Page 29 of The King's Man 3

“He’s a calculating one,” she muses. “It’s not enough to poison the king; he spreads news of a bounty. At court, he appears concerned. Two birds with one stone—winning the trust of a few on-the-fence officials and having a failsafe if the poison doesn’t work.” She scrutinises me closely, suspicion in her eyes. “I’ve volunteered to witness his lifeless body.”

She presses the stick harder against my chest, her words curling soft, determined. “And I will.” She cocks her head. “The question is, what will I do with you?”

“Have I not . . . paid enough?”

The stick pierces through my clothes, my skin.

I gasp.

“You’re right. You’ve suffered.” She pulls back her force.

I squint in the search for honesty. Does she mean it?

“I’ll let you go.” She lowers the stick to the official’s uniform and flings it into the creek. “But I won’t let you save him.”

I glare defiantly and she laughs.

“If you want your horse and books back...”

“You took them?”

“As I said, I followed you.”

“Why didn’t you attack me yesterday?”

“You’re not exactly a warrior. I was curious how you’d try to save the king from those vespertines.” She glances at the uniform sinking into the water. “Cunning, aren’t you? Impersonate an official and pay the bounty. It might’ve worked too.”

I grit my teeth. “Megaera—”

She rifles through my things, finds Quin’s lifesaving money and stashes it in her cloak.

She turns and strides confidently away. “When he’s dead, I’ll return your things.”

I slump to the base of the tree, breath shallow and quick, a few beats off panicked. I shut my eyes. Think, think. I have no money, and no one else will come to help. All I have is a box of herbs and this... parcel—my contingency plan. But the bounty had been the key.

I force myself up and, stomach churning, continue as if my plan is still in place. This will go wrong. This can only go wrong.

I must try anyway.

Outside the vespertine hideout, I crouch and peer through bushes, taking in the wide spaces, the hill sloping to the next farm, and the dozen bulky men making the earth shake with their every step. How do I get in there?

I squint and crush a leaf in my fist.Why are they preparing mourning fires?

Is Quin already—

No. Why would vespertines mourn a captive?

A cold hand lands on the back of my neck, yanking me out of my crouch.

A gap-toothed grimace and failure bear down on me.

Sweating, I raise my hands, attempting a sheepish smile. “Take me to your leader?”

“Leader? What you want with him?” Gap-tooth—Gappius—unhooks a whip from his side.

I scurry back, tripping over my medicinal box, and land with a squelching thunk, leaves scratching my cheek.

Gappius prowls forward.

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