Chapter 19
“I already questioned the vendors last night,” Marlow said as they reached the night market. “As usual, they were ‘bout as helpful as a healer in a graveyard. But maybe someone’s heard something since.”
“I think you’re asking the wrong people.” Felix swiftly sidestepped to avoid a collision with a hunched man who seemed oblivious to his surroundings. When he rejoined Marlow, he flicked an irritated glare over his shoulder.
Head down, the man brushed past a distracted August before slamming into the shoulder of a red-haired woman, sending bundles of silks and velvets flying from her hands. He didn’t so much as flinch. The woman scolded him as she crouched to gather them, but the man pressed on, unfazed.
The way he moved, the complete lack of reaction—something about it felt profoundly unnatural. It made Felix’s skin crawl.
“Alright then, Felix. Tell me. Who should I be asking?”
He turned his attention back to her and the matter at hand. “The ones privy to information beyond the scope of those you’ve already asked.”
She grimaced as she understood. “Why would the nobles give a damn about missing wielders?”
“Oh, they wouldn’t. But they’re quite fond of gossip.
” He’d gathered his share of dark secrets spilled over drinks.
Rumors blurted out behind closed doors. He had enough dirt to blackmail someone in nearly every noble house in Fallowmoor, should the need ever arise.
People underestimated him; figured he could be easily silenced by lush promises or threats of violence before being sent on his way.
“One of them must have heard something.”
He considered his options. August was a noble, or at least upper-class enough, but he was from out of town, and he didn’t seem like the gossiping type.
Perhaps his cousin? Though the girl clearly didn’t like Felix much.
Sarah would be a better option, but he dreaded opening that door again after so delicately sealing it shut.
He glanced back to check on August, who had veered toward a market stall. “Where is he going?”
“Would hate to lose your puppy,” grumbled Marlow, motioning for Felix to go after him.
With a wry smile, Felix said, “Be nice, Mar.”
“I’m always nice.”
They caught up to August at a pancake stall, watching with wide eyes as the woman poured a mixture onto a sizzling cooktop.
Agatha had worked the night market since Felix was a kid and had no problem serving wielders, unlike some vendors. She watched everyone like a hawk, and yelled at kids for being rowdy near her stall.
Marlow stepped forward, folding her arms on the edge of the stall. “Hey Agatha. Any news?”
“Same answer as last night. I don’t keep track of your friends, Eoin.”
Marlow winced at the name, but when Felix stepped forward with a bitter retort ready, she put her hand out to stop him.
“Now,” Agatha continued, “you keep crowding up my stall just to ask me questions every night, I’m gonna start charging.” She scooped the pancakes into a cone made from old newspapers.
After a quick, curious glance at Marlow, August placed three caern in the woman’s open hand and took the cone.
Marlow sighed and gave Felix a grudging look before pushing away from the stall. “Alright,” she muttered. “Try it your way. I’m going home to see if Ciaran’s back yet. Maybe he’s heard something.”
Aine’s disappearance felt different from the rest. Wielders moved on, and Felix could justify it.
But unlike the others, Aine wasn’t at the shelter because of some sudden stroke of bad luck or because she was struggling to get by and needed a place to stay for a while.
Like Marlow, she loved Hatha House. She had a job.
Friends. She was happy. To think that she’d just leave without a goodbye was beyond anything he could put logic to.
This was starting to feel big, and the need for answers was becoming a nagging tug, impossible to ignore.
“We’ll meet you at the fountain in an hour,” Felix said.
Marlow stole a pancake from the cone, then spun and disappeared into the crowd.
“Keep your eye out for Lady Farrows,” Felix told August. “She and her friends are regulars at the night markets.”
After shoving a pancake in his mouth and mumbling what Felix assumed was an agreement, he straightened abruptly, gaze cutting to the side. Something flickered in his expression that looked an awful lot like fear.
Felix followed his line of sight to the narrow mouth of a small side street.
“What’s wrong? What are you looking at?”
August snapped his attention back. “Nothing.”
It was a lie, of course. Always lies. The sideways glances at nothing, the brief tension in his expression. It was a regular thing with August, and Felix was getting tired of waiting for him to explain.
He knew he should drop it. He’d learned not to push the nobles, knew how awful the consequences could be. August may not have fit any of the categories, but Felix wasn’t sure if that was comforting or concerning.
Still, he couldn’t shake the furious curiosity.
“This whole mystery thing was fun for a while, but I’m beginning to take it as an insult. We agreed no more secrets, but you’re clearly hiding something. What is it?”
August scowled. “Why are you so focused on me? You’re supposed to be looking for your missing friend.”
Felix snatched the cone from August’s hand and jabbed it at him. “I’m not letting this go.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” August spat.
Felix stuffed the last pancake in his mouth and tossed the newspaper aside. He grabbed the front of August’s jacket and dragged him from the bustle of the night market toward the spot where his eyes kept straying.
“You know enough about me to have me executed,” Felix hissed as he released August. “And yet you refuse to tell me a damned honest thing about yourself.”
“I’ve told you plenty.”
“You haven’t.”
