Page 90 of The King's Man 1

“And the third day?”

“To rank the top ten scholars. Each will face a patient with a real ailment. You’ll have half an hour to cure them before a seal activates, blocking all vitalian magic. The better your cure, the higher your rank.”

“That sounds—”

“There’s a twist,” he says with a twinkle in his eye.

I laugh nervously. “Of course.”

“If the seal activates before you’ve completed the cure, you must find a way to heal without magic.”

I nod slowly. “Anything else?”

“Most of those who make it to day three fail,” he says with a comforting smile. “But don’t worry, just getting there is success enough. Now, if you’ll excuse me, milk and cookies await.”

I tut and wag a finger at him. “You know what I say about sweets.”

Skriniaris Evander grins, eyes twinkling. “Old age, can’t hear you.”

* * *

Later that night, I bring Akilah her cake and collapse into bed, still dressed. The soft fur of my hood cushions my fall. Quin’s voice lingers in my mind, tight and taunting.Prove it.I hear it over and over, like the biggest challenge between us yet.

Irritating as he is—as much as I want to avoid him—I also can’t let that failed gift be our last interaction. I refuse to ultimately be judged a fool.

I wince and turn a groan into my pillow, then sit up. I’ll try again. Give him a gift to erase that shameful miscalculation.

I leap up with inspiration. Prince Nicostratus, my saviour once again. I pull out a long, flat box from under my bed. In it are the treasures I’ve collected over the years, and one of those treasures is a piece of ancient violet oak, taken straight from the tree and given to me by Nicostratus after our night in its hollowed trunk—the night we saved one another. “The wood absorbs vast amounts of magic. Past kings carried talismans made from this wood. They gave them extra magic when they needed it in war.”

The wood comes alive under my hands and knife. It’s ancient grain hums with potential. I’ll carve two gifts: an armband for Nicostratus in honour of his protection. And for Quin... I grimace as I imagine him raising a brow.What, for me?

Something to keep your mouth shut.

Weeks fly by.

Between tending to winter patients and studying late into the night, I’ve barely had time to breathe. Father has been distant, sending more patients each day, but I keep working. Tonight, I finish enchanting Quin’s gift and test it. It radiates warmth.

As I seal the last spell, Father’s voice cuts through the silence. “What’s that?”

I spin around, nearly knocking a jar from the table. Father picks it up and motions toward Quin’s gift. “May I see it?”

Hesitant, I hand it over.

“You made this?” he asks, examining the intricate carvings.

“It’s a gift,” I say, my voice trembling.

“Ah. It’s for a woman.”

I shake my head furiously. “For someone who saved my life.”

He looks at me over the gift. “When did your life need saving?”

I’m quiet, but Father is insistent and soon I’m forcing the truth out. He spends most of my story squinting at Quin’s gift, jaw twitching. At the end, he lifts the carved wood with one hand and fiery magic plumes from his other—

I leap for the gift and he throws me a look that dares me to move.

“Don’t destroy it.”

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