Page 54 of The King's Man 1

I slap my mouth, tea spilling onto my fingers and the spotless bedding, to press the moustache into shape and stop abruptly. Setting the tea down, belly flipping, I scan the room—

Standing in the light shafting through the window is Quin, still and pensive. “Our magics have interwoven once. I’ll always recognise yours, whether you fail to control it or not.”

Magic smokes at my fingertips. He recognised me from this. He recognised me right from the beginning. My heart skips a beat—Akilah!

“She is sleeping in the next room. Drink your tea; that should relieve the headache,” he says without turning his head.

A wave of relief washes over me. “Do you recall everyone you clash magic with?”

Quin turns, his lips twitching. “The ones worth remembering.”

A frisson of heat flares to my face. “Why mine?”

He crosses the room, voice lowering. “It’s as unguarded and passionate as your expressions. Neither can lie.”

My fingers seep magic; I shove my traitorous hands under the blanket.

His gaze drops to where my hands disappeared and his lips twitch.

I puff out a frustrated breath. “Youwere the one who said if it could save lives, I should deceive.”

He cocks his head, and after a moment, agrees.

“Once I’m qualified, I’ll leave. Start over where no one will recognise me.”

Quin’s silence is heavy, almost oppressive, before he finally speaks, “I despise the rules stopping par-linea from wielding magic.”

“If only—”

“The king would do something?” A bitter laugh. “The majority of officials staunchly oppose such change. He’d have to fight.”

I slump against the wall. “I wish he would.”

“Even if he wanted to, he won’t get a chance. He’s still a damn puppet, under the control of his uncle.”

“A puppet who’s still king,” I mutter. “No matter his hardship, he owes it to his people to fight as hard as he possibly can.”

Quin’s eyes narrow on me sharply. “You think opposing corrupt power is easy?”

“I think the king lacks courage.”

Shadows layer Quin’s face, his power simmering with anger and frustration. “You speak so boldly for someone hiding behind a mask. Does courage come easier when you call yourself Calix Solin?”

My breath snags, heat thrumming in my chest as I fumble for a reply. “I’m just doing what I must to survive.”

“What makes you think he’s any different?”

My shoulders sag. I don’t know what to say.

Briefly, Quin shuts his eyes. Then he pulls a wooden badge from under his cloak. A familiar one.

I frantically check my belt for the soldad. Gone. My gaze whips to his. “That’s—”

“It fell when you were carried up here.” He steps closer, his presence filling the space as he reaches for my belt. His fingers knot it tightly, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “You’ll be up against the best—men who’ve spent thousands in gold to hone their craft.”

“I don’t have to place first. I just have to pass.”

“No matter how skilled, only those ranked in the top ten pass. All others may try again the following year.”

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