soothsaying. I only see slivers of the future, really.”

“Could you summon it again?” asked the baron. “Hold on to it a little longer?”

She stiffened. “I ... I doubt it. I’m working with a professor to hone my ability, but—”

“We must get another augurist at once!” Lady Helen demanded. They were starting to earn the attention of the guards, likely wondering why they were carrying on in the bailey, but Lady Helen paid them no mind. “We must fetch Cousin Margaret. Surely she would be able to see it better!”

Prince Friedrich frowned. “Margie is on her honeymoon, dear. She’s somewhere in the islands of Italy right now.”

Tears began to well in Lady Helen’s eyes.

Lady Cora gripped fistfuls of her skirt. Then, expression tight with determination, she said, “Your professor, Miss Larkin. Is he adept in soothsaying?”

Merritt felt Hulda relax a fraction. “He is. More so than I am.”

Lady Helen sprang forward like a puppet stuffed with a new hand. “Then we will have him to the house as soon as possible.”

The glimpses Hulda had seen could not be changed, but if she didn’t see fit to point this out, neither would Merritt. Lady Helen was resolute and, at that moment, more terrifying than any general who’d earned the honor of having his armor displayed in the tower behind them. If nothing else, they might be able to see a closer look atwhenher vision would come to pass, so they could arrange to have someone like Blightree around for a quick healing. Though it might not be possible to change the future, one could certainly cushion it.

“We’ll contact him straightaway,” Merritt offered, and that seemed to quell the fire behind her countenance.

Needless to say, the ride home was a tense one, with few words spoken.

Chapter 25

March 9, 1847, London, England

Owein had entirely forgotten about the dinner party Tuesday night, which the now-much-sought-after Professor Griffiths would be attending. The house filled with complementary smells—pork and bread being the strongest. Owein really liked both, especially when butter was involved, but he had to fight the dog side of him to savor anything. It wanted to snork down dinners like food would stop existing on the morrow.

For now, he watched Lady Helen pace back and forth in the reception hall, occasionally directing a passing servant, though the staff seemed preoccupied with the dinner. He’d already heard her say, more to herself than to him or anyone else, “Of course the reading will need to wait until after dinner, as is polite” and “If he doesn’t come, we shall have to issue a new invitation.”

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