Chapter 14
Marlow took a long sip of her ale, impatiently eyeing the door and cursing Felix for making her wait.
How was he even later than she was?
The elixir creatures had forced her to take the long way around, through Bedwyck’s East Docks, and by the time she’d finally pushed through the front door of the Blackened Anchor, she was half an hour late. And still, Felix was nowhere to be found.
They’d split up hours earlier. She had items to fence, and the only place not run by the man who wanted them dead was across the river. They were supposed to meet here before heading home because a new group of creatures had overrun parts of the Blackreach District.
The elixir bred desperation, and desperate people were dangerous.
And that was before it rotted their minds.
With enough use, something in them twisted, then snapped.
They were still human, sort of, but everything that truly made them human—their empathy, their decency, their restraint—withered away.
With so many suddenly showing up in their neighborhood, Felix wouldn’t have left her to walk home on her own. So why wasn’t he here?
What had he gotten himself into?
Felix had always been unpredictable, and Marlow was plenty used to his outbursts.
When she first met him, they were eleven years old. He was a tiny, stringy thing squaring off against three boys twice his size. And losing. He clearly had no idea how to fight and was unsteady on his prosthetic leg, but he was utterly fearless.
She’d stepped in, and within seconds, the other boys fled.
Marlow knew how to fight. She also wasn’t against fighting dirty. With knowledge of the nervous system and pressure points, healing magic wasn’t just for treating cuts and bruises. It became a useful self-defense method.
She and Felix stuck together after that. She taught him how to use his small size to his advantage in a fight, though he doubled in height over the next summer. It wasn’t until a year later that she discovered the extent of his magic. That the helpless boy wasn’t helpless at all.
Shortly after, he set his new path. He refined his smile and polished his newfound etiquette, wearing it like a mask. Though the brash arrogance remained, and the fiery temper would still surface without warning.
Lately, however, he’d become a different kind of unpredictable, swinging from calm to vicious and back again in an instant. Marlow couldn’t keep up.
And now, he’d just vanished, leaving her alone in a shady pub in this shithole of a city.
Just as she was about to give up and take her chances on her own, Felix burst through the door. She didn’t have to look to know he was fuming.
Marlow kept her attention fixed on her empty drink and braced herself for what was coming.
Hotheadedness and power like his didn’t mix well.
He’d always managed to keep it mostly under control when they were younger, driven by self-preservation, but these days, most of the Watch avoided hotspots like Bedwyck.
And Felix unleashed was a dangerous thing.
Not for her, of course. He was family. But for anyone else unlucky enough to be in his proximity.
Felix drew in a sharp, pained breath as he dropped heavily into the chair beside her.
Only then did Marlow notice the blood.
“What happened?”
“What do you think?”
Her eyes dropped to the place where his hand clamped over his stomach. “You’re hurt.”
“Clearly. Would you mind?”
She stood and slid her chair close to him. “Lay flat.”
Samuel wouldn’t be happy about the mess in his pub, but he’d put up with worse.
Felix reclined across the seats, pain contorting his features. “Solach, that hurts.”
“Stop being such a baby. At least your heart’s still in your chest.”
“As always, your empathy is unmatched.”
“You want empathy, or you want healing? ‘Cause I only got energy for one.” She crouched, studying the wound. “I need to remove the bullet first, and it’s gonna hurt something fierce, so brace yourself.”
“That’s grand, I was hoping this night would get wor—” The word warped into a groan as Marlow pressed her dagger into the bullet hole. “Gods, Mar. You could at least warn me.”
“I did. Stop givin’ out.” She worked quickly, digging out the ball and dropping it into a clear glass on the table with a loud clink. “Got it.”
Narrowing her focus to her hands, she pressed her palms against his stomach.
Felix cursed as she used her power to knit the muscles and skin back together. When she was done, he blew out a long exhale and pulled himself to sitting.
“Thanks, Mar.”
“Not done yet.”
“Of course not,” he grumbled.
She grabbed his chin, angling his head to the side, and he winced as she ran a finger over each of the grooves carved in his cheek.
