Hewasn’ta wielder. He was nothing like them. Despite the silver rings. Despite the abilities he hated with every fiber.
Felix’s expression soured. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I was only curious.”
The shift in the air was subtle, the thrumming suddenly stronger.
“I’m not offended,” August clarified. “Just not a wielder.”
Felix said nothing. Why was he so upset?
Oh.
Dread landed heavy in August’s stomach, and he forced himself to ask, “Are you?”
Felix gave a half-hearted smile and pointed lazily at his eyes. “No rings.”
The blue of Felix’s eyes seemed darker now, like the sky just before dawn, speckled with a plethora of golden stars.
August stared, mesmerised, unable to break the connection. Finally, Felix looked away.
The quiet pushed back in, heavier.
Hovering beside him now, the anchored woman leaned in, eerily close, trying to catch his attention, and it took everything August had not to react.
“My Isobel,” the woman rasped. “Is she safe?”
August clenched his teeth, irritated at the intrusion. He didn’t know her or Isobel.
Go away, he thought, fighting to keep his face steady. When she reached out to put a hand on his arm, he flinched away.
“The sun will be up soon,” Felix said, thankfully oblivious to August’s reaction. “Your cousin seemed pretty serious about you being home on time.”
“Right,” August said. “I should probably go.” He wished he could freeze time. With the start of a new day, Henry would transform back into August, and all the weight would pile back on top.
He reluctantly stood and followed through the pub.
Felix pulled the door open, leaning a shoulder against it as he offered to walk August home.
“I’ll be alright,” August answered, though the idea of walking through that door, of saying goodbye, was devastating. He glanced past Felix to the anchored woman. A thick, blackened bruise circled her oddly angled neck, and she watched him with a tight, pleading frown.
“Same time next week?” Felix asked, the air humming at his proximity. “I’m not done asking questions.”
August hesitated. “I’ll see you then.” The words cut so deep on their way out, he expected to taste blood. Because it was a lie, and he wished it wasn’t.
He couldn’t come back here. This was a goodbye, and it felt like being buried alive.
After lingering for a moment longer, August forced himself to step back onto the street, the crisp night air shaking away the last dregs of his blissful haze.
The gun’s hilt was pleasantly cool against Felix’s palm as he savoured the shock on August’s face.
So long, he’d waited for this. He’d known the aesling survived, even if Marlow insisted otherwise, and the bone-deep need to find him, to make him pay, was a constant nagging pull, burrowing into his mind, invading his dreams.
His fingers twitched, everything in him aching to pull the trigger. His restraint was slipping. August had always had that effect on him.
Not yet.
Drawing a slow, steady breath, Felix stilled his body, every muscle held in check. Movement invited mistakes. Whenever he felt like he was losing control, he divested himself of the chance to act on it. He froze. Waited. Let it pass.
He had just been handed a solution to a previously unsolvable cataclysmic problem, and he wouldn’t throw that away, no matter how gratifying it would be. As maddening as it was, they needed the aesling’smagic. Felix couldn’t kill him yet.
