August glanced down at his clothing; the outfit Lottie had picked for banquet. He’d completely forgotten.
“Montgomery?” Felix pushed. “Barrymore?”
August rolled his eyes. “Gods, you are so nosy.”
“Yes,” Felix replied proudly. “Yes, I am.”
They followed the narrow street, passing around the outside of the market square, and kept walking until the sounds of the night market faded into the distance.
August tried to set aside the wielder thing, but eventually, curiosity got the better of him. “How does it work?”
“How does what work?”
August scanned their surroundings. Ahead, an elderly couple walked arm-in-arm. Otherwise, the street was empty. He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“You did a whole”—he made a wide gesture with his arms—“smoke thing. You’re a conjurer?”
A beat of silence, then Felix said, “I am.”
August had learned all about the different classifications of wielders. The controlled magics, the restricted, the prohibited. Conjurers didn’t destroy, only deceive. They weren’t seen as an immediate threat, so their power fell into the controlled category.
Felix waited for the couple to round the corner before slowing to a stop. “Want to see?”
No.“Yes.”
One more glance at the now-empty street, then a pale blue glow lit up his eyes, like wielder rings, but as wide as his irises. He extended his hand, palm down. Then, with a swift, fluid motion, he flipped it over. From the swirling black smoke, a raven materialized and soared up to perch on a streetlamp. A near-perfect replica, down to the soft feathers.
It cocked its head, and August cringed as its eerie hollow eyes landed on him.
“I hate birds. They’re creepy.”
Felix responded with an offended scoff. “Don’t listen to him, Silas. You’re not creepy.”
“He’s incredibly creepy.” August shuddered.
“You’re afraid of birds?” Felix asked, far too amused. With a flick of his hand, the raven dissolved.
“I’m notafraidof birds. I just don’t like them.”
A laugh burst from Felix’s lips.
“Shut up,” August said, stifling a smile. “Can you conjure anything?”
“Sort of. Though nothing else ever turns out as well as Silas. Not even close, really.” He grinned. “My friend Marlow says I conjure like a drunk toddler.”
“That’s rude.”
“No, that’s just Marlow. She’s nothing if not honest.”
“And the cost?” Magic always had a cost. When August used his own—he cut the thought short. He wasn’t a wielder. His ability wasn’t magic. Even if it did work the same way.
Felix shrugged. “With little things, I don’t even notice anymore. I know my limits. When I was younger, I’d push too hard, get bloody noses and splitting headaches. Even made myself pass out once trying to conjure a full person, face and all. That was a horrifying mistake I won’t make again.”
“But why abird?”
Felix laughed again. “He’ll grow on you.”
“I very much doubt that.”
