“I can’t.” His muscles were weak, his body fatigued from opening it while he slept.
Lottie was gone again when he opened his eyes, and he searched for her in the darkness, his gaze landing on the window across the room. It was a way out, but the latch was old and stubborn, and it sounded like a grinding stone when it opened.
He was still weighing the risk when the bedroom door whispered open. It groaned to a stop, leaving him hidden behind it. The silent hum in the air was all too familiar. August stayed pressed to the wall, praying to all six of the gods for Felix to turn around and leave.
“Aug-gie,” Felix called, his singsong tone laced with a manic, shadowed edge.
August clasped the hilt of Lottie’s dagger hard enough to make his knuckles hurt. One quick, deep slash across Felix’s throat to sever the vocal cords before he could say a word.
The door creaked again. The moment their eyes met, he swung.
Gold flared in Felix’s eyes. “Stop,” he commanded, voice smooth as glass.
August froze, and any thoughts of fighting back scattered like fallen leaves.
“Hand it to me.”
He did as he was told.
Felix flipped the dagger around and touched the edge of the blade to August’s throat as the gold faded, releasing the hold. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at August.
“Talking to anchored now? I thought you were above that.”
August scanned the room. No sign of Lottie.
“Yeah, well, I’ve had worse company.” There was no way he’d tell Felix she was here.
Felix grinned. He looked as put-together as always, which was impressive, considering he’d been shot only hours before. He’d changed shirts, this one a sleek, rich black. The only sign of the carnage that had covered him in the park were the few stubborn splatters that still matted his light hair. He wore a dark tailcoat with a dramatic collar and a row of pewter buttons, the handles of two daggers and two flintlock pistols peeking out from the leather holster underneath.
He no longer smelled of the warm spices of The Raven’s Perch. Instead, the faint metallic scent of dried blood twisted with the crisp fragrance of the night forest.
“Oh, the things I plan to do to you, Aesling.”
August couldn’t fight him on his best days, but in this condition, he was struggling just to stay on his feet. Fear coiled tight in his gut. He didn’t want to die, but he wouldn’t beg for mercy when he knew Felix had none to offer.
“Just do it, then,” he said through gritted teeth.
Felix let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m afraid it’ll have to wait.”
He took a step back and called for Marlow.
Great. They were both here.
She appeared in the doorway a second later with a coiled rope over her shoulder, dressed in a slim jacket and form-fitting trousers, her hair just past her shoulders now, topped with a wool beret.
“I reckon I’m seeing anchored now, too,” she said incredulously. “Because you were most definitely dead.”
Felix gave her a wry look. “If I weren’t the mature, forgiving person I am, I’d say ‘I told you so’ and point out that you should really stop doubting me.”
“And this is younotsaying it?”
His mouth lifted into a wide grin. When he turned to August, it fell away.
“Hands,” he ordered.
When August only glared in response, he rolled his eyes, and the gold returned.
“Hold out your hands.”
