Page 95 of Boy of Chaotic Making

He reached her and held out a hand. He’d decided that might be the best way to do it. “Owein Mansel. It’s nice to meet you again.”

She stared at his face for several seconds, then weakly took his hand. “You talk funny,” she managed.

He shrugged.

Pulling her hand away, she dropped her head. “I’m surprised you want to talk to me.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that, so they lingered there in painful silence for a minute. “The queen ... she said she’d make an amendment—”

“I know.” She whispered now. “My mother told me.”

More stiff silence.

“Thank you,” she finally added. “I’m sorry ... I’m so sorry. I was so scared. I still am.” She opened her hand to the circular scar on her palm. “I won’t let him heal it.” Blightree, she meant. “I need to remember this.”

“We’re okay,” he offered. “All of us.”

She shook her head. Her lip quivered. Once she’d steeled herself, she said, “I never meant tohurtyou. Not really. I wanted to shake up that room to scare you off, but I didso much...” Her gaze lingered on the scar on her palm. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do so much damage. It scared me. That’s why I bought the next spell. And Maksim”—the hound who’d been injured, she meant—“I thought he was you. The room was mostly empty. I thought I’d scare you, and it would be so obvious you were the target that you and the others would run right back home ...” Her voice creaked into nothing. She sniffed. Owein waited while her throat cleared, but when she spoke again, it was barely a whisper. “But he moved, and I hurt himandthe baron. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t trust myself anymore.”

“Cora—”

“But Briar gave me courage,” she continued, barely audible. She didn’t lift her head, wouldn’t look at him. “I thought I’d try one more time. That carriage was so big, I thought for sure it would hit the one next to it and stop, but it didn’t. I’m glad ...” She swallowed. “I’m glad you were so fast, Owein. I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

You almost did,he thought, thinking of the storm in the drawing room, but he didn’t voice it. He didn’t think she needed to hear it.

“Thank you,” he offered, taking a step back, giving her space. “For giving me a body.”

She still didn’t look at him. “It wasn’t me. None of this was me.”

“I know. But you’re part of it.”

She brushed the back of her hand across her eyes. “I suppose so.”

She said nothing more, even after a few more difficult minutes. So Owein turned and started for the door. He’d just reached it when Cora said, “Owein?”

He glanced back.

“Can I ... write to you?” She still didn’t look at him. “Not ... now. Not for a while. But I think ... once things are more normal, once I’ve fixed them ... maybe I would like to.”

“Yes,” he answered simply. He didn’t think the response needed embellishment.

She said nothing more, and neither did he. Owein slipped into the hallway, closing the door behind him, and carried his weary body toward the guest bedrooms. Paused and dug deep to find the energy to do a little more.

Taking the stairs down to the sitting room, he found Hulda and Merritt speaking quietly to a red-eyed Lady Helen. Their words cut off when he got close; he no longer had the invisibility of a household pet. Still, Lady Helen gave him a close-lipped smile. “I really am so glad for you, Owein. I can’t wait to see what you grow into.”

He looked from her to Merritt, then back again, unsure whom to ask. “I wanted to talk about the contract.”

Merritt rolled his lips together. It felt like he wanted to say something the others couldn’t hear, but his communion spells only worked on plants and animals, and Owein was neither of those anymore.

“Merritt signed it.” Hulda spoke hesitantly—they had told him this earlier, before he’d reintroduced himself to the Leiningens. Owein understood her confusion.

“I know. But ...” He chose to focus on Lady Helen. “I would like to sign it myself.”

She stood a little straighter. “You would?”

He nodded. “You made a promise to me, and you kept your end.” He ran his hands down his footman’s shirt—it was all they’d had onhand that would fit him, though it was a bit large. “I want to keep my promises, too. I want to sign it.”

He had just over four years to get used to the idea of marrying someone. Strange, thinking about the time. Four years would have gone by very quickly if he still lived within the walls of Whimbrel House, yet it seemed like an eternity now.

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