Page 3 of The King's Man 3

I push to my feet. “What if Quin brought seeds? We could grow our own herbs.”

Casimiria sighs and pulls a small box from a shelf, opening it to reveal neatly labelled sachets. “We tried once. Nothing grew.”

“Try again.”

Her gaze sharpens. “Try until we die?”

I grab the box and hold it just out of reach. “What do we have to lose?”

For a moment, she studies me, her expression softening into something close to respect. Finally, she laughs—a low, almost reluctant sound. “Fine. Take the seeds. But don’t expect magic.”

“Here you are.”

I whirl from my solitary work clearing, digging and pressing seeds into the rocky soil to find Nicostratus leaping down from a stone wall, his descent as smooth as a breeze. My heart lurches as he pulls me into a crushing embrace.

He captures my hand and moves it to his chest. His gaze rolls over me slowly, as if to make sure I haven’t been hurt. His eyes snag on my cloak, then lift to mine. “Constantinos demanded we continue south, but I... couldn’t. I had to come back for you.”

My stomach heaves and falls sharply.

I can picture them in their saddles, in light armour, the messenger on his own horse expressionlessly reciting the news. Nicostratus would’ve begged for more information while Quin’s knuckles would only whiten around his reins. Quin wouldhave collected himself first, understanding the implications. Understanding the duke wants to use me against him.

Continuing south was smart. No doubt, Quin will even lengthen his visit. Maybe the duke will forget about me, if my unimportance is made clear.

I nod and nod.

I look away. He tugs me gently closer and cups my cheek.

“I’ll find a way to free you,” he whispers. “I promise.”

I swallow thickly.

He kneels and swings a satchel off his shoulder. “They confiscated your things, but they waved this through.” He grinds his teeth. “To rub in what you can’t do on the island.”

I kneel beside him as he unpacks it. My breath hitches when I see the worn spines of my grandfather’s healing journals.

I reach out slowly, fingers brushing the cover. “How did you find these?”

“Florentius guessed they’d be coming—he took some of your things first.”

Emotion rises thick in my throat. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Both of you.”

Nicostratus nods, and then, hesitantly, whispers. “This island is ancient, Cael.”

He looks around and I follow his gaze past the ruins, trying to imagine how this place once stood proud and whole. He lowers his voice even further. “Ask Casimiria.”

“Ask what?”

“About the only glimmer of light left here,” he whispers, as if should he speak any louder, even that light might extinguish. A chill licks up my spine. Yet his eyes hold mine, pleading me to find that light. To persevere here.

“I’ll keep coming, as much as I can. Until I have a way...”

To free you.

I rub his chest where he holds my hand to him, the wooden armband I gave him pressing against my wrist. “It’s too dangerous,” I croak. “If he knew how much you mean...”

His gaze sharpens on me, hand holding mine closer against him. Anguish floods his face.

I swallow tightly. “The duke wins this move if you give your weakness away.”

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