Page 20 of The King’s Man #5

M egaera needs a kitchen—I left some tricky scriptions for her to practice—so it’s only Olyn and myself heading to the library that night.

The shadows feel menacing and Olyn follows my darting looks. “As you asked, Bastion is following.”

“You’re close with him.”

She laughs lightly. “As close as friends can be.”

“Not more?”

“With that philandering swashbuckler?” Somewhere in the distance there’s a distinct sound of protest. She laughs. “He’s well figured out that I’m not inclined that way.”

Ah.

I flash the badge to a robed man stationed at the library door, and he glances around to make sure no one’s watching before he sneaks us inside.

He leads us to Skriniaris Evander, working at one of several tables surrounded by walls of books, and leaves again.

Taffy arches her back and yawns, and pads her way over onto the book the skriniaris is reading.

He chuckles and looks over her to us—Olyn in simple women’s dress and myself, in my mask.

“Found yourself a third.”

“It was wise advice.”

“I’ll admit, I’m surprised you found someone.” He acknowledges Olyn kindly. “It’s not my intention to be dismissive. But your team has more to overcome than the others.”

“You’re right. We have no magic, or” —as in the case of Megaera, who could have her meridians unblocked if we paid someone or found someone willing— “choose not to use it. We are limited to other techniques—alchemy, needling, muscle and bone manipulation, surgery. We do not have the ability to reach into the body with the same precision. We have to touch the disease to cure it. And atop all of this, we’re looked down on for being Skeldar or female. ”

Skriniaris Evander lowers his head solemnly.

“You may believe us to be the weakest team,” I say, and reach over to pat his cat. “But you need us to win the most.”

He blinks and looks quizzically at us, but before he can inquire further, the robed man from earlier reappears. “They’re here.”

Skriniaris Evander’s expression tightens; he immediately rises.

His cat follows him as he goes, and after whispering to Olyn that I’ll be right back, I do too.

I caught anxiety in the lines of his eyes and I want to understand— who can cause Skriniaris Evander to so swiftly stride from a room, and why he’s in Hinsard too.

Taffy leaves traces of white fur over the hallways and down a set of narrow stairs, all the way deep into an underground hall. A few lanterns light the way, here and there. Little light, but enough to know this meeting has been anticipated.

I linger a moment, brushing the edge of my mask. I shouldn’t be here. If they found me...

The sound of hushed voices hits my ear and curiosity takes over. I follow it to the end of the hall. Massive tapestries decorate the walls, and behind one of these is a partially opened door and a... tunnel?

“Is he in danger?”

“We’re still trying to find that out.”

“What we do know is, he didn’t manage to save her.”

The voices are coming from right behind the wall, and I recognise all of them. Something touches my leg and my boots make a scuffing sound as I jerk back from... Taffy’s tail.

“Who’s there?” barks the heavier voice, and before I can so much take a step back, Commander Thalassios has emerged from the tunnel, his magic choking my throat and pinning my arms to my sides.

Skriniaris Evander follows, and finally the regent’s prodigal daughter, still in a mask of her own.

I cough, trying to squeeze out words.

Skriniaris Evander waves a hand, cutting through the commander’s hold on me. I fall to the ground, struggling to catch my breath. Wrinkled hands kindly help me to my feet and wary eyes watch me.

I pull at the knot at the back of my head. My feathered mask slips off and dangles from my pinched fingers.

All three suck in a sharp breath.

Evander clasps me by the arms and inspects me. He frowns. “Your meridians...”

I shake my head, and he swallows.

I look at each in turn and focus on Evander. “You need our team to win.” My voice strains. “Our king’s life depends on it.”

I tell them everything and they listen grim faced, then tell me what has happened since the attack at Mount Lysippos.

Skriniaris Evander strokes his cat with a sombre expression.

“After Mount Lysippos, he purged the king’s supporters from the military—blocked their meridians, forced them onto the streets.

Half of— that island was slaughtered, the rest scattered across the Fotimos canal camps.

” He pauses, his voice heavy. “They’re labourers now. Hidden in plain sight.”

“And the prince? Where is he?”

“The king begged Prince Nicostratus to save his mother, to focus on this first.”

Skriniaris Evander adds, “The regent brought her here.”

“Does that mean the prince is coming to Hinsard? His manor is under regent control. It’s all traps. He cannot...”

The three faces before me darken with frowns and worried shadows. My stomach knots. “What happened?

Princessa Liana speaks quietly, “He was seen being dragged onto a longboat this afternoon.”

I shake my head—I can’t stop.

“The regent has an elite guard around the boat and another five hundred close by. We need to plan extremely carefully.”

The grim set to their lips suggests it won’t be an easy operation.

Skriniaris Evander picks up his cat and strokes her, staring hard into a thought hovering in the middle distance. “The regent... he has a dramatic personality. He likes having an audience.”

Like with his poisoned wyverns during the spring gala.

Or having me serve Quin life-shortening tea during the crowning ceremony.

Or making me choose between a stamp on my soldad and Akilah’s lovelight during an examination—and having it taken from her anyway.

He wants to be feared and revered. He craves to be seen .

“We believe the king’s mother is also being held on that boat.”

