The memory of his ma’s worried face returned to him. The black sludge he’d vomited onto the floor. The cold rag against his head.
Silence fell back over them. He let it linger for only a moment before turning to face August. If he wasn’t going to bring it up, Felix would.
“So, Aesling.” He didn’t miss the way August flinched at the title. “Any other massive lies you’d like to come clean about?”
His eyes finally met Felix’s, his mouth turned down, brow furrowed. “I didn’t lie.”
The fact that he answered the question withanotherlie drew a bitter laugh from Felix. “I don’t remember you mentioning that you’re royalty. Gods, August, I think I’d remember that.”
“Omission isn’t the same as a lie.”
“Yes, it is!” Felix was shouting now, his voice cutting through the silence of the pub, and he took a deep breath to calm himself.
He knew he had every right to be angry, but he couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t done the same thing, used the same loophole to keep his magic a secret. August finding out was a complete accident, not a trusted confidence.
“Fine, alright,” he said evenly. “I never specificallyaskedif you were the heir to the fucking throne, so I suppose you didn’t lie aboutthat. Technically.” He leveled a cool look at August. “However, I absolutely asked if you were a wielder, and you said no.Thatwas a lie.”
“I’mnota wielder,” August answered without missing a beat, his nose wrinkled like the idea disgusted him.
“You tore a hole in the fabric of the world and stepped through like it was a damned doorway.”
August shook his head. “It’s not magic. It’s a curse.”
“Oh, shut up,” Felix retorted, looking to the ceiling for patience. “I don’t care what you call it. I don’t care that you’re so ashamed of being lumped with people like me that you refuse to accept what you are. You lied, and you know it.”
August didn’t bother to argue, and they drained their mugs without another word.
Of course August hated wielders. He was royalty. It was in his blood. And of course he’d hate the idea of being like them. Nobody played at hateful piousness like the nobility.
And Felix was used to people assuming they were better than him. It was nothing new.
So why did this feel different? Why did it feel so personal? Why did it eat at him with the ferocity of a starved dog?
Then again, everything about August felt different. He knew Felix—actuallyknewhim, secrets and all. So that self-righteous look on his face, itwaspersonal.
Felix traced a finger over the brim of his mug to pick up the last traces of chocolate, then brought it to his mouth, savouring the taste as he studied August, gaze sliding from his tired eyes tothe cloth apron at his waist. He looked even better like this than he had in his fine waistcoat. Felix, however, was in a bitter mood, and picking fights had always been his most ready response.
“You look ridiculous in that thing.”
August smoothed the apron with a swipe of his hand. “That’s simply untrue. I look adorable.”
He was right, of course.
“I’ve never worn an apron before,” he added. “I quite like it.” The slight lift at the corners of his lips was disarming, and Felix had to focus to keep his expression stubbornly set.
He wasn’t ready to let go of his anger.
But before he could take another jab, August added, “Plus, there’s room for snacks!” He pulled two green olives from the pocket. The almost-smile grew into a full one, and just like that, the fight drained from Felix.
“Alright, well, the enthusiasm is helping.” He tilted his head, eyeing August appreciatively. “The apron’s growing on me.” He took the olive and popped it in his mouth. “But you’re still a liar.”
The smile vanished, and August dropped onto the stool beside him.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “For not telling you.”
“Are you really, though?”
August frowned thoughtfully. “I mean, if we had to start all over, I would for sure do it again because what else was I supposed to do? But I truly am sorry about it.”
