Her eyes dropped to the place where his hand clamped over his stomach. “You’re hurt.”
“Clearly. Would you mind?”
She stood and slid her chair close to him. “Lay flat.”
Samuel wouldn’t be happy about the mess in his pub, but he’d put up with worse.
Felix reclined across the seats, pain contorting his features. “Solach, that hurts.”
“Stop being such a baby. At least your heart’s still in your chest.”
“As always, your empathy is unmatched.”
“You want empathy, or you want healing? ‘Cause I only got energy for one.” She crouched, studying the wound. “I need to remove the bullet first, and it’s gonna hurt something fierce, so brace yourself.”
“That’s grand, I was hoping this night would get wor—” The word warped into a groan as Marlow pressed her dagger into the bullet hole. “Gods, Mar. You could at least warn me.”
“I did. Stop givin’ out.” She worked quickly, digging out the ball and dropping it into a clear glass on the table with a loud clink. “Got it.”
Narrowing her focus to her hands, she pressed her palms against his stomach.
Felix cursed as she used her power to knit the muscles and skin back together. When she was done, he blew out a long exhale and pulled himself to sitting.
“Thanks, Mar.”
“Not done yet.”
“Of course not,” he grumbled.
She grabbed his chin, angling his head to the side, and he winced as she ran a finger over each of the grooves carved in his cheek. Thankfully, she hadn’t used her magic today, so even after the gunshot wound, she still had just enough energy to heal the marks. Felix would’ve been devastated if she left his face marred. Should he ever manage to claim the crown he longed for, he was certain he’d need to look the part. Marlow, however, figured a ruler with battle scars was more trustworthy than one without.
When she finished, she gave his head a gentle shove and dropped back into her chair, depleted and lightheaded. She’d need to rest a while before she could safely manage something like that again.
Overspending was dangerous. Marlow had seen wielders laid up for days, unconscious from the strain. Push too far, and the body would simply shut down. Death was rare—a consequence for the most reckless wielders, but the risk was real.
When Felix remained uncharacteristically quiet, she turned to look at him, and he responded with an impish smile.
She sighed. “What is it?”
“I said nothing.”
“Exactly,” Marlow countered. “You’re doing that thing where you have big news, but you want to be dramatic, so you wait for me to pry you about it.”
Felix raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.
Marlow hated herself for playing along. “Come on, then. Spill it.”
“I found the aesling.”
Not this again. “Felix,” she started warily.
“Don’tFelixme.” He lifted her ale mug, glaring into it when he realized it was empty. “We need a solution, right? Well, now we have one.”
“The aesling is dead. We both saw—”
Felix flung his hand up to grab the attention of the server. She was a new hire that Marlow had never seen before, pretty in a conventional way, with soft curves and a low neckline, a scattering of freckles across her thin nose.
When she approached, Felix leaned forward, arms folded on the table, and greeted her with a slanted smile.