“I think you’re putting too much weight on me being interesting,” August said. “But I’m not.”
Frustration flickered through Felix, the warm heat of buried anger. “What are you hiding?”
“There’s nothing. I’m not hiding anything.”
A familiar laugh pricked Felix’s ears.
Focus. Aine is missing.
He scanned the crowd and found Lady Sarah Farrows with a group of socialites, cooling herself with a lace fan.
“Fine, keep your secrets then,” he told August before storming away.
He swallowed back his irritation, settled his expression, then slid up beside her.
Sarah’s face brightened at the sight of him. She closed her fan with a flick of her wrist and put her hands on her hips.
“Felix Connolly. I haven’t heard from you in months.”
“Lady Farrows. I have missed you dearly.” He offered her a gentle smile, then spared the rest of the group a quick glance. “May I speak with you in private?”
“Of course. Just give me a moment.” Sarah turned to one of the girls and said something too quiet to hear.
With a grin, the other girl ran her hands over Sarah’s hair, and the blonde locks seemed to glow with a newfound vibrancy beneath her touch, like golden silk.
“Much better,” the other girl stated, prompting giggles from the rest.
Felix’s mouth fell open. There was no way he’d seen that right.
But as Sarah turned, he stared at the glaring proof. The girl had used magic. Not only that, but prohibited magic. In the middle of a crowd. And none of them batted an eye.
“Alright,” Sarah said cheerfully. She handed the girl her fan, then looped her arm through his. They broke away from the group, and Felix drew them to a stop once they were out of earshot.
“My house is empty,” she said. “You’re coming with me.”
As Sarah slid in close, the cloying, sweet scent of her perfume hit Felix in a wave, and he took a hasty step back, his stomach twisting.
Was she really going to ignore what had just happened?
She frowned. “What’s the matter?”
“Your friend,” he started, keeping his voice low as to not be overheard. “She just used magic, and you didn’t bat an eye. I thought you didn’t trust wielders.”
Sarah’s expression softened. “Ah, that.” She smoothed her hair. “Angela’s not a wielder, Felix.”
“I saw her.”
“Don’t worry, love.” She stepped back into Felix’s space and cupped his face in both hands. “It’s only temporary magic.”
He wrenched back. “Temporary magic?”
“You’ve been around wielders plenty,” Sarah said impatiently. “Their eyes glow when they use their magic, right?”
He met her expectant look with a frown, and when she accepted he would not play along, she went on.
“Hers didn’t glow. She’s not a wielder.”
Nothing she was saying made any sense. “I don’t understand. What do you mean, temporary magic?”
She leaned in and lowered her voice. “There’s a new elixir. It’s very exclusive.” A sly smile lifted on her face, her expression conspiratorial. “It lets Baellasborn use magic.”
Felix felt the ground drop out from beneath him.
Nonwielders using magic?
For a moment, he was left off balance, unsteady. Then anger kicked in. White hot and all-encompassing.
Memories he’d worked so hard to suppress threatened to break back through, slamming against his walls in vivid flashes.
Elise’s execution, his darkened leg, black eyes and bitter insults and bites hard enough to break skin.
He knew exactly the sort of atrocities nonwielders were capable of, especially the nobility, so why was he so surprised by this one?
Felix threw her a contemptuous look. “You’re stealing magic?”
The accusation made her recoil, the smile wiped from her face in an instant.
“I’m sorry?” she snapped bitterly, pushing back her shoulders and lifting her chin. “I am doing nothing of the sort. I’ve never used it. And anyway, it’s just for fun. Nobody’s stealing anything. Angela’s father paid good money for that elixir.”
“Where did he buy it?”
“Oh, Felix.” Sarah pinched her lips, her head cocked to one side. “I don’t think you can afford—”
“Where?” he snarled.
Her expression turned venomous, the thing he’d witnessed in glimpses finally surfacing. Her next words came out low and soaked in anger. “You forget yourself, Felix Connolly. You do not speak to me that way. I am above you, and I can make your life miserable. You’d do well to remember your place.”
The last three words hit Felix like a slap, and he clamped his jaw shut as they reverberated through his entire body.
Easy, Felix. Head down, don’t push.
This was too important, and he’d ruin any chance of getting the information they needed if he couldn’t control his temper.
He drew in a breath and settled his practiced manners back in place, even though it made him want to vomit all over her pretty shoes.
“Please, Lady Farrows,” he said, head bowed, “it is of the utmost importance that I find out where your friends are buying these elixirs.”
He expected her to make him grovel for forgiveness. It wouldn’t have been the first time one of them had.
Instead, she let out a huff, still looking utterly offended, and answered, “The Gilded Mortar on 5th Street.”
Felix spun on his heel and left without another word, relieved when he found August waiting nearby, watching with his usual frown. He didn’t want to do this alone.
“What—” August started to ask, but Felix stormed past. His control was fracturing, and he couldn’t breathe. He needed to get away from the crowds.
Despite the uneven cobblestones jarring his leg and threatening his balance, Felix didn’t slow until the din of the night market had faded enough to hear his own thoughts.