Chapter 4 #2
The answers were lies, or at least twisted versions of the truth, and Felix’s curiosity grew from an ember to a roaring fire.
Who was this boy and what was he so desperate to hide?
It made his fingers twitch. Made him wish he could use his magic and listen to August’s thoughts, just for a second.
All it would take was a touch, a fleeting connection.
But as much as he’d love to use his magic, he knew better.
As they reached the far end of the market square where the stalls were more scattered, August’s steps slowed, and his brow furrowed. “Is that really a thing?”
Felix followed his gaze to a woman with light hair coiled into a towering twist. She sat on a quilted blanket outside a shopfront painted the same vivid red as her lips, a sign beside her reading, “Empath Enlightenment, 5 caern.”
“Oh, that is definitely a thing,” Felix answered. “They make a killing at these festivals. More than any other wielders.”
Not that he had ever tried it. The thought of someone else having any sort of control over him made him uneasy. Even someone as harmless as an empath.
“Who would pay to have their emotions toyed with?” August asked.
A slow smile spread across Felix’s face as an idea sparked in his mind. “You would.”
If this jumpy version wouldn’t tell him who he was, maybe a calmer version would.
“What?” August took a quick step back and spat a nervous laugh. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Come on. My treat.” Felix dug five caern from his pocket, half his earnings from working at the pub earlier, and approached the woman.
“Felix,” August hissed in protest behind him.
Before the woman had a chance to greet him, Felix dropped onto the blanket, the soft fabric cushioning his weight as he sat. He adjusted his prosthetic leg—all the walking had left him aching, the cheap leather straps digging in uncomfortably—and set the money in front of her.
“Eager one, aren’t we?” the woman said, mouth tipping up. She leaned forward, her blue eyes scrutinizing him, the signature white ring of an empath around her pupils. “What would you like to feel?”
“It’s not for me,” he answered.
The woman looked past Felix. “Ah, I see. Sit.”
When August didn’t budge, Felix twisted to cast him a wry look.
“It won’t hurt,” he teased. “Just sit.”
August shifted his weight, glanced back at the crowd, then finally eased down onto the blanket, close enough for Felix to catch a trace of sandalwood and something crisp and clean, like sun-dried linen.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked.
August pressed his lips into a thin line and stared nervously at the wall behind her. “Henry.”
Why did he keep giving a fake name? Was he a runaway? Or maybe wanted by the Watch?
“A lie,” the woman said as she waved the answer away. “But it doesn’t matter. What emotion are you looking for, Henry?”
August finally looked at the woman, his jaw tight as he seemed to weigh her question.
Tension radiated from him, coiled and chaotic, and Felix was dying to know why.
He glanced down at their hands, where their fingers nearly touched on the blanket, and resisted the fresh pull of temptation to eavesdrop.
August answered the woman’s question with a shrug. “That’s not exactly a question I’ve ever been asked before.”
His fingers curled into the blanket, pulling at the bunched fabric and unintentionally drawing Felix’s hand closer. For the first time in ages, Felix didn’t trust his self-control. He pulled away before they made contact.
Stop it.
He rarely had to fight so hard. What was it about August that made it so difficult for him to control himself?
“I can offer you anything,” the woman pressed. “An hour of joy. Ecstasy. Euphoria. What do you want to feel?”
After a long moment, August replied softly, “Content would be enough.”
The choice was unimaginative, but Felix supposed it would work.
The woman’s smile brightened. “That I can do.”
She reached out and pushed back August’s dark, unruly curls, then pressed her fingertips to his temples. His body visibly tensed at the touch.
“Are you ready?” the woman asked.
August gave her a quick nod and squeezed his eyes shut.
A faint white glow shone from the empath’s rings as she called her magic forward. She used her power so openly, brazen and unapologetic, surrounded by hundreds of people. She wasn’t forced to hide it.
Envy stabbed at Felix, turning his thoughts vitriolic.
If he used his own magic, the consequences for two of the three would be swift and deadly. A fact his ma had emphasized his entire life.
You’re stronger and smarter and a hundred times more powerful than any of them, even without your magic, she always told him, so confident in the truth of the statement. You’ll change things, and they’ll never see you coming.
It was cruel and unfair. Why did those without magic get to choose which powers should be allowed? What gave them the right to decide wielders were inferior?
Those people made all the decisions, Felix reminded himself, because they held a different sort of power. Powerful names. Powerful connections. Powerful titles.
And Felix would have it too someday. He was getting there. Slowly, steadily. Even if the path was grueling, he was closer every day.
They’ll never see you coming.
The heat in Felix’s chest cooled enough to gather himself, and he focused back on the boy beside him.
The rigid set of August’s jaw had softened, and the crease in his brow faded under the woman’s gentle magic.
Her hands fell away, but August remained still like a stone.
The music swelled, soaring to a crescendo before coming to an abrupt halt as the musicians finished their piece.
A ripple of applause followed, then faded.
Only then did August’s eyes finally flutter open.
Felix studied him, evaluating. “Well?”
August’s face lit up with a smile so radiant it seemed to push back the shadows. It was the first full smile Felix had seen from him, and it sent a flutter through his chest. The bitter thoughts melted like snow under its warmth.
“Solach,” Felix muttered, amazed. If her magic had such a profound effect on August, what could it do for him? His curiosity was, as usual, a gnashing, hungry thing.
Abandoning his interrogation plan, Felix dug out the rest of his caern and dropped it onto the blanket. “My turn.”
He deserved some relief after such a terrible day.