Chapter 16
Summer had settled over Fallowmoor like a heavy blanket, leaving the air thick and damp and uncomfortably warm. August leaned on the marble balustrade of his balcony and picked idly at the loose seam of his linen robe as he watched the sun sink behind the horizon and the city below come alive.
He yearned to be down there, to be part of it. His limbs were restless, his thoughts brimming with all the possibilities that tomorrow could bring.
One more day.
Streetlamps flared to life one by one through the Crestwell District, slowly transforming the main avenue into a river of pink. Beyond that, the market square sat hidden behind buildings, the faint glow rising up to touch the muddy water coloured sky.
For the past two months, August had snuck out at the end of each week to meet Felix at The Raven’s Perch. When his mother questioned his absence, which was rare after he’d embarrassed her so deeply at the banquet, Lottie provided a cover story.
Change was uncomfortable, but this had become a routine, giving him something to look forward to. A gasping breath of fresh air before returning underground. For once, things didn’t feel hopeless. Knowing a night of freedom awaited, August could endure the weeks.
Most nights, they walked the town with Felix playing tour guide, his short attention span preventing them from lingering too long anywhere.
They visited Felix’s favorite building (besides the pub, of course).
A temple of Duin, the Goddess of Nature, with ivy carved into the stone walls and a glass ceiling that pooled moonlight across the floor.
Felix insisted more than once that he didn’t buy into religion, but the look he’d had walking through that place was something close to worship.
Felix brought him to a tiny bakery pressed against the city wall, where August tasted the best pastries of his life, and August tagged along while Felix ran errands for his mother, picking up orders from the butcher and the glassmaker.
Other nights, they stayed perched at the bar, talking over the pub’s steady buzz.
Those were August’s favourite nights.
He loved The Raven’s Perch, loved the wood-paneled walls and the beautiful paintings and the smell of delicious food and pipe smoke. He loved the warmth that Petra radiated, the way she’d always send Felix off with a kiss on the cheek.
There was a side of Felix that only emerged in the pub. His smiles seemed more authentic, and his Copperhill dialect would occasionally sneak through.
Their last night together, they’d made a game of tossing blueberries across the table, trying to catch them in their mouths. The pub had been crowded, and August missed, bouncing a particularly large berry off the back of a large man’s head.
The man called him a rude name, and August called him one back, and when the brute’s scruffy face went scarlet with anger, Felix threw an arm over his massive shoulders, offering to buy him a drink, and all was forgiven.
When Felix returned to the table, he laughed so hard that his cheeks and nose flushed red.
The thought brought a smile to August’s face.
One more day.
He slipped back inside his dimly lit bedchambers, met by the lingering floral scent from the bath he’d taken earlier.
In the shadows across the room, something moved.
August nearly jumped out of his skin, and the line of profanities that spewed from his mouth was very unbefitting of his surroundings. He ignored the expectant, withered face of the anchored and breathed a sharp exhale as he dropped into the armchair.
Callum had always been soft-spoken and kind, and after his death, he respected August’s request to be left alone.
He’d appear occasionally, like at the disaster of a banquet, but he usually kept his distance.
Now, however, he hovered in August’s bedchambers, looking like he was deciding whether to speak.
August curled his lip and glowered at the man.
Callum recoiled. “I apologize, Mo Aesling. I don’t mean to disregard your wishes, however I feel this matter necessitates my involvement.”
August didn’t speak to the anchored anymore. Even acknowledging Callum went against everything he’d worked so hard at. But the tone of his voice and the tension in his frame were disconcerting, so August smoothed his expression and forced himself to respond.
“Go on then. Say what you came here to say.” He sank back into the plush cushion, elbow propped and chin resting in his hand.
The man stood up straight, bony shoulders back and hands clasped at his front, mirroring the formal posture he’d worn when he was alive and directing the staff.
“Aesran Erynda is meeting with the commander of the ministry tonight.”
“Good for her.” August’s indifferent gaze drifted back to the city outside.
The Ministry of Arcane Compliance was a branch of specialized City Watch that worked closely with his mother to enforce laws regarding magic.
They oversaw the capture, sentencing, and containment of dangerous wielders.
A meeting between her and the commander didn’t seem out of the ordinary, even if the time of day was a little strange.
“They have been meeting often in private; the aesran, the commander, and a man I do not know. I try not to eavesdrop. It is not my place.”
“Mm-hm,” August hummed. He cared little about the details of official meetings. “What does this have to do with me?”
“She told her guard that you were to be part of this meeting.”
It felt as though August had missed a step—a sudden sharp flicker of panic that sent his stomach into his throat.
“Me? Why?”
Callum shook his head, his thin face apologetic. “I do not know, Mo Aesling. But I think it’s best for you to be away when he arrives, given the circumstances.”
If anyone could see through August’s flimsy attempt to hide his ability, it would be the man in charge of running the ministry. He’d know, and then the aesran would know.
August couldn’t meet the commander. He needed to find somewhere to hide out until the meeting was over. Somewhere safe.
“Thank you,” August whispered.
Callum offered a small smile that deepened the wrinkles on his grey face. A second later, he was gone.
Run.
August changed quickly out of his nightclothes and found Lottie in her chambers, draped sideways across her armchair with a thick book open on her lap and her hair free of its braid. Her dagger rested on the table beside her.
She looked up as he closed the door.
“When you go out tomorrow,” she said, “can you pick me up a new book from the shop? I’m nearly done with this one.”
“I’m going today.”
She smirked. “Just couldn’t wait?”
August had shared little about his outings, only minor details to satisfy Lottie’s curiosity.
He tried not to mention Felix often, and he didn’t tell her about The Raven’s Perch or the Copperhill District, afraid she might not approve of where he was spending his time.
But she always gave him that look, like she knew something he didn’t.
“Tell Felix I said hello.” Her eyes dropped back to her book.
He wasn’t sure if he should tell her about their mother’s meeting and her request for his presence.
He wanted her reassurance that the commander wouldn’t know.
That August was good enough at hiding it.
But talking to her about this would mean giving shape to the unspoken thing they kept between them.
She hadn’t brought up his ability since they were twelve, and he was grateful for it.
Did he really want to ruin that for a silly reassurance?
No, he decided.
So, he simply said, “Mother will come looking for me.”
Lottie answered without looking up. “I’ve got it covered. The tailor needed you for a fitting. You were in dire need of a fresh wardrobe.”
August hesitated. “What if she sends for me? The tailor will say you lied.”
“I doubt she’ll push the matter, but if she does, I’ll deal with it. Your secret’s safe with me, Auggie.”
That had always been true. August could never express how much it meant to have her unconditional support.
At his silence, Lottie looked up, studying him for a moment. “What’s wrong?”
He forced his expression into something softer and said, “Nothing. Just . . . thank you.”
“Thank me by giving actual details tomorrow,” she said. “I tell you about my outings. It’s only fair.”
“There really isn’t much to tell.”
“You could start by admitting that you’re smitten.”
Warmth crept into his cheeks. “I’m not. Shut up.”
She laughed. “Get out. I’m trying to read.”
She was wrong, obviously. It wasn’t like that. Smitten? Hardly. What a stupid word, anyway. He wanted to argue, to tell her how wrong she was, but he didn’t know how much time he had before his mother sent someone to fetch him.
So instead, he turned with a huff and left.
“Be home before sunrise,” Lottie called after him.
He pushed out into the hall, then rushed down the stairs and out the front doors, through the gardens and the cemetery to the temple and its knotted tree and hidden exit. Toward freedom. Toward somewhere safe. Toward Felix.