“Not just her.” Bastion’s voice travels from half a hall behind me, and I blink hard in surprise. Did he follow me in the shadows, or—

His boots snick as he approaches.

The others acknowledge him like he’s an expected part of the company. He laughs darkly. “There’s a pretty boy I’ve been tailing, and he’s attracting a lot of unwanted attention. Had another stand-off with an assassin outside. ”

I turn.

Bastion’s step hitches and his smile widens. “Husband!”

“Good grief.” I roll my eyes and he snaps me around the waist and whirls me around. I have to bat him off with my mask as he tries to peck kisses on me.

He gives up with a wink and shifts seamlessly from flirt, to vespertine with serious news.

“It’s not just the king’s mother and the prince.

” I recall Florentius staring wistfully towards that longboat and shiver.

“It’s the survivors from the island too.

He’ll free them all... if the royal vitalian team wins the contest.”

I slam my eyes shut. I can picture the faces on board that boat, ones I lived and worked with when I was trapped on the island. Fellow prisoners; comrades. And Florentius’s older brother...

He’s always yearned to free Lucius. He perfected his vitalian skills and entered the bloodthirsty royal city to save him.

My stomach dives hard through my feet. The regent is playing a game.

I shiver. “We have to save everyone on that boat.”

Bastion grimaces. “My men won’t be enough.”

The commander’s jaw twitches. “I have none, not anymore. I have some loyal friends, but... they may think it too risky.”

“The prins... ” I explain how he’s on our side, that he has been protecting the captive king as much as he can, how he is as invested in winning his freedom as I am.

I explain that if... if we do win, we’ll have a tough time leaving.

Perhaps the prins’ men can help free the longboat and in return they can support our escape.

“Even with his help we might only have a slim chance of saving those on board.”

Prince Nicostratus. Casimiria. Lucius . . .

I slam my eyes shut.

I dream vividly that night.

I’m on a cobbled street lined with blossoming trees. Beside one, I spot a carriage and a scarred aklo perched on the driver’s seat. In a giddy rush, I stop Quin’s aklo from announcing me and dive through the hangings into the plush carriage.

Quin keeps his eyes calmly on the book before him, and I slide along the bench until our knees bump. “Shouldn’t you be working, your majesty?”

Without looking up he drawls, “I snuck out to see you.”

I laugh and press a finger down on the cover until he looks at me. “If that’s the case, what’s with this book that you’re reading upside down?”

Quin pauses, quietly shuts the book, and sets it aside. Then in a flurry he hauls me onto the bench beside him. He calls for his aklo to head to his dance house. “How are the minions today?” he asks, eyes dancing over me .

“Running a school is exhausting. I love it.”

“You’re my son’s favourite teacher.”

“Well, I’m not supposed to admit this, but he’s my favourite too.” I wag a finger with a caveat. “But if he smuggles Generalus into my lesson again...”

Quin tips his head back with a laugh. “Just be happy he’s only smuggling his cat. He wants a pet wyvern.”

I shake my head, smirking, and then pause. “He’ll have to practice controlling them first. Perhaps a trip to Hinsard?”

Quin taps my growing smile. “You love it there.”

“It has our oak. And we can go past Kastoria—”

Quin growls, and mutters, “Vexing vespertine.”

I laugh so hard my stomach hurts. “It’s nice travelling, though. Seeing how happy people are now.”

“Are you happy?” Quin asks softly.

“Let me mull it over.” I fling myself around so my knees are bent and the back of my head is nestled in his lap.

“Only you would use me as a pillow.”

I smile up at him. “Only I’m allowed to use you as a pillow.”

His lips curl as he strokes my hair, and the braid I wore today comes apart ticklishly between his fingers. “Only I’m allowed to do this.”

The whisper has me catching my breath, “Quin...”

His eyes twinkle.

The carriage comes to a violent halt and I slide off Quin’s lap onto the floor. Arrows spear through the carriage, narrowly missing us, and Quin charges out to his aklo, dead by a dozen arrows. Everything moves too fast, while I’m still clawing my way out of the carriage.

We’re surrounded.

Quin tries to use magic—but nothing comes.

His leg buckles.

One of the assassins throws back his hood, and it’s King Yngvarr. He swivels my fallen Quin around by his hair, his face trained on me while Quin’s beautiful one is begging me to run, to free myself.

“Let him go,” I scream but it comes out a gurgle. I can’t move. Fear lances up my middle. I need to save him.

I can’t.

King Yngvarr unsheathes a sword and it glints in the sun. “I told you. You have to win .” And he moves his blade towards Quin’s throat—

“No!”

I wake, bolt upright, sweating.

Blankets pool around my waist. The murals on the walls are dark and strange in the cold silvery dawn seeping into the room.

It’s a dream. It’s only a dream. Just a dream. Nothing about it was real...

Yet no amount of telling myself this lessens my shivers. I swing out of bed into the chill of the room, and I rummage hurriedly through my things. There.

I pick up my clasp with trembling fingers, crush it into my palm and squeeze it hard. I squeeze until I feel blood. I squeeze until I feel the pounding beat of my fearful heart.

The first trial is today.