It was his Fallowmoor, but itwasn’t.
Wisps of smoke moved lazily through the market square. The air had turned frigid, like winter had suddenly stomped out the summer, and it carried the damp, musty smell of an ancient cellar.
The market’s buzz had vanished, leaving behind an unsettling silence heavier than any Felix had ever known, though the echoes of sound still rang in his ears—panicked screams, pounding footsteps, shouted orders.
What happened? Where were they?
The woman. She’d swung the hatchet, and then . . .
Felix gasped, the stagnant air filling his lungs as he looked down at his chest, frantically searching for where the hatchet had landed. It couldn’t have missed. It had been so close.
He was dead. That was the only explanation.
What was this place, then? He’d never bothered with religion, so he wasn’t sure what was meant to come after death. Wasn’t sure what Daeban’s realm was supposed to look like. But he’d definitely expected the Goddess of Death to offer something more thanthis.
The usual ache in his leg was gone. A welcome side effect. Actually,everyfeeling was gone. His nerves were numb, and even when he dug his nails into his palms, he felt nothing.
Death felt empty.
Death.
He was dead. The words sank in with finality, and a flood of grief washed over him. He couldn’t be dead. What about his ma? He was the only family she had left. He was supposed to keep her safe.
And Marlow. She’d be livid with him for dying on her.
What about his plans? His purpose? He’d worked so hard for so long. It was all for nothing. He’d accomplishednothing.
Felix squeezed his eyes shut.
Dead.
It wasn’t fair.
When he opened them again, August was on his knees in front of him, eyes wide, the thin silver rings around his pupils glowing brightly.
Felix stared. He couldn’t help it. August looked like he fit this place, like he belonged.
He looked . . . beautiful.
He wasn’t dead too, was he? The thought was devastating. Felix tried to ask him, but the oppressive nothingness swallowed the words.
August’s mouth moved soundlessly, but the words were clear, spelled out on his lips. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t August’s fault that he was dead. He shouldn’t feel responsible.
“It’s alright,” Felix attempted, but again the words fell silent, so he reached out and cupped August’s face in his hands. His thumb traced his cheek, then the curve of his bottom lip, but the strange numbness greedily stole the feeling.
He wished he could explain how much their time together had meant to him. August had treated him like a friend. Never demanding, never pushing.
You were wonderful,Felix thought.
August leaned into his touch, and Felix longed to know how it felt. Why had he waited until now to try?
Now it was too late. He was dead.
Aesling. The word thundered inside his head. It was the last thing he’d heard before the world went quiet. The Watch had called outaesling. Shouted it. Atthem.
Felix blinked.
