Page 59 of The King's Man 3

Outside, shoulders drooping, head cast towards the packed dirt road, I stare absently at the intricate shifting shadows of tree branches and the moonlight reflecting in puddles from a recent shower.

A whinny catches my attention, coming from the massive sprawling oaks near the canal. A dark horse shakes its head from the tickle of an overhanging branch. Olyn’s horse, the one she lent Quin.

He’s here.

He must be close.

I splash through a crescent moon on my jog into the trees and come to a breath-catching stop. There—on a low, sturdy bough—Quin sits resting against the trunk, good leg bent on the branch, his wrist tapping against his knee, cloak well draped over the rest of him.

He stares through the branches to the scattered but clearing clouds and the stars twinkling behind them. The lines of his face are beautiful. Weary, but there’s quiet strength in them too—a strength that draws me close. Deep inside, I ache for his solace.

His attention turns to my approach, gaze glittering, but not with surprise I found him. Like he hoped I would, or expected me to. He swings his foot down, swivelling to making space. The tree is gnarled and ancient; bark snags at my clothes as I clamber onto the bough beside him.

He says nothing, and neither do I. My chest is heavy with images. Mother and daughter, clinging together. I shut my eyes, but it doesn’t help. I see the daughter sickly and sobbing. I hear her accusation.You promised.

The words burrow painfully in my chest. I don’t realise my breath is coming in and out too fast until Quin’s warm sigh tickles my cheek.

My whisper cracks, “I spelled the child to stop her crying. She was making her symptoms worse. I couldn’t...”

He wraps his cloak around my back, his arm steady as he pulls me closer. His hand moves in slow circles on my arm, the warmth of his touch sinking through all my shivers. My breath hitches at the tenderness, and I press my head against his shoulder, surrendering to the feeling of safety, just for a moment.

“You came here,” I mumble into his tunic.

“To quietly assess the situation.” His murmuring combs through my hair. “Olyn told me you were in the cottages.”

I nod and, head heavy on his shoulder, stare at the branches stretching towards the sky.

His chest rises, holds as if he wants to add something, and falls again wordlessly. He tucks a stray strand of my hair behind my ear and keeps his fingers against the side of my head.Warmth against my cold ear. He exhales softly, the sound more grounding than any words he might say.

For a moment, the luminarium, the sickness, the world fades away, leaving the two of us, silently drawing strength from each other in this ancient tree.

Golden leaves rustle in a gentle symphony, and I don’t feel the wind at all. There’s only his warm presence chasing away the cold. I close my eyes.

Too soon, the beat of hooves over earth has me pulling my gaze around. It doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the direction of Olyn’s horse. Quin sits straighter, alert. My heart quickens at a crimson-cloaked figure on horseback, emerging from the trees. I haul in a sharp breath. That’smyhorse. The one I’d bought chasing Quin here. The one stolen from me.

The silent figure is Megaera.

On a gasp, I slide out of the tree and stand in front of Quin, ready to shield him from whatever she’ll try next. Why won’t she stop? Can’t she at least bide her revenge until the people here are freed from this?

My teeth clamp tight with rage.

The horse stops a few yards from us, and I shift, ready to cast a shield.

Quin speaks behind me. “She’s not here to attack.”

As he says it, Megaera tumbles off the horse into a heap on the ground. Her hood is thrown off her face, revealing damp, fevered skin and unfocused eyes. She calls my name on a rattling breath.

It’s instinctive and it’s cruel, but suddenly I want her to feel fear. Want her toregret.It’s a thorny, wild feeling. It goes against all my principles, and yet it claims me.I won’t tolerate anyone hurting the king.

She has not cared for his difficulties during her quest for vengeance. Why should I care for hers now?

“She’s still one of my people,” Quin murmurs, his words calm and clear and resolute.

I bristle, my hands clenching at my sides. “She—”

“It doesn’t matter.” His gaze locks onto mine, firm and steady. “I won’t let you lose yourself over her.”

The words hit like a quiet rebuke. A warning for me to look deep into myself—a hand offered for me to take, to steer me back onto my path.

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