Thankfully, she hadn’t used her magic today, so even after the gunshot wound, she still had just enough energy to heal the marks.
Felix would’ve been devastated if she left his face marred.
Should he ever manage to claim the crown he longed for, he was certain he’d need to look the part.
Marlow, however, figured a ruler with battle scars was more trustworthy than one without.
When she finished, she gave his head a gentle shove and dropped back into her chair, depleted and lightheaded. She’d need to rest a while before she could safely manage something like that again.
Overspending was dangerous. Marlow had seen wielders laid up for days, unconscious from the strain. Push too far, and the body would simply shut down. Death was rare—a consequence for the most reckless wielders, but the risk was real.
When Felix remained uncharacteristically quiet, she turned to look at him, and he responded with an impish smile.
She sighed. “What is it?”
“I said nothing.”
“Exactly,” Marlow countered. “You’re doing that thing where you have big news, but you want to be dramatic, so you wait for me to pry you about it.”
Felix raised an eyebrow but stayed silent.
Marlow hated herself for playing along. “Come on, then. Spill it.”
“I found the aesling.”
Not this again. “Felix,” she started warily.
“Don’t Felix me.” He lifted her ale mug, glaring into it when he realized it was empty. “We need a solution, right? Well, now we have one.”
“The aesling is dead. We both saw—”
Felix flung his hand up to grab the attention of the server. She was a new hire that Marlow had never seen before, pretty in a conventional way, with soft curves and a low neckline, a scattering of freckles across her thin nose.
When she approached, Felix leaned forward, arms folded on the table, and greeted her with a slanted smile.
“Hello again,” he said, voice slipping into an almost purr.
Ridiculous.
The woman’s expression brightened, and her entire body seemed to pull toward him.
“You’re back,” she said, and Marlow internally rolled her eyes at the seductiveness in her tone. “What can I get you?”
“The fella I sent a drink to. Do you remember what he looked like?”
Disappointment dampened her features. “I do, yeah. Black hair, dirty cloak. Real jumpy.”
Marlow looked to the ceiling for patience. “That means nothing, Felix.”
He ignored her. “Did you get a look at his eyes? Can you tell me what color they were?”
“I did,” the woman responded. “They were dark grey.” Then she added with a smirk, “Like your shirt.”
Felix glanced down at his button-up and scowled. “That’s grand,” he muttered. “And did he have rings?”
The server’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, actually. Silver ones. Ain’t that strange?”
He turned to Marlow, and there was that look—the one he’d given her more times than she could count. The one that radiated, “I told you so” without having to say a word. She hated that damned look.
“Alright,” Marlow said, though she still wasn’t convinced. “So, he’s somehow still breathing. Where is he now?”
Felix’s expression dropped. “I don’t know. I was shot, remember?”
“Did he see you?”
With a sharp laugh, Felix said, “Yeah, he definitely saw me.”
“If it helps,” the woman interjected, pulling a glass bottle from her apron and setting it on the table in front of him. “He left this at the table. Not sure what it is.”
There was no label, just a dark liquid inside, but the bottle was familiar enough for Marlow to know exactly where it came from. Every apothecary had a signature style to their products, and this one, with its rust-coloured string and brown glass, came from the shop two doors down.
“Thanks a million, love,” Felix told the server, and once she was gone, he said, “I think perhaps we need to pay the Vermillion Draught a visit.”
“We’ll go after you do something about all that.” Marlow scrubbed a thumb roughly over the smear of dried blood on Felix’s cheek.
He swatted her hand away. “Lot of good that’ll do. My shirt’s wrecked.”
“I’ve got a change of clothes here. Just hold on.”
He frowned. “Since when?”
She ignored the question and headed to the bar.
When Gideon and the others left Bedwyck, Samuel agreed to let her keep a stash of supplies here, in case they ever had to stay overnight. She and Felix were on their own again, and she’d never let them be caught unprepared.
When she returned to their table and tossed the bag on top, Felix gave her a bright grin.
“What would I do without you, Mar?”
She hoped he’d never have to find out.