Page 73 of The King's Man 1

The village appears, nestled in a deep valley surrounded by rock and forest, as we round a tight bend. A large dam perches on the quarry walls above it like a giant bird bath, a zagging crack down its middle. If—when—it breaks, water will drown everything, all that might remain visible the peaks of the tallest houses.

A chain of fleeing villagers scrabbles towards the canal. So many. And dozens still trapped, needing magic before they can be moved. My heart hammers hard and I spur my horse forward.

Quin curses and reaches out, grabbing my reins to slow me. “Not so fast. Unstable ground. You’ll get yourself killed.”

I lift frustrated eyes to his and look away again. “I hesitated to come here.”

He releases my reins gently, the brush of leather ticklish over my hand. He sits, regal in his saddle, and nods, something akin to trust in his gaze. “You’re here now.” He throws me the saddlebag and I catch it against my chest. Then he twitches his reins and moves off towards the dam looming above the village, his horse picking its way through the rubble.

Water seeps from the crack, darkening the white rock. One more tremor, and it will burst. I force down the fear and fork off the path, descending through shady vegetation to the last vestiges of life in the village.

I hear the moans and whimpers of the wounded long before they come into view, lying on stretchers in an overgrown schoolyard. I tie my horse to a branch and focus.

An elderly teacher moves between the dozen patients and their most loyal family members, handing out bowls of soup, clutching their hands, promising everything will be all right. I approach him. “Caelus Amuletos. Volunteer... vitalian.”

He clutches my arms in relief. “Thank the heavens. The luminist was the first to flee. No one else here has magic. I can only bandage wounds and soothe their fear.”

“You stopped the worst of the bleeding, kept them calm. That’s good. Take me to the most severe cases.”

The teacher leads me first to a youth close to River’s age, found trapped under a stone wall, his body protecting the young woman now holding his unresponsive hand. His bones are crushed in many places, and he’s bleeding internally. His sweetheart’s tears fall onto grazed skin.

I use spells to quell the bleeding, but knitting bone together takes layered spelling, time we don’t have. I can magically bind the bone—a temporary measure—but even this requires an abundance of magic.

I glance at the other patients. I’ll be drained after healing three. Unless... I swallow, and meet the girl’s wide, scared eyes. “He needs a lot more magic than I have.”

She cries. “I don’t have any.”

“You do,” I say softly. I feel sad for asking this of her, for rushing one of the biggest decisions of her life, but it’s the only chance the young man has. “Have you... given him your lovelight?”

She shakes her head. “Is it... can it save him?”

“It’s pure magic. It can mend bones, repair organs, stitch skin.”

Her breath hitches. “My lovelight kiss would save him?”

“Yes.” Perhaps it couldn’t cure poisons or mend magic meridians, but it could heal just about anything else. Even if a person were on the brink of death.

“And then it’s gone forever?”

I bow my head. “Yes.”

“He’ll never see it?”

“It will stay inside him; he’ll feel it if he wants to.”

She looks hopeful. “Are you sure?”

I hesitate, and shake my head. “It’s only what I’ve heard.”

She strokes the young man’s hand. “He twisted us around. I was the one meant to be crushed.” She meets my eye, lifts her chin. “Tell me what to do.”

“Your heart and mind have to be one.”

“And if only my heart wants this?”

“It won’t work.”

“What if my mind wants to but my heart—”

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