Chapter 68
With his gaze fixed on August, Felix pushed up to his elbows, acutely aware of the fact that he’d just effortlessly torn apart a squad of ministry officers. While wearing wielder cuffs.
It wouldn’t even take a twitch of his fingers for him to do the same to Felix.
And yet, fascination flooded the places where fear should have been. His pulse quickened—not with panic or dread, but with fierce admiration and a hungry curiosity. Every time Felix thought he’d uncovered all of his secrets, August found a new way to surprise him.
The rain weighed down his dark curls, and his rings gleamed like polished metal. How did he ever pretend to be powerless? To be ordinary?
“I should kill you,” August said, though there was no heat in the statement.
“Probably,” responded Felix. He wouldn’t even blame August for it.
“I have every reason to.”
“I know.”
August paused, chewing thoughtfully on his bottom lip. Finally, he asked, “Then why can’t I?”
Felix grinned, trying for the one he’d used so often to draw out the flustered version of August he enjoyed so much. “Because you like me, remember?”
To his surprise, August actually smiled back.
Then, Felix’s surroundings snapped back in around him.
He remembered the ministry. Ashcroft.
Marlow.
He startled upright, gaze swinging around to where Ashcroft had held her at gunpoint.
Marlow pushed to sitting, and relief made Felix’s head spin. Her frock coat was missing, and she looked shaken, but she was alive.
Where were the others? Why weren’t they with her?
What had he missed?
There were no ministry officers left in the square, at least none intact, and Ashcroft lay on the wet street. Blood mixed with rainwater, tinting the cobblestones around him.
The shot had hit him in the leg, and he was sputtering curses and threats as he tried to staunch the bleeding.
The royal guards hovered nearby, but the youngest moved to crouch over Marlow.
Felix flared his magic protectively. He could handle the guard now. Easily. But the guard unlocked Marlow’s cuffs. He was releasing her.
As the guard stood, he looked to Felix. “I believe this is yours to finish.” He grabbed Ashcroft’s gun from the ground and held it out by the barrel.
Could they trust him? Was this a distraction? A way to get Felix to stand down?
No, the guards answered to the crown, and August was still royalty. That meant these three were on their side.
Felix stood and accepted the weapon.
“What in Daeban’s name happened here?” someone asked.
The guards whirled toward the voice, drawing their rifles.
Lark’s hand went to the bag at her hip. Gideon froze.
“Woah, easy, fellas,” he said. “We’re with them.”
Felix’s stomach lurched as he spotted Niall in Gideon’s arms, his skin raw and blistered. Was he dead?
“Marlow, we need you,” pleaded Lark. “He can’t die. I can’t lose him.”
“Aesling, can you call off your dogs?” asked Gideon.
August turned to the guards. “They helped us get here. They’re not a threat.”
“Stand down,” the youngest guard ordered, and the others obeyed.
Gideon put Niall gently on the ground. The boy was still conscious, writhing in pain. Felix rushed forward, but Marlow reached Niall first. She dropped to her knees, pressing her hands to the scorched skin on his face. Her eyes glowed red.
He watched helplessly as she drained herself.
At last, Niall settled. The burns remained, but they’d eased into the pink of healing skin.
His face softened, the sharp edge of pain dulled.
Marlow was smart enough not to push herself to a dangerous point.
He was stable and still breathing. It was enough.
Felix urged his raging heart to slow.
They were alive.
The tear was closed. Mostly. And Ashcroft was theirs. All the deaths he’d caused, all the elixirs, the lost, the ruin. He would pay for it all.
“It should be you,” Felix told Marlow, casting a pointed glance at Ashcroft. “This is your win.”
She gave a solemn nod. When Felix offered her the gun, she said, “I don’t need it.”
They crossed to where Ashcroft was bleeding out in the street, shouting demands at uninterested guards. She crouched and clamped a hand on his shoulder, shoving him flat against the ground.
He called for the guards, but they didn’t respond.
“You lied to me,” she snarled. “My entire life. You pretended to care about me. About all of us.”
“I gave you a roof,” said Ashcroft. “Offered you a home when everyone else would’ve rather seen you hang.”
“You didn’t offer us a home. You trapped us in a slaughterhouse. Kept us close like sheep waiting to be butchered. Did you feel anything when you killed them? Did you even hesitate?”
He flicked another glance at the guards. He must have accepted they weren’t going to intervene, that there was no walking away from this, because his lip curled, his expression darkening with anger.
“Of course I did,” he said. “I felt pride. Purpose. My people needed a weapon to slay monsters—so I made one.”
“We may be monsters,” said Marlow, “but it’s only because people like you made us that way.”
She flared her magic, and Ashcroft’s body convulsed, his scream a magnificent, visceral thing. Felix knew she could’ve made it quick, but he was glad she didn’t. Glad she dragged it out. Finally, the man stilled, and the market square fell silent.
Marlow stood and took a step back, her face shifting through a dozen emotions.
Felix wrapped his arms around her. “We actually pulled it off.”
She hugged him back. “Of course we did,” she said, her voice wavering. “Didn’t doubt it for a second.”
When Felix let go, she punched him in the shoulder, hard.
“You were just supposed to close the thing,” she shouted, “not go gallivanting around inside it! Can you ever just stick to the bleedin’ plan? You should’ve seen the state of ya. I thought you were dead, Felix.”
He smiled, and a laugh tumbled out—an unhinged sound bordering on hysteria.
He wasn’t dying today. The words, usually a stubborn, self-imposed command, now struck him as a surprising revelation. After all that, they were still breathing.
He glanced back at August. The young guard was kneeling before him, uncomfortably close. Felix went still, the smile falling away. The guard’s face was set with the kind of dangerous determination Felix knew all too well.
He shouldn’t have taken his eyes off any of them.
He clenched his fists and called his magic.
This wasn’t over.