Aesling.
Her brow furrowed as she made the connection.
That lying son of a bitch.
Felix had called him Auggie. Short for Augustus. As in Ellingwood.
Heat rose in her chest.
The aesran was responsible for the suppression and execution of wielders, and Felix was flirting with her spawn? That was a new low, even for him.
He’d brought the heir aesling to the meeting place of the damned resistance. Repeatedly. He put them all in danger. Their entire mission. Did Raesarinn know? How could she not?
Marlow turned on her heel and stormed toward The Raven’s Perch. Whatever just happened, she was sure that was where they’d end up.
When he finally made it to the cottage, August burst inside and collapsed onto the chaise lounge in the sitting room. He lifted his arm, letting his sleeve fall back to reveal the sprawling black veins. They were halfway down his forearms now. It spread so much faster when he used his power.
He grabbed Lottie’s dagger from the small end table and tucked it in the sheath on his belt. The dull antique one was still in the park where he’d dropped it, but he wouldn’t miss it. He’d only brought the alternative to prevent Lottie from coming with.
August reached into his cloak pocket, searching for the tonic, but save for the strange caern, it was empty. He groaned in frustration as he pulled out the small object. He must have left the bottle at the godsdamned pub. The entire night had been a waste. All he’d done was let Felix know he was nearby.
He tossed the caern aside, and it clattered against the wooden floor.
Then again, that knowledge went both ways. Felix was in Bedwyck. Now August could . . .
With a sigh, he lay back on the stiff cushions.
Could what, exactly? He wanted Felix dead. Wanted justice. Revenge. But Felix could overpower him with a single word.
He stared up at the ceiling, studying the persistent vines that had pushed their way inside through the thatched roof.
“How’d it go?”
August sat up in a panic, his skull pounding with the beat of his galloping pulse. “Gods, Lottie,” he gasped. “Don’t do that.”
“You went, even after I asked you to wait until morning. And you left me here.” The betrayal was clear on her face, but after a pause, she softened. “Well, did you find it?”
He shook his head. “Doesn’t exist anymore.”
Her eyes dropped to the darkened veins in his arm. “They’ve gotten worse.”
“Yeah, I’m aware. Thanks.” August buried his face in his hands. The darkness was eating through him. He was dying, and it terrified him.
“So, what now?” Lottie asked.
“I don’t know.” There was nothing left to try. She knew it as well as he did. They’d searched endlessly for a solution as he’d steadily gotten worse. His imminent death was racing up to meet him, and he had no way to slow it down.
“I’m tired, Lottie,” he muttered. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”
Her hand hovered over his arm. “How did it spread so much since this morning?” she asked. “You didn’t—”
“I had to.” He yanked his sleeves down, covering the markings.
“Auggie, you can’t keep messing with the veil.”
“I ran into Felix,” he blurted.
Her eyes went round. “In Bedwyck? What’s he doing there?”
