Page 60 of The King's Man 3

He hasn’t ordered me to aid her. He’s simply reminded me to be the person I long to be.

I draw in a shaky breath, hesitating as she struggles. Pleads—

I scramble over tree roots and grass to her side. Her cloak is sweated through, and her pulse is erratic. She must have been infected for days. Was this why she’d tried to follow me? She was sick all this time, chasing after the faint hope I’d help her.

I need to get her inside, wash her down, give her water. I scoop her into a sitting position. She’s too weak to help me. Quin comes behind me and I throw an arm up, stopping him. His leg can’t tolerate helping her move. I fumble through the grass for a fallen stick and cast it before the horse, spooking it into a neigh and a run. The ruckus brings a few men with lanterns towards the trees, and I call out to them.

With their help, I get Megaera to a cottage and make her comfortable. Olyn brings a selection of capsules and I take them with a forced smile, stomach restless. These are nothing.

Behind her, coming through the door, men are carrying another critical patient. I glance over her shoulder to see the farmer Quin and I hitched a ride with. From scratching in the fields, to deathly pale and limp.

I swallow. More and more will become critical during the night.

Olyn wipes the back of her hand over her forehead—

I catch a glimpse of something up her sleeve and snatch her wrist. My eyes snap from her arm to her tight swallow.

She tugs her sleeve lower over patches of glistening skin.

“You need to rest.”

“I’ve a good day of work left in me,” she says lightly, but I detect a nervous lilt. “Until then, I can help others.”

I assess her condition. She has less than a day. And less still if she continues to exhaust herself.

I call in a volunteer, and one of Bastion’s men responds. Good, someone intimidating. “Make sure Olyn doesn’t lift another finger.”

I shuffle her to a chair and race to the door, my blood pounding.

“Where are you going?” she calls, and the door slams shut behind me.

I take a lantern and charge down the road, towards the southern gate and into the towering trees beyond. Night is thicker under their shadows but it’s not as haunting as the faces flashing through my mind. Pale and fevered and dying. There might be danger ahead, but therewillbe death if I don’t go on.

I race towards the mirroring pool, stumbling on mossy rock and scratching my face on a thorny branch along the way. Ahead, up a steep rise, nebulous haze and beckoning fingers of poisonous fog. I begin the climb, grappling with tree roots and vines to pull myself up.

My shouted name comes from behind and I slip a few feet. I jerk my head around. A lantern appears from behind tree trunks, Olyn’s horse and Quin in its light, with a sword strapped across his back—no, not a sword. His cane.

He moves to the base of the incline and slides off his horse, looping the reins around a low-hanging branch. His cane comes out to steady him. He stares at me, unimpressed, and starts moving. “Let’s go.”

My gaze keeps flickering to him as we climb to the small clearing and the moonlit, serene pool. The stench of sick and decaying wyverns is gone, replaced by a cool, earthy breeze and the trickle of perfume on the tendrils of fog.

My steps feel as heavy as my chest. The eerie mist shifts back and forth with a foreboding, beckoning curl. Quin halts before it and faces me grimly, gesturing with his free arm. “After you.”

My breath shudders. I step forward, the air shifting around me like a living thing. A sharp pain blooms at my acupoints, and I crumple, the ground rushing up to meet me.

It’s the same move Quin used to leave me once before. Inside, I scream at him to release me, but no sound comes out of me. Just a whoosh of air.

Quin folds towards me, gaze dark and intent on mine. “My people. My responsibility.”

My heart pounds with another cry for him to listen to me, to stop, to forgive me for leading him here.You’re the king. You can’t risk yourself. The miasma—

He strokes my cheek with a touch so light it feels like a question. His fingers catch my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his. His dark eyes search mine, peeling back every shield I’ve built. “This fear,” he murmurs. “For me. For what I might face.” He leans in and whispers in a tortured voice. “Do you think I didn’t feel it for you?”

His words break something loose inside my chest. I can’t move, can’t speak, but I want to. I want to pull him in tight, beg him to stay, to let me go instead. My life is inconsequential.

Not even my finger twitches.

He leans closer, a sighed breath against my ear. “You are my biggest responsibility, Cael. You are mine to protect.”

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