Page 19 of The King’s Man #5

I don’t mean to cause more trouble.

But I do.

I knew Megaera was uneasy about it just being the two of us, but I’m unprepared for the relief she can’t quite suppress when I tell her I may have found us a third team member.

I know I don’t really understand her motivations—whatever they are, they’ve been enough to counter the risk of what we’re doing—but the fear.

.. it’s still there. Another set of capable hands could help tip the balance, but I can do nothing more about that until lunchtime tomorrow, and in the meantime. ..

The following morning, I rise early, slip on my feathered mask and roam the streets asking the whereabouts of the royal vitalian team.

Most people ignore me, but a kindly scholar points towards an inn beside the main canal and when I get there, I’m in luck.

Florentius is emerging from its main doors and—

Akilah. My Akilah.

From the shadows of trees, I follow her as she chases after Florentius, down the riverbank and into a canopied alcove where redcloaks are surrounding large longboat.

“Please, let me talk to him!” Florentius says, louder and louder when the redcloaks ignore him and block his passing.

Akilah pulls on his sleeve, pleading him to step back, not to get in a fight.

“I’ll heal myself!”

“It’ll still hurt. Please.”

I eye the boat cautiously. Who is on board? Why is it so heavily guarded?

Florentius’s shoulders are tense with emotion, but he lets Akilah pull him back to the trees.

I slip further behind the trunk, out of view, and peer around at them. Akilah is stroking his arm and murmuring as Florentius rubs the heels of his palms over his knotted brow. “I just...”

“I know,” Akilah says when he chokes up.

She slips her arms around him and holds on tight. He shuts his eyes and breathes deeply, shifting the hair Akilah hasn’t tied back—like she raced out on impulse. Her hands rub circles over his back and after a few quiet moments he drops his lips to the top of her head.

So much has happened. My Akilah has gone through hard times, and Florentius too. They’ve forged an alliance, taken care of one another, fallen in love.

“He’s cruel to do this,” Akilah says.

Florentius holds her tighter and stares towards the longboat. “We must win. I must free them. ”

I’m distracted by the uncomfortable weight of Florentius’s vow as I slip through narrow streets towards the square. I don’t notice the shadows following me until too late.

I spin on my heel, and two dark-hooded men fly towards me. I grab at my belt for poison, for something to toss at them to give me time to get away, but I know I’ll be too slow. Their swords gleam, and I squeeze my eyes shut—

This is it. All my plans, already ended.

But then air funnels over me—the cracking of a whip and clatter of metal, and the fact I’m still breathing has me opening my eyes.

A familiar vespertine wields his whip, pulling the last sword from its handler.

The hooded men flip forward, but they’ll be no match for him.

I step out of Bastion’s way, keeping one eye on his graceful display of agility, strength and swagger.

Eventually, one of the men runs off; the other is caught, his hood thrown back with a whip that coils around his throat.

“Who are you?” Bastion hisses.

The Hood grabs a dagger from his cloak and before the vespertine can stop him, he plunges it into his own chest. I cry out and rush forward, driving a hand into my medicinal pouch, but—

Blood gurgles up his throat and his body slumps.

I suck in a sharp breath and let it out again, feeling a strange mix of frustration that I couldn’t stop his death, and... relief that I’m safe. That the dagger hadn’t been meant for Bastion.

The body slumps to the side and I notice a mark at his nape—the mark of the regent. I pick up one of the abandoned swords, frowning. The hilt carries symbols of the gods. Iskaldir weapons.

Hinsard, this Medicus Contest... it’s a dangerous game from all sides.

“They were trying to make it look like I was killed by one of my own party.”

Bastion coils his whip, hooks it onto his belt, and flashes his dimples. “Aren’t you lucky I was passing by, beautiful?”

Despite the situation and the lingering shock, I can’t help but laugh.

Incorrigible! He truly flirts with every half-decent-looking man he stumbles across.

He doesn’t even care I might come from Iskaldir.

In fact, judging by the way he’s... appreciating my form and feathered mask, he may find that all the more exotic.

“Pretty laugh too,” he says and raises an eyebrow. “How about you thank me for saving your life?”

