Page 29 of The King’s Man #5

I’m pulled along through the battle, ducking and dodging with Akilah as Florentius and Casimiria fight. At one point, I hold Akilah tightly against a tree while the battle rages. Over her shoulder I glimpse the fierce clash of magic and steel.

I spy the boat and the commotion on deck.

Lucius is locked in combat, his magic flashing and slashing under the dense dark clouds.

He parries and strikes effortlessly; two redcloaks fall overboard.

He rocks back on his heels and searches the battle, his gaze pausing on Princessa Liana battling fiercely alongside the commander.

They’re a graceful pair, their movements synchronised and knowing.

He goes low and she goes high, they fight back to back, pulling, flipping, conjoining their magic like a dance.

Their attacks are strong and playful, their tacit understanding palpable.

I recall Lucius mentioning her fondly; I can only imagine how hollow he must feel, seeing this. What they once shared is now nothing but a memory; a stolen moment. Because that’s what they are in the end: a heartbeat that races wildly, never to race again.

Lucius grimaces, and I wonder if stolen moments only lead to more pain. After a deep breath, he nods to himself and busies into battle again, saving a fellow prisoner from the bite of a redcloak spell.

The fight flashes furiously, and then Captain Kjartan is yelling. “Get to the boat!”

My ears prick, and time seems to stretch as we all pause, held in that fragile moment. Does this mean we won this battle?

Florentius sprints through the sparse trees, the urgency in his movements propelling him onto the longboat that is already pushing away from the alcove.

Stormblades and Prins Lief leap aboard, greeted by the cheers of weary prisoners and Prince Nicostratus, whose face dribbles with blood, glistening against the pallor of his skin.

We race after the vessel, Prins Lief halting his archers just in time.

He rolls his head back in exhaustion, a wry smile ghosting his lips.

“I suppose it’ll be a miracle if you ever once do as I say. ”

“Just help us on board!”

He hesitates, but it’s Nicostratus who acts.

With a flick of his wrist, he rides the winds, sending a pulse of magic that unlocks Casimiria’s meridians.

She makes a graceful leap toward her fellow prisoners while in a swift motion Nicostratus wraps his arms around my waist and Akilah’s, lifting us off the ground and flying us aboard.

Florentius snags Akilah from him—and I suspect, away from me—and forges through the crowd of prisoners to Lucius.

I take a heavy step towards them, yearning to explain—

Nicostratus steps in front of me. It’s the first time we’ve truly looked at one another since the dromveske. Our fleeting glance then had been filled with the promise of difficult questions; now, the tension crackles between us like the static before a spell.

We don’t have time for this, but his gaze stubbornly holds mine. I can see the conflict etched in his features, flickering in his stormy eyes. To ask. Or not to ask.

The longboat glides silently down the canal, then halts abruptly at the west arm, jostling me against him. He catches me, his warmth flooding through my cloak. I pull away too quickly, the distance between us fraught with unspoken feelings. His brow furrows, confusion clouding his expression.

I meet his eyes with resolve. “Not right now.”

Now, we need to gauge the situation. The longboat blocks access from the main canal, the looming cliffs on either side of the west arm offering a narrow route for prisoners to climb into the rowboats that Princessa Liana and the Commander are magically steering towards us.

The tunnel. We just need to reach it.

“Get moving!” I order, inhaling the metallic scent of blood mingled with the fresh, damp earth. “There are wounded.”

“I’ll help you first.”

It’s kind. Softly protective. It’s the opposite of what Quin would say. He’d tell me to put others first, to hurry on with it, that he’d have my head if I got hurt.

I rip a strip off my black cloak and wrap it around the nasty cut on Nicostratus’s head. Blood soaks into the fabric. He watches me, a mix of gratitude and something sad in his gaze. “That’s not what hurts.”

I swallow hard, forcing my voice steady. “Lucius or Florentius will spell you when we get to the tunnel. Get Casimiria there and come back for me when they’re all safe.”

His eyes search mine for answers I can’t give.

I shoo him away with a fragile smile that I hope looks confident, and when he finally turns to help the prisoners onto the rowboats, I find an apothecary kit inside the boat.

The wounded men’s eyes brighten when they see me coming, hope flickering to life amidst their pain.

