Page 27 of The King's Man 1

He shoves me to the ground and stares at the table, at my brew. Spoon pinched in his fingers, he peels off a congealed layer. “You’d have killed yourself if I hadn’t stopped you. You can only ingest the liquid after the skin has drawn out the toxins, and this spell must be layered correctly.”

I scrabble closer, stomach screwed into a hopeful ball.

His jaw twitches as he stares at the dark fluid in the beaker. For a second, I think he might walk away. Then he casts me a maddening look, and swallows it.

I’ve never seen such a complex spell cast. My eyes are fixed on my father as he works; I want to commit each step to memory. This is what I’ve always wanted—to see this magic firsthand, to understand it, to be given the opportunity to learn it.

Unlike my blue freezing spell, this one is bright crimson and gold, a roaring flame cradled in his left hand. His right channels the magic as he builds the spell, layer after layer, moulded in fine needle-like lines. There’s a sheen to the outermost layer... That must be a shield, to protect the vitalian.

He delivers it through a dozen acupoints on the feet, chest and scalp. Sweat beads on his forehead; the cradling hand starts to shake. He flicks his palms free of the spell and staggers back. I catch and steady him, handing him a brew of ginger to replenish his energies. He knocks it back and his haggard breaths slowly steady.

“He’s gone the moment he wakes.” He slams the cup onto my stack of books. “Get rid of all these and kneel in the courtyard.”

“Please, don’t! Don’t take—”

“You’re a magical outcast,” he says firmly.

He waits for me to acknowledge this, but... I ball my hands and keep my chin up.

“Rebellious, aren’t you?” He grabs the books, the cup atop them falling and smashing. “Ten strokes and watch me burn them.”

Akilah drops to the floor between us, collecting broken shards, tears streaking her cheeks. I want to fall with her. Instead, I’m unmoving, except for a tremble.

My voice is raw. “Father—”

“You threaten to ruin us all.” His angry eyes punch mine. “Twenty strokes. And you’ll throw them on the fire yourself.”

* * *

Knees protesting and splinters stinging my palms, stripes of heat burn across my back. I yelp at each one.

My mother cries for Father to stop, and he sends her away, promising this is for the good of us all. When she’s gone, he speaks to me. “You threw away our chance with the Temenos family; they’ve demanded we return Megaera’s dowry. All of it, by the end of this month.How will we ever— It’s unfathomable.”

I bow my head and accept the next burning stripe and then wait for the following one—

It doesn’t come. There’s a sudden ruckus at the gates; aklos are running towards Father and me with pale faces. “Luminists. They’re searching for something. And someone.”

I stiffen. The tithiscar. And the spell I used.

Father staggers back, clutching his chest, fear not just a flash in his gaze this time but a visible, tangible shudder.

The luminist’s handbell chimes, each ring heavier than the last. A shiver races up my spine. Father’s warning comes into sharp focus. If they find I have that tithiscar... if they discover Silvius, after complex spellcasting... that’s the guillotine. For the whole family.

I feel around my robes for the little coffer they’re after, but... I left it, and Silvius, in my chamber.

Father quickly regains his cool and gathers the books; no time for burning now. He shoves them into my arms. “Go!” he hisses, “Hide them—”

I rush the books back to the vitaliary, into the wall, and slide a shelf in front.

As I finish closing the curtains around the bed—and Silvius recovering there, his pulse much stronger now—I hear movement at the door and my heart leaps, but it’s not a luminist. It’s my mother.

I don’t know how much she knows, how much Father has told her. Probably not everything—he’d want to spare her poor nerves. I clutch the curtain shut tight behind me as she approaches.

Her hair, bound before, is loose now and cascades around her worried face. “I saw you come in here... those luminists are looking around.”

She pulls me into an embrace and I wince at the pain rippling from my back. She quickly gentles her fingers and combs through my hair instead. “Cael. This will only lead to pain.” She spies my splintered hands. “What if you try helping without magic? There are other ways—”

She moves us towards the curtained bed and I quickly steer her to the table and chairs instead. “Crude medicines are inferior to vitalian spells.”

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