Page 37 of The King's Man 1

I splash through a dirty puddle and skid through our gates.

“Caelus!” The call comes from Mother, who races out from her chambers.

My stomach squeezes. “Take me to Lucetta.”

At a glance I can see Lucetta’s leg has been crushed. Blood has soaked through the crude attempt at bandaging. I fly over the small chamber and drop to her side, knees hitting the wood floor with a thud. Her big blue eyes are full of fear as they find mine and hold tightly. She whimpers. Her tiny hand reaches for me as she stumbles over my name.

“I’m going to put you to sleep first, okay?” I say, my voice cracking. “When you wake up, you’ll be better.”

Glowing purple shimmers gather, sending her quickly into a deep, pain-free slumber.

“Your brother’s roof collapsed in the earthshake,” my mother whispers. “She got trapped under a beam.”

“I need cradlebloom in a tea, with borage. Please.”

She darts out. Only a minute later, the door squeals open again. I turn, but it’s not my mother who’s returned.

My father’s gaze flitters from me to Lucetta as he steps into the room, his face all tight lines. I feel a burning anger expand in my chest and grit it back, teeth grinding together. I’d dreamed of his forgiveness, but now... now I don’t want it.

Father sees my look and flinches, his hands curled at his sides. “Where would I have found the funds for a vitalian?”

My throat tightens with frustration. “You could have healed her yourself—”

“The luminist heard about her injury. You know he has his eyes on us.”

“She’sthree years old.” My eyes sting and I steady myself against the wall. “Your own granddaughter!”

Her sweet laugh echoes in my mind—bright, innocent. Now, she lies broken, whimpering. A searing ache ripples up my throat. “How can you stand there and watch this.”

I turn back to Lucetta, but Father grabs me by the shoulder and hauls me to my feet. “You think this doesn’t make my heart ache too?”

“If she’s not healed, she’ll have a permanent limp. She could die of the infection.”

“We’d need proof we used official magic.”

I want to scream in his face that I don’tcareabout official or not. Why should Lucetta have to suffer? But the roar inside me breaks into a hiccup. Why do we have to make these choices? Why am I constantly on the run, when all I want is to help?

His grip on my shoulder tightens, and his face crumples for a moment before he masks it with pinched lips. “It cuts me too. Watching her struggle. Hearing her cry.” His throat juts on a hard swallow and I glimpse a man trapped under the weight of right and wrong, his spirit and his resolve crushed as badly as Lucetta’s leg. “I know I’ve failed her.”

My chest heaves as I glare at him, my voice shaky. “I don’t care what we have to give up. She needs help. Get her a vitalian.”

Father closes his eyes and releases me. “With what funds, Cael? We have to return a dowry.” Father rubs his forehead.

A wave of nausea rises up my throat.

This is my fault.

I’ve always been rebellious. Always gone against the law to chase after my outrageous dreams; gone against my family to chase after my own heart.

I yank at the pouch Silvius gave me. It’s supposed to feel freeing, handing this over—supposed to make Father and myself breathe easier again. But I only feel guilt. “I have it.”

Father’s voice is heavy with relief, but there’s also disappointment in his eyes—something that may never disappear between us. “Go, then. Get a vitalian. And tomorrow, return the dowry to Megaera’s family.”

* * *

I’m happy to see Lucetta skipping again, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from twisting in my gut as I struggle into my nicest clothes the next morning. It takes Akilah three trips to my courtyard to drag me and the Temenos dowry to the carriage.

The fourth time, hand balled in the back of my cloak, the tie strangling my throat, she chides, “Well it’s nice to knowsomethingscares you.”

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