Chapter 17 #2
The realization startled a laugh from August, sharp and loud—a nervous, involuntary response. Terror twisted in his gut, and he gripped the doorframe hard enough to make his fingers ache. It was the only thing holding him in place, keeping him from bolting.
“You’re a listener.”
“I am.”
“And a charmer. And a conjurer.”
“Yes.”
“No, you’re not!” August blurted.
Felix didn’t respond, and the room tipped violently, the ground beneath August’s feet wobbling.
Dual-wielders were already rare.
“That’s not possible. Triple-wielders don’t exist.”
Felix shrugged again. “And yet, here I am.”
If wielders were destruction and chaos, then someone like Felix . . .
Gods, what had he gotten himself into? This was all too much.
Did Petra know?
Parents of children with prohibited magic were required to report them to the ministry. They were supposed to be placed under strict monitoring—watched for any breach of the law. There was no way they knew about Felix and still allowed him this much freedom.
If Petra knew, she’d broken the law by not reporting him.
One word to the Watch about what just happened, and Felix would be arrested. Executed. And Petra would likely share his fate.
Felix stared intently at the floor, unmoving. It was odd to see him look so vulnerable. Like peeking behind a curtain.
Sure, he was dangerous, but so was the knowledge that August now held. Felix was trusting him to keep this secret and that felt so big, so important, that everything inside August ached.
He knew what it was like to have secrets. How much it meant to have someone care enough to keep those secrets.
Felix hadn’t been honest with him, but August had no right to judge him for that. He had no intention of sharing his own secrets. Ever.
Besides, Felix had only used his magic because August startled him. He was clearly worked up over whatever he and Marlow were talking about. He’d promised not to use the compulsion again.
What about listening? How did it work? Felix said he didn’t use it on him. Could he control it?
August thought back to his lessons, all the cautionary information he’d been taught.
Listeners’ powers varied greatly. Though it was rare, some listeners were able to pick up thoughts without even having to make contact.
He forced himself to ask. “Can you hear my thoughts right now?” The possibility made him nauseous.
“No,” answered Felix. “I’d have to touch you and really focus. I can’t mess with your memories, either.”
But August assumed as much. Listeners with that ability were nearly nonexistent.
The only one he’d ever heard of was during the last war; Vastrad’s latest in a long history of annexation attempts.
They had sent the listener to clear information from behind enemy lines, leaving the soldiers useless.
Unlike Atheran, Vastrad used their wielders like weapons, treated them like slaves.
They benefited from their dangerous magic, and it had almost won them the war.
August stood in silence, wrestling with his thoughts as Felix sat patiently, allowing him the space he needed to do so.
He should leave. He knew that. But if he did, all of this would be over.
Though it was a foolish and reckless decision—the type that he was certainly not accustomed to making—August settled onto the bed, resigned to staying.
Still, Felix said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.
August’s gaze slid slowly over the room, taking in the little details.
A pile of worn books sat precariously on the edge of an old dresser with titles that included words like history and politics and other subjects that would surely put August to sleep.
A medal of some sort hung from a crooked nail, and trinkets lined a shelf, dust-covered but thoughtfully placed in a perfect line.
Everything about the room was an extension of Felix, like this place was so fully his that he could meld into it and become an inseparable part of the décor. It even smelled like Felix—the faint scent of herbs and hearth smoke. He belonged to it as much as it belonged to him.
August had never had somewhere like that; a place that felt completely his. He felt like an intruder in his own room, hiding his trinkets out of sight.
This place was so full of love that it oozed from every crack in the wall. It was no wonder Felix radiated warmth. He was surrounded by it, soaked in it every day.
“A triple-wielder,” August said finally, mostly to himself. It was amazing, really, in an odd, terrifying way, what Felix was. What he could do. “As if you weren’t incredible enough.”
His mouth snapped shut, and heat rose in his cheeks. Had he really just said that out loud?
Felix looked up, a bright smile illuminating his face. “You think I’m incredible?”
“I-I didn’t…” August stammered, his thoughts tripping over each other on their way out.
“You-I just…this place is nice. Paintings…I love the paintings.” Gods, he was hopeless.
He forced a shrug that felt anything but casual as Felix watched him, unblinking.
Scrambling for an escape, August asked, “What were you and Marlow talking about?”
Felix’s face sobered at the reminder. “Some wielders have gone missing. She thinks they were taken, and I’m starting to wonder if maybe she’s right.”
“Taken? To where?”
“We can’t figure that part out. It’s been happening for months, and now one of our closest friends left for work yesterday morning and never came home.”
“Have you gone to the Watch?”
Felix studied him for a moment before saying, “You’re serious.” When August frowned, unsure how to respond, he scoffed and said, “They’d probably track down whoever’s responsible just to thank them for getting rid of us. They’ve been plenty eager to do it themselves.”
But that couldn’t be right. The Watch were meant to uphold the laws. For everybody. If people were missing, they’d help.
“Anyway,” Felix said, pushing off the bed. “Now that all that’s out in the open, no more secrets?”
Guilt sliced through August. Everything he’d told Felix from the moment they met had been a lie. And that wouldn’t—couldn’t—change, even if he wanted it to.
“No more secrets,” August said, adding to the list of lies.
“Right, then. Let’s go find Marlow.”