Page 21 of The King's Man 3

I grimace.

Quin leans heavily on his cane as he disembarks, his lips curling into a wry smile. “Too handsome for this act, am I?”

Without thinking, I scoop up a handful of mud and smear it across his jaw, catching him off guard. “That fixes that.”

For a split second, he’s stunned, and I bite back a laugh at the rare sight of the untouchable king looking... human. His expression hardens, and he raises his cane like he might swipe me with it.

I dart out of his reach, grinning as I duck behind an approaching aklo. Oblivious to our antics, he takes the docking rope and waves us toward the low stone walls of an inn. Quin sighs, muttering under his breath, but he doesn’t swat me. Instead, he grabs his things and snaps his cane up the path.

Inside, the inn is alive with laughter and talk, the clink of mugs and the scrape of chairs. The innkeeper’s face is flushed, her cough crackling. “Looking to stay the night? One room or two?”

“One will do,” Quin says.

I whip my head around to him, eyes widening. He ignores me and we’re led to a small room with a wide bed, a table, two chairs, and a window overlooking a jasmine-shrouded inner courtyard. Quin collapses onto the bed, the cloud of pain around him dissipating.

“Breakfast from six to nine—” the innkeeper begins, but she coughs again. I subtly gauge her condition with a hint of magic. This could get worse if not addressed.

She stops coughing and apologises, backing out.

“Wait.” I stride to her. “Chicken broth with pixie mushrooms and rostwetty. After that, I can—”

Quin coughs, fixing me with a pointed gaze.

Right. I clear my throat. “Chicken broth please.”

“I’ll have the kitchen bring some up right away,” the innkeeper says.

Quin thanks her and shuts the door. His brows lift in a semi-chastising manner.

I flash him a toothy smile, then drop it. “One room?”

He arches a brow and remains nonchalant as he drops onto the bed. “You stripped me of my fastenings. Better be consistent all the way through, hmm?”

I narrow my eyes at him, but he’s lifting his bad leg carefully onto the mattress with a faint grimace. “Will we have to scrimp the entire journey?”

He side-eyes me. “You’re welcome to leave and do it your own way.”

I huff and point to a case poking out of his bundle of belongings. “Did you seriously pack your chess set?”

“We all have our priorities.”

“How much longer did I have to wait in the coffin for you to pack that?”

The barest of flushes creeps over his cheeks, but his gaze remains solid on mine. “Will you join me for a game?”

I squint at him. “I don’t play.”

He opens the set and gestures to the pieces. “Pawns, sentinians, vitalians, crown prince, princess, king and queen. The aim of the game is to protect your king.”

I fling myself onto the bed opposite him.

“Don’t see it as a game. The pieces mirror the dangerous and delicate balance of power in our kingdoms. We move them with careful thought. One false move, and—”

“Countless lives will be ruined,” I finish.

Quin nods.

I stare at the stone kings on the board. “Do you always play to win?”

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