Page 78

He shudders again, and this time it tears out of him in a roar.

It splits the air—one guttural, pained roar. His breaths come out hard and jagged; three bursts that rake through him before he forces control back into place. He shuts his eyes, and by the time I catch the horse and tug it away from roadside weeds, his mask is back on. His eyes sharpen, detached and unreadable, but the slight tremor in his hand when he grips the reins tells the truth—this is a man carrying a burden too big for even his broad shoulders.

In silence, we ride back the way we came—straight for the canals.

We pass through the hidden gate and into the royal city, stopping before the checkpoint to steal behind a shifting boulder and into a dark, damp passage of rock that stretches narrowly ahead. Gritting his teeth in pain and exhaustion, Quin takes a long cane off a hook in the wall. Lanterns light the way—that, presumably, was the preparation Quin tasked his aklo with. I lift one from its hook to carry with us.

“I’m going to say it. A secret tunnel is... something.”

“You’ve a real knack for words.”

I flick his arm, halfway between a scowl and a laugh. “You want me to get philosophical?”

Quin’s cane snaps on the ground and stops. He glances sideways at me, shakes his head in disbelief, and resumes walking.

“This tunnel is... an allegory of your life. It’s cold, dark, damp, miserable, lonely, pitiful—”

“Get to your point.”

“It may feel like you’re trapped, like this is a pre-made tomb and you’ll die a miserable death in its dank, wormy embrace—”

Quin turns with a growl and feigns nipping me, only the space is narrow—I have nowhere to go and his teeth graze my ear. He pulls back, eyes narrowed on the path ahead, and I loop an arm through his, grinning.

“I could stop here.”

“I fail to see the philosophical value—”

“Let me finish—Ah. Devoured by worms.” Quin shoots me a warning look, but the barest curve of his lips suggests this is exactly the normalcy he needs. “The tunnel may feel this way, but it will surely end. At the end there will be light—everything you’ve worked towards, waiting for you.”

He grimaces and his shoulders sag; I continue, “It may feel impossible, like there’s only floundering in the dark, but if you look you’ll see lanterns lining the way. People on your side, giving their light.” I gesture to the lanterns one after the other. “Your brother. Your queen. Your son. Skriniaris Evander. Your aklos. Aklas.”

Quin’s cane and our footsteps are the only sounds for a few beats. Quin stares determinedly ahead.

He chose you.

I see Quin’s furrowed frown as he took in the conditions of Niki’s home.

I feel the weight of the king’s roar echoing around me.

I swallow a sudden flare of nerves, and mask it with a laugh. “And me of course. I’m the best kind of light. I’m... the one moving with you.”

Quin turns. Shadow and light flicker over his face, his mask failing to cover his desperation. My eyes meet his and he holds them and holds them, then pulls away, continuing through the tunnel.

I gulp in fresh air as we emerge.

A line of aklas pause to bow as they pass us, and at a few of their looks my way, I realise I’m still wearing the red cloak. And that red cloak might match the colour of my face. “Surprisingly hot in there,” I murmur, following as Quin moves towards the house ahead.

I press the backs of my fingers to my flushed cheeks and drop them when Quin turns around. “You should go”—he winces. “Leave that cloak with me.”

I take off the cloak and lay it over a low stone wall, but I can’t go yet. I encourage Quin to sit, leaning the cane next to him, and we play a game for the flutette—I try to get into the humid spaces under his shirt while he tries to bat me away. I win and he eventually gives in and plays, the thick aura of pain around him dulling with each note until it’s faded completely.

Satisfied, I step back and bid him a good evening.

“Wait.” Quin clears his throat. “Your reward.”

“Haven’t I already had it?”

Quin looks softly out towards lushly growing pearl hearts. “I think you’ve earned another one. Again.”