Chapter 57
August’s heart was in his throat as he dragged himself to sitting.
“Augustus?”
Felix fumbled with the token. “How do I turn it off?”
Marlow threw out her hands. “I don’t know!”
August stared at the glowing caern. His mother could hear him. He could tell her where they were, and she’d send someone to take him home.
No. He didn’t want to speak to her. He didn’t want to go back to the castle. He shoved away that ingrained impulse, the need to reach for family, for something familiar and solid. She wasn’t his family anymore. She probably wanted nothing to do with him.
But when his mother spoke again, the cold detachment he’d come to know was gone, replaced by a warm, genuine concern.
“I thought you were dead. Where are you? Are you coming home?”
Something in August cracked.
She was worried about him. His mother was worried. Even now, even knowing what he was.
Maybe he was wrong. Maybe she could accept him, despite everything. He could be this and still be loved. She knew. She knew everything. And she was worried about him.
In that moment, he ached for everything—the castle, his room, his life—with a fierceness that stole his breath.
“I’m already here!” August blurted. Marlow lurched forward and tackled him backward. “I’m in Fallowm—”
She clamped a hand over his mouth, cutting off the rest.
But it was too late.
“Where, Augustus? I’ll send—” The connection cut off mid-sentence.
“You spineless little shite,” Felix growled, shoving up from the ground and flinging the token away with a sharp flick of his hand.
August pushed Marlow away.
“Oh, I’m sorry, Felix,” he spat, the words bitter and laced with venom as he rose shakily to his feet. “Was I supposed to just wait around for you to shoot me a third time?”
Felix drew his gun, leveling it between August’s eyes. “You won’t have to wait.”
“Both of you shut up,” Marlow snapped. “Felix, I am too damned tired to heal him right now. Put the gun away.”
Felix’s eyes shifted to her, their glares holding for a long moment before he relented and holstered the gun. He grabbed August’s chin and forced his head back to look up at him. “You just lost your chance to rest. We’re going. Now.” With a shove, he released him and turned to leave.
“No.” August was so sick of them threatening and forcing. They couldn’t do this without him. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Felix spun on him. “Of course, now that it benefits you, you’ll run back to your mother. Are you going to help her murder wielders, too? Be a good little aesling and follow in her footsteps?”
August said nothing. He still wasn’t sure he wanted to go home, but it was a better option than this.
“You are such a coward.”
“I know. And I don’t care.” August pushed past Felix toward the door. “I’m leaving.”
“And what makes you think I’ll let you?”
He knew the threat well enough by now. Knew the way Felix wielded his magic like a weapon. He wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of turning to see the glow of his eyes.
“Go ahead and force me,” August said, pushing open the large barn door. “You won’t get ten steps into the city now. They know I’m here. The Watch will find me. It’s over.”
“It’s not over until you fix your godsdamned mess.”
August finally turned to look at him. His mouth was set in a stubborn line, his eyes intense. But they weren’t glowing. Yet.
“You keep calling it my mess,” August said, “like you had nothing to do with it.”
“Aesling,” Marlow said in warning, but he ignored her.
“You’re manipulative. And you destroy everything you touch.”
The air hummed as Felix crossed the barn to stand in front of August, fury sharpening his features. “Probably smart to stop talking.”
“Every single person who died that night,” August went on, undeterred. “Their deaths can be traced back to you. My sister. Your mother. You started all of it! It’s your fault they’re dead!”
August had expected retaliation, expected Felix to use his magic to make him stop talking. He hadn’t expected him to bury his dagger in his stomach.
August gasped as the pressure of it slammed him back against the wall. The crows scattered, cawing loudly.
Raw, desperate panic clawed at the inside of his skull, skittering beneath his skin, through his fingertips.
The world tilted. Marlow shouted something, but he couldn’t make out the words over the noise in his ears.
He grasped at Felix’s hand, trying to free himself, but Felix leaned in close and twisted the dagger. The pain made August’s vision swim, the edges sparking white.
Marlow moved to pull them apart, but Felix motioned her back with his free hand.
“Don’t you put this on me, Aesling,” Felix growled. “And don’t you ever speak of my ma again. She trusted you, and you killed her.”
“Stop,” August said. Or at least he thought he said. Blood filled his mouth, trickling out from between his lips as he tried to form the words.
He was going to die.
Do something!
The tingling in August’s fingers built, and he reached out blindly, frantically grasping for the veil. But his power latched onto something else. An anchored. He drew it in, forced it to obey. Like the last time, it felt effortless. Practiced.
Save me.
It grabbed hold of Felix and wrenched him away, and he stumbled back, wide-eyed.
August’s gaze shifted to the anchored, and his stomach plummeted.
Lottie.
Startled, August released his hold. She blinked once, then turned to face him. Her eyes flashed with searing anger.
He’d grabbed her. Forced her. Controlled her. Just as Felix had controlled him.
I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but the words stuck behind the lump in his throat.
Lottie’s anger withered into something worse, a silent look of betrayal that hurt more than the dagger still lodged in his gut, because he knew exactly how that felt.
He was no better than Felix.
The thought split August clean down the middle.
Without a word, she vanished.
He’d used her. And he wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive him for it. Why would she? He still hadn’t forgiven Felix for doing the same.