Page 20
Story: The King's Man 2
He continues, “I’m sure your mother would tell you the same thing.”
Quin’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes; his grip tightens again on the cane. “If only the vitalians were half as useful as you, uncle,” he says. His tone is brittle with affected weakness, but there—the shift of his hand over his cane, a glimpse of restrained venom.
“I’m sorry she must rely on me.”
“I still don’t understand how she can’t fight it off whenyoudid.”
“I have a stronger constitution.” The high duke reaches out and pats the shoulder of the king. “It’s just a thimbleful of blood; I don’t mind helping out when I can.”
Quin inclines his head reverently and the high duke breathes deeply, like the air tastes magnificent.
“I shall take my leave. Rest up. Enjoy the gala... festivities.”
He sweeps away with half the redcloaks in tow. Those remaining, Quin dismisses. I start to scramble, only to be delivered a flat look. “You stay.”
When we’re alone, he turns to me. “Mentally unstable? You’re not afraid of me at all.”
“I can’t say I’m not afraid of your uncle. He’s planning something for Sunday’s gala.”
“To be sure.”
My stomach rolls. “Are you truly rusty at controlling the wyverns?”
“That is, in fact, his hope. He wants me to lose credibility, publicly. He wants to claim I’m not my father’s son.”
“So prove him wrong. Control the wyverns. Have your men help if necessary.”
“That’s his back-up plan. If I have to act, he’ll know who my supporters are. He’ll make sure they all succumb.”
“If you force the wyverns into submission alone?”
He stares out at the vista of the royal city. “Quietly manipulating better outcomes for my people will be over. He’ll know my true strength, doubt my every move. He’ll be determined to be rid of me. But not before he stops giving my mother her antidote. Not before he makes me watch her suffer until she...”
I close my eyes, briefly. “What will you do?”
Quin stares hard at the long canal and the colourful stalls set along its bank. He sighs, looks at me, and steps forward. “We have other things to discuss.”
I cast my gaze to the grass between us.
“Don’t act shy now.”
“Shy?” I snort, stepping back. “Playing the part of your dutiful subject. Isn’t that what you like?”
“Scathing.”
I snap my head up and swallow a retort over the sudden fiery lump in my throat.
“Go on. Let it out.”
I don’t know where to start. I throw my hands up and ask, “Quin?”
“My aunt—Frederica—she calls me that, from my middle name. Constantinos Quinlaus Gaillot. I never reveal my true identity when I’m outside the royal city... unofficially.”
“I’ve been here a while.”
“And I expected you to find out.”
“You could’ve told me,” I say, my voice low, laced with both hurt and disbelief. “But I suppose the king doesn’t owe explanations to his subjects, does he?”
Quin’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes; his grip tightens again on the cane. “If only the vitalians were half as useful as you, uncle,” he says. His tone is brittle with affected weakness, but there—the shift of his hand over his cane, a glimpse of restrained venom.
“I’m sorry she must rely on me.”
“I still don’t understand how she can’t fight it off whenyoudid.”
“I have a stronger constitution.” The high duke reaches out and pats the shoulder of the king. “It’s just a thimbleful of blood; I don’t mind helping out when I can.”
Quin inclines his head reverently and the high duke breathes deeply, like the air tastes magnificent.
“I shall take my leave. Rest up. Enjoy the gala... festivities.”
He sweeps away with half the redcloaks in tow. Those remaining, Quin dismisses. I start to scramble, only to be delivered a flat look. “You stay.”
When we’re alone, he turns to me. “Mentally unstable? You’re not afraid of me at all.”
“I can’t say I’m not afraid of your uncle. He’s planning something for Sunday’s gala.”
“To be sure.”
My stomach rolls. “Are you truly rusty at controlling the wyverns?”
“That is, in fact, his hope. He wants me to lose credibility, publicly. He wants to claim I’m not my father’s son.”
“So prove him wrong. Control the wyverns. Have your men help if necessary.”
“That’s his back-up plan. If I have to act, he’ll know who my supporters are. He’ll make sure they all succumb.”
“If you force the wyverns into submission alone?”
He stares out at the vista of the royal city. “Quietly manipulating better outcomes for my people will be over. He’ll know my true strength, doubt my every move. He’ll be determined to be rid of me. But not before he stops giving my mother her antidote. Not before he makes me watch her suffer until she...”
I close my eyes, briefly. “What will you do?”
Quin stares hard at the long canal and the colourful stalls set along its bank. He sighs, looks at me, and steps forward. “We have other things to discuss.”
I cast my gaze to the grass between us.
“Don’t act shy now.”
“Shy?” I snort, stepping back. “Playing the part of your dutiful subject. Isn’t that what you like?”
“Scathing.”
I snap my head up and swallow a retort over the sudden fiery lump in my throat.
“Go on. Let it out.”
I don’t know where to start. I throw my hands up and ask, “Quin?”
“My aunt—Frederica—she calls me that, from my middle name. Constantinos Quinlaus Gaillot. I never reveal my true identity when I’m outside the royal city... unofficially.”
“I’ve been here a while.”
“And I expected you to find out.”
“You could’ve told me,” I say, my voice low, laced with both hurt and disbelief. “But I suppose the king doesn’t owe explanations to his subjects, does he?”
Table of Contents
- Page 1
- Page 2
- Page 3
- Page 4
- Page 5
- Page 6
- Page 7
- Page 8
- Page 9
- Page 10
- Page 11
- Page 12
- Page 13
- Page 14
- Page 15
- Page 16
- Page 17
- Page 18
- Page 19
- Page 20
- Page 21
- Page 22
- Page 23
- Page 24
- Page 25
- Page 26
- Page 27
- Page 28
- Page 29
- Page 30
- Page 31
- Page 32
- Page 33
- Page 34
- Page 35
- Page 36
- Page 37
- Page 38
- Page 39
- Page 40
- Page 41
- Page 42
- Page 43
- Page 44
- Page 45
- Page 46
- Page 47
- Page 48
- Page 49
- Page 50
- Page 51
- Page 52
- Page 53
- Page 54
- Page 55
- Page 56
- Page 57
- Page 58
- Page 59
- Page 60
- Page 61
- Page 62
- Page 63
- Page 64
- Page 65
- Page 66
- Page 67
- Page 68
- Page 69
- Page 70
- Page 71
- Page 72
- Page 73
- Page 74
- Page 75
- Page 76
- Page 77
- Page 78
- Page 79
- Page 80
- Page 81
- Page 82
- Page 83
- Page 84
- Page 85
- Page 86
- Page 87
- Page 88
- Page 89
- Page 90
- Page 91
- Page 92
- Page 93