“Caelus! You should have seen us. We snuck up behind and got the better of them. They had no idea it was coming!”

Three have broken legs, one a stab wound through his flank, and the last a dislocated shoulder. I prioritise the stab wound, applying pressure and shouting for Lucius and Florentius, who come rushing in from their reunion.

They become a synchronised team in the chaos and spell four of the five to health.

I focus on the dislocated shoulder, pulling it back into place with a quick, brutal motion.

Akilah appears with water, her eyes briefly softening before she stiffens again, her smile strained.

She offers Florentius and Lucius crystallised ginger, and she’s about to pop one into my mouth when she jerks her hand back.

Like she’d momentarily forgotten she was upset with me.

“You don’t need this anymore.”

I steal it anyway, grinning despite the lump in my throat.

I focus on the wounded, the atmosphere heavy with urgency.

A long train of rowboats moves up the canal, but it’s clear they’re struggling.

Princessa Liana and the commander are weaving magic, but the sheer number of prisoners makes it challenging.

Prins Lief is among those at the oars, his face strained, while Nicostratus continues shuttling prisoners, his own magic waning.

Suddenly a horn blares in the near distance; birds explode from their cliffside perches, squawking into the grim grey skies.

Lucius races to the side of the boat, jerking back just in time for an arrow to fly past his face. He conjures a shield of shimmering magic, yelling as he deflects more arrows with his glowing barrier.

I spin in horror, my heart sinking as I see Nicostratus sprinting for the last prisoners, his face a mask of resolve and fear. The regent must have sent a portion of his army down the canals, hedging his bets.

Florentius grabs me by the collar of my cloak. “I told you this wouldn’t work!”

Akilah pushes between us, concern etching her features. But when she glances my way, disappointment lingers in her eyes.

Nicostratus whisks toward me, fire flashing in his eyes, and I shove him back. “Last. I go last!”

His resolve hardens. He steps forward again, and I grab his dagger from its sheath, holding it to my throat, our breaths mingling in the tension.

He backs away, curses spilling from his lips.

“Get them onto the boats first,” I say. “ Get his people to safety .”

Nicostratus flings out gusts of wind that propel the remaining prisoners into a dinghy.

“Go!” Lucius grunts as he braces against another volley of arrows hitting his shield. “Your highness—”

“I’ll take over.”

“No. This is my fate, not yours.” Lucius holds his chin up and his shield grows. “I’ll hold them off long enough for you to reach the tunnel.”

Florentius staggers toward his brother, desperation in his eyes. “No!”

“Pull out my pipe before you go, would you?”

“I won’t leave you here!”

Lucius’s teeth clench, tension thick in the air. “Caelus. You promised.”

Protect my little Florentius.

My ears ring, blurring the sounds of begging and the thunk-thunk-thunk of too many arrows. My vision doubles with each pound of my heart, with each whisper in my head telling me what I have to do...

My stomach churns, bile rising up my throat. It’s hard to breathe. I forced this. I was the one who chose this.

The brother Florentius has fought so hard to free, who was his whole reason for entering the royal city, who he dreams of living with the rest of his days...

They’re supposed to have more than one reuniting embrace. They’re supposed to find a cottage somewhere—possibly with Akilah now by his side—heal the locals and have benign adventures getting lost in the woods. Adventures that end up as fond stories.

How can I rip that future away?

My knees buckle and Nicostratus knocks the dagger from my trembling hand.

Each choking breath only has the redcloaks getting closer. We have to leave Lucius behind .

If I don’t, we’ll all die here, all . No one would be coming back.

I yank Nicostratus even closer and force out my broken plea.

He does what I ask with a swift, brutal strike. The horrified realisation is frozen on their faces as their bodies slump towards the deck.

A sickening wave crashes over me as Nicostratus catches them and whisks them into a boat.

“Good,” Lucius says. “He’ll be safe.”

“You’ll be alone—”

“I know who I’m protecting. I have all our memories to keep me company, to keep me strong.”

He smiles softly; like he’s already starting to remember; already comforted.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I claw my way to him and pull out his pipe. “I’m sorry,” I say as I set it smoking into his mouth.

“I’m sorry,” I say again as Nicostratus flies me away.