Page 30 of Wizard of Most Wicked Ways

Hulda’s feet strode by the door again, toward the stairs. Time to go.

Owein stood. “Don’t turn back. You’ll exhaust yourself.” Now that Fallon’s secret was out, she stayed human around the family, but she still shifted into a hawk to survey the island multiple times a day. Owein didn’t point out the circles under her eyes.

She stood as well, sweeping hair off her shoulders. “I’ll bird up when it’s time to go so I don’t cost a fare ticket.”

“Blightree is covering it.”

“I don’t mind.”

Owein masked a frown, searching her green eyes, looking over her high cheekbones and smooth skin.Justlikeme.As if it were hard. As if it were even a choice to make.

He crouched and found a second, smaller bag under his bed. “Where’s your other dress? I’ll pack it.”

“I’ll get it.” She turned for the door, then hesitated. “What did Cora send you?”

Owein pressed his lips together to hide the tight emotion climbing up his throat. “Only a letter, in the box. And all the help she could muster.”

Fallon nodded. She’d never asked him for the private details of Cora’s letters. Never asked much about her period, for which Owein was grateful. Then again, perhaps she didn’t stay away from the topic for his sake, but for her own.

She slipped into the hallway.

Owein let out a long breath and steeled himself. Part of him wanted Fallon to go home, where Silas couldn’t touch her, but another part of him was grateful she’d be with him, helping him sort through the thoughts he couldn’t bring himself to share even with Merritt. He didn’t want to burden his family with more worry than they already carried. And because hedidlike her, and wanted her, regardless of how much it hurt to like and want her.

Quietly thanking the Lord for Fallon, he grabbed the bags and hurried downstairs to leave instructions on his dogs’ routines and say goodbye.

Then, they’d sail for the mainland.

The sun was setting by the time they crossed the bay, giving the world enough light to clearly see them. But Viola Mirren had a very particular set of skills that had landed her in the Queen’s League—specifically bred, which she freely admitted when Owein had asked. She was an elementist of water and a conjurist of storms, or specifically the pressure that caused one. Owein had previously had no idea such a thing existed. Even Hulda appeared impressed.

Mrs. Mirren reached into a pouch and pulled out a handful of things: a few iron orbs, a small string of pearls, beads of snowflake obsidian. “An offering.” She held them out in her palm. Owein understood as soon as Mirren ignited her spells, creating a heavy fog. The water spell would claim moisture from Mirren’s own body, but conjury claimed something the ether, or perhaps God, deemed equal to the cast. Owein watched, fascinated, as two of the iron orbs and two pearls from the string faded into nothing.

The fog would conceal their passage, should Silas Hogwood, or anyone working for him, be watching. Owein doubted the man had lackeys—he’d approached the house alone, and in such disarray. He’d pointed out as much. Merritt had merely stated, “Better to be safe,” and remained quiet the rest of the journey.

From Portsmouth, they crowded onto the kinetic tram for Boston and then hired a carriage—courtesy of Blightree—for Cambridge. They arrived near ten o’clock, but the Tanners’ windows were alight with candles. Danielle, still dressed for the day, rushed out of the house the moment the carriage pulled up.

“Oh, my dears! How absolutely dreadful!” She clasped Hulda by the shoulders, then patted Ellis’s soft hair. “I hope the travel wasn’t too dreary.”

“Softer, for the children,” Hulda murmured as Merritt approached with a drowsy Mabol in his arms. Owein shifted Hattie’s weight against his shoulder and searched the darkness for Fallon’s hawk form, but didn’t see her. “But thank you,” Hulda finished.

“Oh, the poor dears.” She squeezed Mabol’s ankle before spying Owein and hurrying over. “Owein! You’ve grown yet again!”

While the Fernsbys visited the Tanners about twice annually, Owein had managed to avoid Cambridge for a year and a half. “As one does.”

He tried not to grimace as she pinched his cheek, then whipped her hand back. “Oh my. You even have whiskers.”

Stifling a groan, Owein started for the house. Merritt, covering for him, said, “Puberty was thorough with him. We so appreciate your hospitality, Danielle. Where would you like us to put the children?”

“Oh. Oh! Of course. You must be exhausted from the trip. And your collarbone!”

“Healed by a good friend,” Merritt assured her.

“Truly? I want to hear everything.” She gestured toward the house. “Let me get you some tea and a soft chair. Come in, come in.”

She took Hulda by the elbow and guided them inside, where her husband, John, wearily greeted them. Owein didn’t mind John; he was quiet and only spoke if he had something relevant to say. He said nothing now. Owein took Mabol in his other arm before following a maid to the nursery. Mabol went down like a doll; Hattie stirred, but Owein rubbed her back until she settled.

Only then did he notice their father standing in the doorway.

Merritt sighed as Owein stepped into the hall. “I hate this.”

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