Page 44 of The King's Man 1

“Our kingdom’s demise,” Quin says bluntly. “We’re a small realm, surrounded by bigger ones. Magic is a commodity that other kingdoms pay huge amounts for; that’s important revenue. And magic defends our land—other kingdoms are hesitant to attack us for fear of what we could do to them.”

I look at him. “Is it worth defending a kingdom where only the ruling class really gets to live?”

His lips purse, and he says nothing. The shadows of the balcony deepen around him as if I’ve struck a nerve, but he holds his chin up defiantly. For all his manners, Quin’s views are as rigid as the noble class he comes from. But there’s a fiery passion in him too, one that I can’t quite read. Is he someone I can trust? Or another obstacle in my path?

I lean my forearms against the balustrade and shake my head. “When the last king died, I’d hoped his son might make a step towards change—have the courage to listen to the people, establish fairer laws—but...”

“But what?” Quin speaks between clenched teeth, and I wonder at what part of the conversation I’d begun to offend him. The assumption he wore gold-threaded undergarments? The implication that he didn’t understand common woes? That he’s a pampered boy who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth? “You could be beheaded for such words.”

“That’s why I’m not volunteering to stand on that stage.”

“You said it to me.”

I raise a brow.

“Then it’s a good thing,” I say, leaning in to whisper, “that you’re such a mannered man, who’d never sell out an inconsequential par-linea.”

He spares me no pleasant goodbyes, just an intense look that sends a shiver rolling through me. A shiver that steels my resolve and makes his next words sound both haunting and hopeful. “There’s nothing inconsequential about you.”

Over the next half year, life is good. Silvius seems to cross my path whenever he can arrange it. His laughter feels like warmth breaking through my chill, leaving me giddy and glowing. His kindness stands in sharp contrast to his keen martial skill, and I know deep in my heart he only uses force when he’s exhausted all other paths to peace.

His smile, however, slays indiscriminately. Something that has me often shaking my head—though not without a grin of my own.

He’s snuck me out of my home more times than I can count, careful Father never catches on. With his cloak draped over my shoulders, I can walk into Thinking Hall or Pavilion Library as if I was born with the right, without so much as a second glance from the guards.

But...

He never comes inside with me; he always lingers in the shadows. It’s as if there’s a line he refuses to cross, some secret he’s hiding.

He doesn’t share it.

Instead, he takes my hands in his. “It’s been forever since I could trust someone,” he says quietly. “It’s nice not to feel so alone anymore. It’s nice to have met you.”

And then, as always: “I have to go again. For a while.”

For the last month, I’ve headed to Pavilion Library alone. Without Silvius, it feels riskier—I have the soldad to grant access, but I don’t have the breeding or the trappings to belong here. A borrowed cloak may conceal that, but it’s like a thin skin over a quietly festering wound. Every step is weighted by the sense that any moment, my truth might burst out.

Yet, the lure to learn is too strong.

I devour the theoretical texts, memorising the five foundations of medicinal magic until they’re etched into my very bones. By spring, I’m immersed in the preservation and transportation of vitalian spells—concepts that seem to pulse with promise, even as shadows of doubt creep closer.

Hours blur together. I haven’t slept much lately; exhaustion has me resting my eyes atop my books. Just for a short moment. When Taffy’s purring wakes me, I blink in the hazy light of dawn.

I stretch up from a dense essay on capsulising magic and spell away a faint ache in my neck.

Soon I’ll have a way to send spells to Frederica—handy to have on her farm estate. And then there’s the one I’ve been working on for Megaera’s father.

There aren’t enough spells in the world to ease my guilt over the lies I’ve been telling my family. But if I can move someplace no one knows me, start a vitaliary and send money back, I could make sure they never have to give up our home or struggle for complex healing again.

Evander’s fur-lined cloak lends me countenance as I head into the garden for some practice. It’s risky—the wrong spell at the wrong time and I’ll be carted off to the courts—but it’s early, and I need more room to perfect this technique.

The spell is hot, steaming in my hand, and I release it hurriedly. It’s supposed to hover in a ball before me, condensing slowly to the size of a pebble. Instead, it veers wildly, striking a plum tree. A thousand delicate blossoms shiver loose, raining to the grass.

I scan the area—and let out a breath of relief. No one seems to have noticed. Yet. Resolving to be more careful, I try again. The spell forms steadily, faint pulses of light condensing to a pebble-sized orb in my hand—

A bark splits the air. My fragile spell wobbles as a dog bounds toward me; I shove the magic aside, but it implodes mid-air with a sharp bang. The dog yelps and bolts towards an elegantly dressed woman rushing into view.

“What did you do to him?” she cries, glaring as she kneels to calm her frightened pet.

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