I palm my hips and he grins cheekily.

“With lunch, I meant.”

“Of course you did,” I say drily, then gesture to the body. “What do we do with him?”

Bastion whistles and two men appear to deal with the issue. He turns back to me. “Shall we?”

Bastion is here, and Olyn is too. I can easily guess the travel arrangements. “I’m due to meet a young woman at a tavern.”

“Young woman?” He smiles. “Three is company, is it not?”

Bastion is a sharp shriek when he sees the ‘young woman’ at the private table. “You said you had plans,” he says, wagging his finger at her.

Olyn swats him away. “You said you weren’t out to find beauties.”

“He was in trouble. I couldn’t help it.” He delivers her a winsome smile and winks at me. “I’m a swashbuckler.”

“You need to be swashed in cold water! Out, out you go.”

Olyn shuts the door behind him and returns to the table. “Sorry. He’s always like this.”

“I know,” I say.

She picks up a cup of water and glances over it at me with a wobbling, how-could-you-know frown. I close the shutters overlooking the square and pull down my mask.

She yelps and water splashes coolly over my face.

I wipe it off, blinking, and she scurries around the table apologising and dabbing at my cheek with a napkin. “You—you—you—” she keeps shaking her head and prodding me with the napkin as if to make sure I’m real .

I chuckle and steer her forceful fingers away. “Sit, I’ll tell you everything. Then I have a favour to ask....”

When I’ve asked, she simply stares at me. She drums her fingers on the table, opening her mouth to say something and snapping it shut.

I try again. “Will you join our team? As a woman. As yourself.”

She leans over the table and thumps it with a flat hand. When she resumes her seat, she holds up her water as if it’s wine and she’s making a toast. “I never thought I’d get such a chance, but this... without hiding? It’s a life-long dream. I’d risk my life for this opportunity.”

“You may be doing so.”

She slams her water back and stands.

She keeps her gaze steady on mine. “Let’s go.”

Mask back in place, I follow her across the square to the luminarium and the podium holding the registration book, where Megaera has been waiting. She takes Olyn in with crossed arms and approves. “I saw what she did in Kastoria. She has guts too.” Megaera looks at me. “And comes with...”

I follow her darting look to the stalls across the square and glimpse Bastion pretending to inspect the quality of a potato. “Added security.” I shiver, recalling the assassins. “We may need it.”

Olyn captures his attention and signals for him to be off, and Bastion immediately follows her orders. “Under it all, he’s fiercely loyal,” she murmurs. “Now, shall we?”

Skriniaris Evander isn’t here today, but someone else reluctantly hands us ink to add Olyn’s name to our team. We leave on a high and—

A snicker hits my nape. I turn to five faces—square jaws and long braids clasped at the ends with jade. The men, all our age, wear cloaks of the same burned-orange fabric, and have leather healing bags strapped to their waists.

“Why waste your time?” the middle one says, clearly the leader.

“Why waste your breath?” I retort. “Unless you fear we won’t fail?”

A hiss. “Put him in his place!” another urges.

The leader squares his shoulders. “This is a competition for worthy linea scholars. A team with no magic and two women? You’re making this contest into a joke.”

Megaera and Olyn step up on either side of me, folding their arms.

“Ah,” I say. “You’re afraid of being shown up by alchemy and female intellect?”

Team Orange turn red. “Back out while there’s still time, and you won’t leave the biggest laughingstock in the kingdoms. The regent might even give you face and send you home with the promise of a few months more peace at the border.”

“You think highly of your regent. But we think highly of another king, and for him, we stay to prove our worth.”

A scratchy laugh. “Aren’t you afraid of the shame? Your king might die of mortification.”

I smile calmly. “I will not let my king die. ”

Team Orange takes a menacing step forward and Megaera steps out. “Show your competence in the contest.”

Her breezy confidence infuriates the leader and he gestures to his teammates. A blast of magic immediately hauls Megaera, Olyn and me off our feet and flips us upside down.

“Not so confident now, are you?” He pushes me by the shoulder so I swing hard, knocking into Olyn and Megaera, who stifle their yelps. I stare through my slipping mask and laugh.

