Page 28 of The King’s Man #5

I collapse on the damp platform beneath the luminarium, calling hoarsely for Lucius.

He pounds down the spiral staircase and I yell out what he needs to stack. He’ll have been consuming teas while I was searching. He’ll be ready.

Magic is faster. Ultimately, that fact always remains.

Lucius hasn’t even reached the last step before he’s funnelling the spells into Casimiria and the prince.

I see colour slowly seeping into their faces, and with plummeting relief—and queasy anxiety—I leave Lucius to finish his spells while I check on the souls upstairs.

They are stirring.

I skid over to the little girl and Akilah, taking their pulses as they sit dazedly upright. They’re ticking smoothly, getting stronger by the second.

The little girl starts pouting and calls out for Nestor.

“It’s alright,” I murmur, patting her back. “He’s waiting for you. You’ll see him soon. ”

She sniffs and Akilah offers her skirts for the child to wipe her tears away.

With a frown, Akilah asks quietly, “Where are we?”

“You fell into the regent’s dromveske. Your soul will leave soon and you’ll return to your body.”

“This is part of your trial?”

“Yes.”

She takes in all the familiar faces of the island prisoners stirring awake around her, and pins a frown on me. “If we leave, do you win?”

“Yes.”

“What about Florentius? What about his brother?”

“What about his brother?” Lucius says, coming up from behind with the prince and a hobbling Casimiria at his side. Their gazes hit mine and widen. Between the prince and me is a thousand questions—between the king’s mother and me, the quiet reminder we have scores yet to be settled.

I jerk my head away to Akilah climbing to her feet. “If we leave now and Cael wins the Medicus Contest, all your lives are in jeopardy!”

Lucius takes out his pipe and starts puffing. “The regent already imprisoned us on a boat and tried to poison everyone in here.”

Akilah swallows. “He said he’d let you all go if Florentius won the contest.”

“So he’d have dumped our comatose bodies on the bank? ”

“Then leave here after you’re dumped, and be free for the rest of your lives. Safe.”

There’s a gasp of longing, and I stand. “If our team wins—”

“Your boat may be set alight with all your bodies in it!” Akilah says to them, glaring at me.

Her wrath stings. It hurts to argue against the ally I’d thought would always have my back.

Your sister or your king?

I made my choice.

She is making hers. Me, or Florentius.

I briefly shut my eyes on the ache and force out my voice. “Redcloaks won’t expect resistance from the inside. Leave now—tip the battle in your favour and free yourselves.”

“You might not all make it!”

“We need this win to save our true king.”

“They don’t care about a useless king!”

I reel back at her punching words and a steadying hand clasps my hip. I feel the press of his armband, and know it’s Prince Nicostratus.

My heart races as I address all the prisoners.

“If my team doesn’t win, the regent does.

The regent who cast you away on that forsaken island; who denied you healthcare; who put you all here.

” I look at all of them earnestly. “He promised Florentius he would free you, but who’s to say he’ll keep that promise?

Prince Nicostratus’s hand stays at my side as Lucius steps before me. “I’ve never trusted the regent. But I have seen Cael toiling for weeks on arid land to produce life-saving plants to protect you all.” There’s stirring and whispering at this. “I choose to fight.”

More murmurings, and the three men who taught me to weave coffinweed on that island rise.

One by one, they all stand, vowing to fight for their escape.

Lucius faces me. “What do you need us to do?”

I ping my eyes open to Olyn and Megaera bowed over me. They startle and rear back as I lurch upright and check the hourglass. Mere minutes left.

I hope they all follow my instructions as promised.

“Needle the rejuvenation acupoints.” Olyn swiftly follows the instruction. “Sniffing salts!” Megaera grabs some and holds them under each nose.

The clouds have thickened overhead and the luminarium dome glares along with the regent, who is shifting tightly in his seat. The crowds are full of quiet whispers.

The royal team watches closely, Florentius with a twitching jaw. He sees me as a threat. He sees me standing between him and his brother—

And, I am.

I cannot forget that.

Gravely, I move to the little girl’s side and whisper in her ear to wake, to see her Nestor. As instructed, Lucius has guided the little girl through the exit door first, and she sits up crying. “Nestor! Brother!”

Spectators take a collective step back, enlarging the stage in their shock, their disbelief. And in the centre of it is Florentius, dropping to his knees with an agonised cry while the leader of the orange team races forward with a shout of relief, pulling his little sister into his trembling arms.

