Heir of Uncertain Magic (Whimbrel House, #2)

by Charlie N. Holmberg

Communion, wardship, chaocracy. Those were the magics tied up in Merritt’s blood. He’d love to get rid of the first. He’d still seen no sign of the last.

Truly, Owein fascinated him. Despite

having a spirit some two hundred and twenty-something years old, Owein still behaved like a boy. He’d died at the age of twelve, and twelve was the age engraved into his heart. Perhaps his lack of maturity came from being alone for so long, away from the social and familial interactions that would have helped him grow up. 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?

Why should I be sad when so much is good? Such a simple answer, and one Merritt wanted to cling to.

“Really, darling.” He stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, took her hand, and pulled her knuckles to his lips. Met her eyes and held them until that flattering pink suffused her cheeks. Then he whispered, “Just let me enjoy you.” She opened her mouth but failed to say anything, and something

In truth, Merritt didn’t think Hulda Larkin could relax. God had

made her out of steel and concrete and laced her together with thick whale-boned corsets. Something they would have to work on.

“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.

“I hate

to say it,” she treaded carefully, “but Silas Hogwood was right.” “Hm.” The teacup warped the sound. He sipped and winced. “Goodness, Hulda. There’s a lot of sugar in this.” She shrugged. “Sugar makes sad things better.” She often indulged when she was sad. She’d eaten scads of candy the night Merritt had taken off to Manchester, looking for Ebba Mullan.

“There’s a secret facility in Ohio that banks blood from wizard cadavers and placentas.”

Very good book very enjoyable to read