Page 73 of The King's Man 3

Olyn and I simultaneously grab his hands and throw him off us. He laughs and reaches for a wine jug. “Tonight, we must drink to good fortune—” he tips wine into his mouth and gulps “—longevity for all, and easy visits to the privy.”

He sets a jug before me and hesitates with the other. Olyn helps by snatching it from him and drinking deeply. “To a safe journey south,” she says to me.

I clink my jug against hers. “To peaceful days for you and Kastoria.”

We take turns with the jugs, drinking steadily. Bastion performs all kinds of tricks with pebbles and tries to get us to lay down money in bets Olyn and I know we’d lose. “You’re right, of course,” he says. “I’m best at all games.”

“All? What about games of wit?” Olyn snorts.

“How else could I trick the rich into parting with their silver?” He laughs and eyes me. “Dare to play?” He takes my jug and finishes it. “I’ll make the stakes worth your while.”

A few of his men stumble into the courtyard, and Bastion bellows at them to bring out a chess board. When it arrives, he shoos the drunken vespertines away and sets up the game between my lantern and Olyn’s.

“He’s a weasel, Cael,” Olyn says. “He wants your money.”

Bastion shakes a finger. “I will not play for money.”

I narrow my eyes on him.

He captures my foot between his under the table. “If I win, I want you to marry me.”

I kick him away.

“Fine, fine,” he concedes. “If I win, how about a kiss on my cheek?”

“And if I win?”

“You can have all the kisses you want.” I rise, preparing to leave, and he waves me back into my seat. “What do you want?”

I stare at the board, at the figures Quin has taught me to manoeuvre. I meet Bastion’s eye. “The route your vespertines take out of town.”

“Consider it yours.”

Olyn whispers at my ear, “Do you know how to play?”

“Theoretically,” I whisper back.

“What does that mean?”

“I’ve never won before.”

“Cael!”

I shake my head and calm her. “I was playing against the best.”

Olyn looks from me to the board, uneasy. My stomach flips too... but it’s more important to secure a way out of town that avoids the influx of redcloaks after Quin the moment the gates open.

I try to call up a sobering spell, but I’ve drunk too much and my magic fizzles. I ask Olyn to hit my guardian’s point, vital channel, and scapular acupoints. It isn’t as effective as magic, but it should make me less dizzy.

She hits those points and then jabs my wing’s arc. My mind instantly sharpens.

“What was—”

“Seen a lot of drunk men. I learned this technique from a southern healer. Adding the wing’s arc acupoint increases internal strength. It, ah, doesn’t last very long. A few minutes. Enough to get a man back to their home.”

I ask if I can try it on her and she lets me. “Much better,” she says, and gestures to the board. “Hopefully this gives you an advantage.”

Bastion snorts, and the game begins.

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