As they continued on, Felix stuffed his hands in his pockets, his steps unhurried, and slowly, August let himself relax.
“Where were you headed all dressed up?” Felix asked.
“I was at a dinner party.”
“And you left before sundown to come to the pub? Why? What changed your mind?”
“About the party?”
“About me.”
August paused, realizing he didn’t have an answer. Whyhadhe ended up at The Raven’s Perch? He could’ve simply hidden out in the gardens or the temple. Nobody would’ve found him. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
He could feel Felix’s eyes on him as they walked, so to avoid looking, he lifted his gaze to the buildings pressing in against the narrowing street. The brownstones had shifted to soot-covered russet brick, the cobblestones beneath their feet caked with mud. In an open doorway, two women with hunched shoulders watched them pass.
“Where are we going?” August asked.
“You’ll see.”
He peered through a shattered window as they passed a dilapidated building. “Does that promise to not murder me still stand?”
Felix smirked. “We’ll see how the night goes.”
They stopped at a food stand tucked beneath an awning along a road lined with tenement buildings. The heavyset man greeted Felix by name, and after an excruciating amount of small talk, handed them each something wrapped in thin paper already soaked through with grease.
When August tried to peel it open, Felix said, “Not yet.”
They walked another block before Felix, without warning, veered toward a building that dominated an entire corner.
Laughen & Son’s Shippingwas painted directly onto the soot-darkened brick, the huge letters faded. The five-story structure loomed overhead, a few of the windows boarded over, a pulley jutting from its side. Neat stacks of barrels flanked the two massive wooden doors reinforced with iron bands.
Felix pushed one open and shot August an expectant look.
This was stupid. He’d just learned that Felix was a wielder, that he hadn’t been honest. Now they were in a scary part of the city he’d never seen before, and he was expected to follow this boy he barely knew into an abandoned building?
“You could wait out here,” Felix said. “Though, I don’t recommend it. Especially dressed like that.”
He shrugged and disappeared inside.
August scanned the street nervously, weighing his options. He couldn’t see the castle from here. Even if he wanted to go home, he wouldn’t know which direction to go.
Finally he cursed and followed through the door.
Inside was a wide, open space with wooden planks stacked along one wall and crates piled against another, illuminated only by the glow of a streetlamp filtering through the windows. The floorboards were scarred from years of heavy cargo, and the stale air smelled of lumber and old tea.
Felix led the way up a broad set of stairs, bypassing the second, third, and fourth floor until they reached the top. He crossed the space and lowered himself carefully onto the floor in front of a full-length window with no glass, then glanced back at August. “Not afraid of heights, are you?”
August shrugged. “Not really.” He noted the gap Felix had left between him and the windowsill. “Are you?”
“I am yeah,” Felix replied, unwrapping the greasy paper. Whatever it was, it smelled incredible. “Well, it’s more the idea of plummeting to my death than the height itself.”
August sat, feet dangling out into the cool night air. He unwrapped his own parcel, took a bite, and couldn’t help the sound that escaped him. Pork, tender and juicy, seasoned to perfection, the outside crispy and deep fried and dripping with grease.
After another bite, he asked, “Why come up here then?”
Felix motioned to the city spread out below them. “For the view. The scariest things are often the most worthwhile.”
“You sound like Lottie.” August stared out at the crooked rooftops and chimney stacks, following the winding streets. His eyes widened. “We’re in the Copperhill District.” What wouldLottie say if she knew he’d wandered this far? He doubted she’d ever been here. It was a nice thought, that he’d finally done something she wasn’t brave enough to do. Even if it was unintentional.
