Chapter 17
Thoughts of the ministry and his mother swirled in August’s head as he came to a stop on the narrow street.
The boisterous chatter of patrons and the rich scent of stewed meat spilled from the pub’s open front door.
He drew in a slow breath, trying to shake the worries loose.
They didn’t belong here. The two worlds had to stay separate.
For the few hours he was with Felix, that other life, those other concerns, they were somebody else’s problems. Not his.
A planter with yellow blossoms swayed from a hook beside the door, and vines studded with white blooms climbed the narrow pub’s exterior.
Tipping his head back, he studied the sign that jutted out above the entrance: The Raven’s Perch printed in bold black letters on wood, with the flat silhouette of a raven perched atop its iron bracket.
August may have hated birds, but the name’s origin compensated for it.
“Ma named it after Silas,” Felix had told him one night as they split a piece of blackcurrant pie.
“Or I guess after me, really.” His formality had fallen away, and he sat comfortably in the booth, eyes heavy-lidded, light hair messy from swiping it back as he cooked.
“It’s like I’m ingrained in the structure itself. Like I’m part of something, ya know?”
Now, August let his other life fade into the background of his mind, and as he stepped inside, the chatter and the warmth of the packed room enveloped him completely.
He pressed through a group loitering near the door, scanning for Felix on his way to the bar.
Petra looked up from her current conversation, a warm smile illuminating her face.
“Henry! How are ya, love? Has it been a week already?”
“I’m a day early. Is Felix here?”
“He and Mar are upstairs.” She nodded toward the staircase at the back of the room. “Go on up. And tell him I’m not paying him for the last hour, since he just up and left. Gods love him, if he weren’t my son, I’d fire him.” There was no heat in the threat, and her smile never faltered.
“I’ll tell him.”
August weaved through the patrons and started up the rough wooden stairs. He’d never seen Felix’s flat, and it felt like a strange intrusion wandering up here on his own.
The walls were the same mahogany paneling, with paintings that mirrored the ones downstairs; rolling green hills, dense forests, coastal scenes with jagged cliffs.
He scanned them as he followed the narrow hallway, pausing at one that stood out from the rest. Like the others, it was a landscape.
A sweeping rocky beach, the ocean caught mid-swash.
But unlike the rest, this one had people: a man with reddish-brown hair tied at the nape of his neck, and a small, light-haired boy whose smile was unmistakably Felix.
Tucked into the corner, written in slanted cursive, were the words for my two loves, together in my dreams.
Did that mean Petra painted these?
He took a step back, examining the art in a new light. She was an artist, and a talented one at that.
Muffled voices spilled from one of the rooms.
“ . . . for two days. Your ma said . . . ”
“ . . . wouldn’t know,” Felix responded. “We’ll go . . . ”
August continued down the hall, straining to hear.
“She knows more than you give her credit for, Felix.”
“Most of them were from Hatha House. Have you asked Ciaran?”
“Course I have. More than once. He thinks I’m overreacting.” A pause. “I have to find Aine. I know something’s wrong. She’d never leave without telling me.”
“I know. I’m with you.”
A floorboard creaked beneath August’s boot.
Somewhere between one step and the next, Felix appeared in the mouth of the hallway, eyes glinting an odd gold in the lamplight, the order to stop sent toward August like a gunshot.
The air rippled around the single word like a pebble disrupting a tranquil pond.
His feet came to an abrupt stop. His entire mind could focus only on that word, that order. Of course he would stop. He wanted nothing more—would never want anything more.
“Gods,” Felix breathed. “You scared the hells out of me.” In a blink, the gold in his eyes vanished, and August’s thoughts rushed back over him like a wave, leaving him disoriented and his head tingling like a sleep-numbed limb.
A small line formed between Felix’s eyebrows as his expression tightened. “I’m so sorry.” The fear in his voice unsettled August more than whatever weird thing had just happened.
Marlow stood at his side, dressed in a black frock coat, pants tucked into knee-high boots. She folded her arms, and they both watched August like they were waiting for something.
Finally, August gathered himself enough to form a coherent sentence. “What was that?”
“I thought someone had broken in,” Felix explained, raking a hand through his hair. “It was a knee-jerk reaction. With everything going on, I’m a bit jumpy, I guess.”
Understanding hit, knocking August back a step.
He hadn’t actually wanted to stop moving. Felix had made him.
