Page 79 of The King's Man 3

More are crushing in, surrounding us.

Quin grabs his brother around the waist with one arm, and me with his other. A forceful twister lifts the three of us into the air. Such a surge of magic! It’ll drain him. Already our rise is not swift...Quin is close to exhaustion.He’s injured.

Through swirling air I spy the first ring of crusaders bracing against the wind, the second and third rings throwing their spears towards us. Most are blasted away, but the master is back and his spear hurtles toward Quin’s chest, breaking clean through the twisting air. It will hit Quin; it will pierce his middle. It will kill him.

Urgency, fear, and instinct rattle through me in a single breath, and I fling my outer arm around Quin’s neck, crushing myself into a hug against his body.

“Heal your people,” I croak into his neck just before the spear pierces between my shoulder blades, slicing though flesh and bone.

Searing agony lances through me, and my words turn into a cry.

My vision comes in and out of focus. I hear agonised yells from a distance—my name, over and over. I sag. Gravity and pain race through me, but I never hit ground. I’m held tightly. Green forest blurs under me. The sky is dark; speckles of stars coming out. Am I becoming one?

Blood tickles down my back and the metallic scent fills my nose. Pain turns to numbness.

My life is slipping away.

But Quin, Nicostratus... they are safe. We’re far from the ruins, and the crusaders.

More pressure surrounds me. My wispy breaths taste familiar, pleasant. A comforting scent to leave the world with.

“How many times do I have to say it?” Quin’s voice trembles, fierce and raw, and I try to hook onto it like it’ll anchor me to this world. But my hearing fades into a sharp ringing in my ears, and my body feels like it’s falling off a cliff awaiting the final crash.

His voice chases after me. “Your life is mine.”

I use the last of my energy to curl my lips.

The final crash, the final breath... it never comes.

Something soft cushions me. Someone prods me, demanding I wake. There’s pressure around me, something brushing against my ear; words I can’t decipher.

Then there’s warmth. A surge of warmth that blooms through me.

It unfurls with ticklish energy beyond any spell I’ve experienced before. I can feel my bones knit together, muscle and flesh repairing itself. Life trickles back into me. And with the life comes an overwhelming exhaustion. A privilege of the living. My breathing steadies and a deep, healing slumber steals me into a dark yet comfortable abyss.

I wake to jewelled fastenings brushing my arm; the king’s bowed head at my side. He’s murmuring stories. One about a healer overcoming every heartbreaking obstacle in his pursuit to heal the heart of the kingdom.

My fingers twitch under the warm weight of his hand clasping mine.

Quin snaps his head up, his fingers closing tightly. The even lull of his voice breaks into a rasp. “Cael.”

Shadowed skin rings his eyes, a sure sign of sleepless nights. How long?

I breathe in deeply, and out. There’s no pain. I’ve been well healed, and sleep has thickened my blood. I feel healthy, if a little stiff.

Dark eyes, usually ablaze with determination, are closing briefly with relief. He reopens them, gaze roaming my face, and I catch the shimmer in his eyes. His jaw clenches as he tries to control himself.

My throat is dry. “Quin.”

Fragile light flickers in his eyes and his fingers tremble. Maybe I’m not entirely healed because I suddenly ache. With my free hand, I touch my chest, and Quin’s posture stiffens, his gaze sharpening with a promise that whatever is ailing me, he’ll find a way to make it better.

I open my mouth to tell him I’ll be fine but my throat closes on an overwhelming feeling of... rawness. I squeeze his fingers and try to sit up. His arm comes around my back, and we’re a cocoon of uneven breaths as he steadies me.

“Thank you.”

His gaze holds mine, voice soft. “What were you thinking?”

“It was the only way.”

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