Nestor’s wet eyes meet mine over her small shoulder and in their depths, I see remorse and endless gratitude. I incline my head, and he whispers as he passes me, “I lost. I know what to do.”

They leave the stage and I huddle over Casimiria’s slowly stirring body with Olyn and Megaera. I whisper, “The moment he sees her, the regent will set his soldiers in motion. We split here.”

Olyn swallows. “Bastion told me what to do.”

“This is goodbye then,” Megaera murmurs with a wry smile, “I’ll be happy not to owe you any longer.” She pauses and her eyes lock on mine quietly. “Take care.”

They step back, and as the hourglass drips its last sand, Casimiria awakens. “Had some rough sleeps before. That was the worst.”

Absolute silence. The crowd doesn’t so much as whisper.

They don’t know how to explain this away.

They don’t know how to comprehend that an outcast, non-magic team just won the Medicus Contest; that we revived two comatose patients.

Clouds descend, thickening the shadows of their frowns—and the regent’s fury.

He’s risen from his throne, his face pinched. He wants to lash out, strike us down, but he’s aware the people are watching, judging. He has to finish his act.

He’s motioning for his men instead, silent language. I know what it means.

As planned, Bastion has capsulised spells tossed high into the air, and they burst into sound and colour. In the confusion, I take Casimiria by the hand; she slaps me away and springs to her feet, gaze meeting mine. We might have scores to settle, but right now we need to flee.

We dash through the throng, weaving between startled spectators and drink stalls. Skriniaris Evander is yelling false directions in the distance, a risky move that he could not be dissuaded from taking. I’ll lay my life down, if it gives you the chance to get away; to free my friend and my king.

With a hiccup in my heart, we race on. The smell of rain hits our noses before the first drops pelt our heads, and the chaos of people dashing for cover from the sudden downpour aids our escape.

“Here!” Bastion hisses; we veer into the alley where we hand over our cloaks and my feathered mask and don plain black. In our stead, vespertines continue our race towards ‘escape’.

Bastion pauses, meeting my gaze with a wink before dashing off with a dramatic flap of Prins Lief’s cloak. “Dream of me. ”

Casimiria and I move swiftly in the other direction, towards the canal. Get to the tunnel. No one can follow .

In the near distance, muted clangs of metal and grunts of soldiers engaged in combat. The battle of the longboat is underway.

My stomach twists. I grab Casimiria by the wrist and pull her towards an overgrown bridge that I’ve been instructed to cross. I’m not to come near the fight—Prins Lief’s orders. I’m to skirt the woods until we reach the west canal arm, and slink into the tunnel.

A flash of movement on the bank behind us—

Along the upper edge, Florentius is sprinting in the direction of the longboat.

Casimiria hisses sharply and I let go of her wrist as I curse. Florentius might throw up a good shield against wyverns, but what could he do against redcloaks who’ve trained their entire lives to breach shields and kill?

I recall Lucius taking me aside just before I left the dromveske. His grim stare. “Whatever happens, promise you’ll protect my little Florentius.”

Bastion’s men were supposed to stop him and Akilah from running into danger. They’re supposed to lead them to the tunnel to choose between fleeing with Lucius, or saying their farewell. Something has gone wrong.

I need to catch up to him, take him along with me and Casimiria to see Lucius on the other side—

I step in his direction and halt. Quin’s mother. I have to protect her. I have to get her safely to the tunnel.

Another figure snags my attention and my stomach drops at the sight of Akilah chasing Florentius, begging him to stop, not to throw himself into the battle.

Casimiria eyes the situation. She takes charge, hauling me along towards the longboat.

“It’s dangerous,” I gasp, even as my steps quicken. “Your meridians have been sealed—”

She finds a dead redcloak slumped in the grass and swipes his bow and arrow. “I’ve trained for this.”

She nocks an arrow and shoots it into a redcloak jumping out from behind a tree, sword ready. I gaze at her with a slack jaw. “He really takes after you.”

Akilah screams as three more redcloaks appear, and Florentius whirls back and blasts them away with a shield. He scoops her close to his side and—

Pom-pom-pom. Casimiria fends off more of their attackers. The string of her bow sings.

Florentius and Akilah spin, catching sight of us. His gaze hits mine—but hers doesn’t. She’s only focused on him. Her hand, still in his. My breath crackles. She’s my sister, but now he ’s become her world.

We’re stuck in this together now. We can’t go back the way we came. Our only way is to forge forward and follow with the boat.

“Close in on the boat!” Captain Kjartan booms, his voice cutting through the chaos like a knife.