Page 70 of The King's Man 3

“Did you gauge it?”

“I’m confident he’ll keep your secret and be safe doing so.”

“You can see how much he’s hurting; how much he’s missing me...” I choke on my words.

A pained expression flickers over Quin’s face and he quickly masks it. “I could have revealed you.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Quin speaks simply, “I like having you to myself.”

“Quin . . .”

A sharp look. “You must have some idea how I feel about you.”

I expel air in a rush. I recall the royal city, asking him if he had feelings for me, his responding outrage. “You told me I was being arrogant.”

“That you were arrogant. Not that you were wrong.”

“Your brother—”

“Is he really the one you love?”

I swallow. His gaze is firm on mine, insistent. Tightness pulls at my chest. My breathing alters, uneven. “I...”

“Is he?”

“Yes!”

Quin sinks back with a huffed laugh before growing quiet. He doesn’t look at me, but it feels like all his awareness surrounds me, analysing my every shift.

“If you’re certain,” he says finally, sitting upright like he might be talking to any of his subordinates, “forget this conversation.”

I swallow, stomach uneasy with . . . with guilt.

Quin waves his hand, a clear dismissal. “I’ll tell him the truth about you in Hinsard.”

“Youaremy friend.”

His snaps his gaze to mine. “Don’t console me. These feelings came unwanted; they’ll go easily enough.”

“I don’t want things to be awkward.”

“Lean in!”

I buckle over the desk before him.

He flicks my forehead. “I’m past it already.”

It’s to this scene that Bastion and his men enter the office. Quin swiftly shifts his attention to them, while I slump back to my stool with clammy palms and butterflies. Ticklish... relief.

“... calculations. As long as we’re careful, the food should last.” Bastion is a whir of movement as he draws out a short sword and points it at the king. His men unhook their whips and they unfurl to the floor at the ready.

I leap to my feet, knocking over my stool, and snatch Bastion’s sword-wielding arm.

“Let go,” he snaps at me.

“What are you doing?” I demand.

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