If there’s a wall in your way, tear it down.
Then, finally, the aesran.
Felix crouched to search the other bodies. The rifles were too heavy, too difficult to use. So, he plucked two flintlock pistols and a dagger from their belts.
“Here now, take this.” He handed Marlow a pistol.
“I don’t want a gun, Felix.”
A twist of apprehension in his gut. “You’re not coming with me?” He couldn’t do this without her. He needed her.
“Don’t be puttin’ words in my mouth,” she said dryly. “Just don’t want a damned gun.” Her rings glowed red, and she gave him a sharp smile.
The corner of his mouth lifted. He could always count on Marlow.
The night market was in full swing, the city unaware of the change that was coming. Felix tucked the pistols away, then stepped up onto the edge of the fountain. His gaze slid slowly over the small groups of City Watch scattered across the market square, and he hesitated.
If there’s a wall in your way, tear it down.
Felix had never met his father, but he’d heard the stories. A lieutenant who’d fought in the war against Vastrad, his team had turned the tide when the war was all but lost. Atheran was still Atheran because of him.
What would he think if he saw it now—saw how it treated his only son? Felix was certain he’d be standing right here with him. He’d understand what needed to be done. His father had died to protect his home, and Felix would fight to fix it.
He could be fearless, too. But he sure as hell wasn’t dying tonight. He had no interest in being a martyr.
“Wielders!” he shouted. “Atheran’s in dire need of change!” A few heads turned his way, but the restless murmur of the crowd persisted. He flexed his fingers, drew a steady breath, then conjured a dark cloud. It roiled above them, swirling like an impending storm. Using his magic in public felt like breaking free from invisible chains. He stood taller, chin held high.
Faces turned to him now, the crowd quieting. When he spoke again, his voice was steady.
“In nature, it’s the strongest who endure and survive while the weak and the cowardly get left behind.That’sthe law, etchedin the bones of history. But the aesran? She’s out to rewrite it. Stealing our power and handing it to those who’ve no right to it.”
The accusation was a lure, drawing them in. They were truly listening now. He spoke with growing conviction as the City Watch closed in, his voice carrying loudly through the square.
“There’s an elixir used by the nobility, funded by the crown and pushed by the ministry. Wielders are being dragged from the streets, murdered, just to make the stuff. They punish us for our magic, but now they think they cantakeit for themselves! Our power’s not theirs to take. We are not prey to be butchered for their gain. Our lives, our choices—they belong to us, not to tyrants!”
A ripple ran through the crowd, voices rising, shouts breaking loose. The prim faces of the aristocrats shifted quickly to fear.
Felix called out above the noise. “Why should we live on our knees? They don’t hold the power.We do!And I’ll be damned if I’m bowing to those who arebeneathme!”
His eyes lit gold, a display of what he was, what he could do, and the dark cloud vanished as his focus shifted.
“It’s time to set things right. To rip down the opulent, the dishonorable, the corrupt. To remind them why they fear us!”
Chaos broke out in one fell swoop. Stalls ignited with pink flames, and the handful of Watch were swiftly overwhelmed. Felix stepped down from the fountain, steadied by Marlow’s hand.
Now, to find the aesling.
Screams erupted from all around as he made his way across the square. A body lay sprawled on the ground, limbs spread unnaturally. He stepped over the corpse, eyes scanning.
Where are you?
A man ran past, dressed in a fine tailcoat and carrying a dueling cane. He stumbled and fell, his cane flying from his grip as he landed on his hands and knees.
Felix’s gaze followed the object as it skittered across the cobblestones. When it came to a stop, he looked back at the man. He wasn’t familiar, not a face from Felix’s past, but he may as well have been.
It was easy to spot the nobility among the laborers, merchants, and beggars who made up most of Fallowmoor’s population. They stood out, not only in their clothing choices and their cleanliness, but in their spinelessness.
The man looked back at the chaos, eyes like saucers, then scrambled forward, seeking shelter behind a stall. He hadn’t noticed Felix. Didn’t see him aim his gun.
