Heir of Uncertain Magic (Whimbrel House, #2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

Perhaps aging was a thing of the body and not the soul.

Even when you’re gone, it’s less . . . lonely, like this. My heartbeat keeps me company.

Owein blinked. He took a moment to answer. Looked away. Why should I be sad when so much is good?

All Merritt wanted was to love her, and to show her he loved her because he knew she doubted herself.

“Would you, though?” Merritt asked, barely audible to himself, but the way Sutcliffe stiffened, he knew the constable had heard it. “Would you reach out to my mother? My father? Would you tell my brothers who I am? Would you make that right?” Sutcliffe stood there, utterly crestfallen, without an answer. And that was how Merritt left him.

“Goodness, Hulda. There’s a lot of sugar in this.” She shrugged. “Sugar makes sad things better.”