Magic flashes, but whatever spell it is, it doesn’t land. It’s knocked away by a shot of sparkling silver.

Florentius carefully positions himself in front of us as Mikros and Makarios make a welcome reappearance in my life by setting us free and on our feet.

When we’re upright and steady, the two silver-sashed royal vitalians step up to Florentius’s side as he eloquently puts Team Orange in their place.

“The regent himself has declared anyone may enter this contest. Let them prove themselves in the trials.”

They sneer. “ Your skills we respect, but sticking up for Skeldars and women... It makes you complicit in muddying our traditions.”

I sidle between Makarios and Florentius and catch stubborn eyes. Attitudes like this are what is affecting Lumin relations with Iskaldir. I need to do well in this contest—for my king, but also to open their minds.

“If my team surpasses yours, I want you to publicly apologise.” Florentius jerks in surprise at my incision but steps back a half pace and lets me continue. “And take back your contempt of non-magicked—and women’s—skills. Spread the word that Skeldars are equal to Lumins in medical proficiency.”

A disbelieving laugh. Team Orange ball their fists in unison. “Then, should you lose to us...” He smiles. “You must tattoo on your face a wyvern triumphing over the Skeldar gods, and” —he steps forward mockingly— “your team, including your Prins, must kiss our boots.”

At the mention of such humiliation, people around us hold their breaths. But mine comes easily. I plunge my hand forward and shake his. “Deal.”

“Tell me,” Prins Lief says with a quiet intensity that has me hastily kneeling before him, “is there a day you don’t get yourself—and royalty—into trouble? Why didn’t you hold your tongue, walk away?” He prowls closer and tips my chin. “Why can’t you see the delicate position we’re in?”

His words are reminiscent of Quin’s warning, about being a pawn surrounded by powerful pieces.

I don’t so much as blink as I hold his stare. “Yes, there is a tremendous amount to lose. There’s also a tremendous amount to gain. ”

He drops his fingers from my chin and narrows his eyes.

I continue. “Spreading the word of Skeldar skill will have people pausing before they judge you. It’ll help tackle misconceptions. Perhaps lead to better relations, understanding. I’m thinking about the bigger picture.”

“What about the picture you’re in right now?

” he tosses back. “You think winning will solve everything. Let me ask you this: have you thought about the case you do ? Have you wondered why Captain Kjartan and Iskaldir’s elite stormblades are accompanying us?

Have you understood why your aunt promised her life to me if you return unharmed? ”

My stomach sinks and I finally drop my gaze. I’ve been caught up in the challenge, in the dream of freeing Quin, even our kingdom’s future relations with Iskaldir. But I haven’t thought about this. “You don’t think they’ll let us leave easily.”

“You’re idealistic. You desire change, and you desire it to happen all at once. Let me tell you this: you’ll change nothing if you’re dead.”

I bow my head. A stiff silence follows, and I slowly rise to my feet.

“You’re right. They’ve already started trying to be rid of us.

” I tell him about the assassins and the Skeldar weapons used to get away with it.

“They’ll make it look like an accident. An attack by a third party.

Something that doesn’t implicate the regent. ”

“I’ll have men escort you, for safety.”

I shake my head. “I have a candidate for that job. A Lumin. Someone less conspicuous. He has men in the shadows too; the regent will be keeping a close eye on your men.”

He purses his lips and heaves in another breath. “Should we bring up the other issue?” The other—oh, he means Olyn. A Lumin, on our team. “How do I explain her to my father?”

“By the time he hears of it, there’ll be nothing to be done.”

“That’ll be trouble.”

“It’s more trouble to fail. And to succeed, I need her help.” I need all the help I can get.

“Then I’m the one who insisted she join the team. Me.”

This... My voice comes out gravelly. “Thank you.”

“Enough of all that. I received this today.” Prins Lief settles a badge into my hand.

“Skriniaris Evander,” I murmur.

“He says you should use it after hours.”

That’ll help avoid unnecessary confrontations.

I back up towards the door, clutching the badge.

“Focus.” The prins looks at me in pinch-eyed warning. “Don’t do anything frivolous.”