Compulsionists are the most dangerous of wielders, his tutor’s words echoed in his head. They can bend you to their will, make you do terrible things. Make you hurt others, or even yourself.
Fear clawed at him, scraping and gouging at his insides.
No, that couldn’t be right. Felix was a conjurer. He had a harmless magic, not a dangerous one. Not a prohibited one.
“Hope your trust in this one’s justified,” Marlow said dryly. “Hate to have to kill him. Bodies are a fierce pain to carry.”
August’s heart stuttered. “What?”
“Marlow,” Felix chided. “Not the time for jokes.”
She snorted. “Who’s joking?”
Felix took a careful step forward, hands out as if trying to soothe a frightened animal. “I didn’t mean to. I swear. I would never…I don’t ever—”
“I’m early,” August blurted, retreating a step to keep the space between them.
“Yeah, I see that.”
August’s next words poured out in a steady stream. “You weren’t downstairs your mother sent me up I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I need to go. I forgot, I have a…” The sentence fell away as he fumbled for an excuse. None surfaced. His thoughts were a tangled jumble.
Pinpricks crawled up his fingers as everything inside him screamed to run.
“Please, Auggie. Just let me explain. Then if you still want to leave, I won’t stop you.”
He could, though. He could force him to stay.
The most dangerous of wielders.
He was more of a threat than the monster with glowing pink eyes who had burned the royal guard alive.
How could Felix keep this from him? Did August even know him at all? What else was he hiding?
Get out.
Despite the screaming in his head, his feet remained stubbornly rooted to the spot. If he ran away, left it like this, he’d never see Felix again. He’d return to his previous empty, suffocating existence.
The thought of losing this, of losing Felix, was more terrifying than any risk he was taking by staying. How could he breathe without the anticipation of these visits?
“Five minutes,” August said finally, his voice unsteady.
Felix’s face softened, mouth tipping into a half-hearted smile. “Thank you.”
Marlow’s eyes narrowed. “Auggie? I thought your name was Henry.”
“It’s short for Henry,” Felix responded blithely. “Meet me downstairs?”
“Call me if you need help removing a body,” she said before pushing past them to the stairs.
“Come with me.” Felix headed down the hall, and when he realized August wasn’t following, he stopped and cast him an expectant look. “You’ve got questions, right?”
August scoffed. “Yeah, you could say that.”
“I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but you have to trust me.” Still, August stayed put, so he added, “I will never use that on you again. I promise.”
Their eyes held for a long moment until, finally, August followed.
Felix led him to a bedroom half the size of his closet back home. It was cozy and warm in a way the castle could never be. A small bed was pressed against the far wall, and thin curtains covered the single window. August stayed in the doorway, and the bed creaked as Felix dropped onto it.
“Come sit.”
“No.”
“Fine, stay—”
“You’re a compulsionist,” August said, cutting him off.
“Charmer has a nicer ring to it.” Felix paused, then added, “Yes.”
August’s stomach lurched. It was one thing to suspect the truth, another entirely to hear it confirmed.
Silence settled over them, heavy and thick as stew.
Say something.
“So, you can just . . . ” His brow furrowed as he thought. “You can charm anyone into doing anything? Into giving you whatever you want?”
“It’s not that simple,” Felix answered quietly. “You felt what happens. It’s not subtle. So, yeah, I could use it to get anything I want. I could be rich, rolling in caern for a couple glorious minutes. But it’s not worth what would follow.”
Execution. That was what would happen if the Watch found out he’d used prohibited magic.
Was this the first time Felix had used it on him?
August pressed his back to the door frame. He thought back over the time they’d spent together, trying to remember if he’d ever noticed that tingling in his head before. Was everything he felt based on a lie?
The air always seemed to vibrate around Felix, a constant, low hum, but this was a different sensation. It felt like the tingling in August’s fingertips when his own abilities fought to break free. He would have noticed that.
“No, I’ve never used it on you before,” Felix said, answering the question he hadn’t asked.
August frowned.
“It was written all over your face. You’re very easy to read.” Felix let out a small, unsteady laugh. “Relax, it’s not like I read your thoughts, Auggie.” He dropped his gaze to his lap, and after a moment, he added, “But I could.”
August waited for some sign that it was a joke, but Felix only shrugged.
“I’ve never used that on you, either.”
“You . . . I don’t—” What was he saying?
Felix looked up, searching his face. “You already know about one outlawed power. Kind of pointless to keep secrets now.”