Page 13 of The King's Man 3

I laugh bitterly, doubling over as the tightness in my chest becomes unbearable. “Still putting on an act?”

His voice is quiet, devoid of the Quin I know. “It’s just naming my son heir.”

But it’s not just that. His uncle will kill him for it.

“Quin—”

Redcloaks file in, their presence suffocating.

The courtyard is a sea of bowing heads and murmured reverence. The luminarium presides over it all, too bright and beautiful for this day.

Quin takes his place, the epitome of royal composure. I follow the procession, my head bowed, my heart racing.

The ceremony is a blur. Music swells as Quin’s amplified voice fills the courtyard, his speech resonating with conviction.

Why aren’t you afraid?

I should be terrified for the kingdom, for the commoners who depend on him. I should fear the loss of a leader with a vision for change.

But in this moment, I care about none of that.

He’s Quin. My friend.

The rite begins. Quin crowns his son, whispers words I cannot hear, and announces the next crown prince of Lumin.

Cheers erupt, but they’re distant. Hollow.

Then the tea arrives.

Megaera hands me the tray, her gaze unyielding. I clutch it tightly, wishing to throw it, to smash it to the ground and scream.

But I can’t.

“Why?” I ask quietly.

Her voice is calm, detached. “Justice. The king will pay for what he’s done.”

“And Akilah? What justice is that?”

Her composure falters, just for a moment.

“Stop this, Megaera,” I plead. “Please.”

Her eyes harden again.

The tray feels heavier with each step. The dancers whirl, harp music lilting in the background. Quin’s gaze remains fixed on the performers, unbothered. Calm.

I clear my throat.

He waves a hand for me to pour. He doesn’t look at me.

I can’t do this.Please, Florentius, where are you?

My hands tremble, rattling the teapot against the cup.

Quin doesn’t seem to notice, or if he does, he keeps his face schooled. His fingers tap against the armrest, the only glimpse of unease.

“Do it,” he says, voice steady and commanding.

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