August. The officer was calling after August.
Clarity struck then, like the sharp click of a lock springing open. Aeslings Augustus and Charlotte Ellingwood. August and Lottie.
He ripped his hand back with a harsh, soundless laugh, and shot August an icy glare that made him flinch.
What a liar!Thatwas why he had used a fake name all those times. How had Felix missed it? How had he been so blind? Gods, he was such an idiot! It was so obvious!
August stood and offered a hand to help him up, but Felix swatted it away.
He pressed the loose piece of his prosthetic back together and tightened the strap, then pushed himself slowly up from the ground. Breathing was a monumental effort, each movement astruggle against the crushing weight of exhaustion. Why was he so tired?
And why was this place so quiet? He wanted to shout, to call August every curse word in his vocabulary. But he couldn’t. So, he clenched his fists at his side and settled for glowering.
August’s eyes dropped. “We need to go,” he mouthed.
Go?Felix was dead. Maybe they both were. Where would they go? This was it—just him and the vast nothingness and the liar he’d foolishly thought was his friend.
Aesling.
Felix shook his head, a motion that drained more energy than it should have. He’d confessed everything, spilled every last secret he had, and August wouldn’t even tell him who he was.
Bouncing nervously, August glanced across the empty market square. Why was he so on edge? What could possibly happen that was worse than what already had?
A single word formed on August’s lips. “Please.”
Felix folded his arms stubbornly. His nerves may have been numb, but the rage still burned hot through him. Right now, he didn’t want to do a damned thing that August asked.
With a frown, August grabbed his arm, and before Felix could wrench it free, he pointed to a trail of veins darkening beneath the skin.
Oh.
He wasn’t sure what was happening, but it didn’t look good.
“We need to go,” August mouthed again, slower this time, urgency tightening his features.
When he started forward, Felix begrudgingly followed. What else could he do? Stay behind in the terrible silence alone? Absolutely not.
They passed the edge of the square and entered a winding side street. Felix tried to keep track of where they were, but thebuildings looked so different, he was left off balance, unable to right himself.
His steps dragged as the thick air weighed him down, making the walk feel endless. How far had they gone?
They turned another corner, and Felix stopped cold.
He knew this place. Even through the strange, dense fog clouding his thoughts, he recognized it. His home.
Or what was left of it.
The sign was blank, the vines bare and brittle. The flowers in the planters were long dead. And there was no door, just a strange, swirling darkness where it should have been.
August had brought him home.
No. He didn’t want to be here. He couldn’t bear to see his ma’s face when she found out he was dead.
August’s lips worked frantically, forming silent words he couldn’t grasp.
Felix blinked, slow and heavy. His shoulders sagged. He needed to sit. To rest. He was so, so tired.
August gave him a look—eyebrows raised, eyes sharp with warning. Then, with a swipe of his hands, the air fractured, tearing open like a fresh wound, the edges shimmering with the faint pink of magic. The sound of distant, muffled music floated through.
