Could they trust him? Was this a distraction? A way to get Felix to stand down?
No, the guards answered to the crown, and August was still royalty. That meant these three were on their side.
Felix stood and accepted the weapon.
“What in Daeban’s name happened here?” someone asked.
The guards whirled toward the voice, drawing their rifles.
Lark’s hand went to the bag at her hip. Gideon froze.
“Woah, easy, fellas,” he said. “We’re with them.”
Felix’s stomach lurched as he spotted Niall in Gideon’s arms, his skin raw and blistered. Was he dead?
“Marlow, we need you,” pleaded Lark. “He can’t die. I can’t lose him.”
“Aesling, can you call off your dogs?” asked Gideon.
August turned to the guards. “They helped us get here. They’re not a threat.”
“Stand down,” the youngest guard ordered, and the others obeyed.
Gideon put Niall gently on the ground. The boy was still conscious, writhing in pain. Felix rushed forward, but Marlow reached Niall first. She dropped to her knees, pressing her hands to the scorched skin on his face. Her eyes glowed red.
He watched helplessly as she drained herself. At last, Niall settled. The burns remained, but they’d eased into the pink of healing skin. His face softened, the sharp edge of pain dulled. Marlow was smart enough not to push herself to a dangerous point. He was stable and still breathing. It was enough.
Felix urged his raging heart to slow.
They were alive.
The tear was closed. Mostly. And Ashcroft was theirs. All the deaths he’d caused, all the elixirs, the lost, the ruin. He would pay for it all.
“It should be you,” Felix told Marlow, casting a pointed glance at Ashcroft. “This is your win.”
She gave a solemn nod. When Felix offered her the gun, she said, “I don’t need it.”
They crossed to where Ashcroft was bleeding out in the street, shouting demands at uninterested guards. She crouched and clamped a hand on his shoulder, shoving him flat against the ground.
He called for the guards, but they didn’t respond.
“You lied to me,” she snarled. “My entire life. You pretended to care about me. About all of us.”
“I gave you a roof,” said Ashcroft. “Offered you a home when everyone else would’ve rather seen you hang.”
“You didn’t offer us a home. You trapped us in a slaughterhouse. Kept us close like sheep waiting to be butchered. Did you feel anything when you killed them? Did you even hesitate?”
He flicked another glance at the guards. He must have accepted they weren’t going to intervene, that there was no walking away from this, because his lip curled, his expression darkening with anger.
“Of course I did,” he said. “I felt pride. Purpose. My people needed a weapon to slay monsters—so I made one.”
“We may be monsters,” said Marlow, “but it’s only because people like you made us that way.”
She flared her magic, and Ashcroft’s body convulsed, his scream a magnificent, visceral thing. Felix knew she could’ve made it quick, but he was glad she didn’t. Glad she dragged it out. Finally, the man stilled, and the market square fell silent.
Marlow stood and took a step back, her face shifting through a dozen emotions.
Felix wrapped his arms around her. “We actually pulled it off.”
