Felix gritted his teeth, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as he fought to mask the pain. “Do we, now? And what’s that?”
“First, let Theo fix you up. Not wasting my breath if you’re just gonna keel over on me.” Gideon gave a sharp whistle, and a boy appeared, no older than fourteen.
“A healer?” Felix asked.
“He is.”
Was the man a wielder, too? It was too dark to see his eyes.
“Put that damned gun away, will ya.”
With a sharp sigh, Felix holstered the gun.
The boy stepped cautiously forward, bending to examine the wound. He was motionless for a long moment. Then, without warning, he tugged the dagger free.
“Fucking hells!” Felix cried. Pain roared in his ears, and he blinked against the sudden darkness as the boy pressed his hands over the oozing gash. Little by little, the pain receded, softening from a hot iron to a warm ember.
And then, finally, he could breathe again. Unfortunately, his shirt was ruined. Shame.
“Now,” Felix said when the boy was finished. “What exactly is this goal we share?”
A slow smile slid across Gideon’s face, crinkling the corners of his eyes.
“Justice,” the man said. “And the heads of the tyrants running this place served up on a silver fucking platter.”
After fleeing from the inn, they stepped back through another tear onto a small side street. Felix folded forward, the lingering ache from the Hollow Dark threatening to pull him down. His stomach churned, and he spat onto the street, relieved when it didn’t come out black.
Dusk was plunging quickly into night, and the air had a bite to it.
“Where do we find Gideon?” Marlow asked, her voice unsteady.
Felix straightened, swallowing hard against the rising nausea. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
“You don’tknow? Are you kidding me, Felix?”
Quick footsteps echoed down the street, and he turned just in time to see August disappear around the corner. He swore under his breath and followed.
Only a handful of people were still out on the small side street, and all of them were in a hurry. A woman dashed into a narrow townhome and slammed the door behind her.
August hadn’t made it far. He sat on folded legs, shoulders hunched. Veil walking must have been more difficult now that he was sick.
Felix rounded him and cocked his head. “That certainly didn’t work out in your favor, did it now?”
August glared up from beneath heavy lids, and Felix flinched. His eyes were black as pitch from lid to lid, and the veins had crept up over his jawline like roots.
August muttered something he couldn’t make out, probably an insult, then folded forward again.
“Get up,” Felix said. Once the goons found the room empty, they’d likely search the rest of the inn. It would buy them time, but not much. They needed to get off the streets.
“Give me a damned minute,” August shot back.
Felix folded his arms, impatiently scanning their surroundings. An unnatural quiet had fallen over the city. It felt like a held breath, still and thick with tension.
Overlapping posters covered the wall of a building across the narrow street—various laws and ordinances printed in black type with elaborate borders. Scattered among them were a handful of wanted notices with sketched faces. Felix crossed to the wall, ignoring the rest to stare at the one with his likeness. The reward had been bumped up to 200,000 caern.
“I’m a bit offended,” Marlow said as she joined him. “Your reward’s double mine.” She tore down her own poster, crumpled it, and dropped it at her feet.
Felix glanced over his shoulder to make sure August hadn’t moved, then he skimmed the other notices. The laws were endless. The registration wasn’t even the maddest of the lot.
