Page 9 of The King's Man 3

I don’t respond.

“No doubt he’ll pay you a visit,” the duke continues, his tone deceptively casual.

I grip the edge of the pot tighter.

“This is the part where you ask what I want you to do,” he says, mirth lacing his words.

“What do you want me to do?” I manage, my voice tight.

“Convince the king to declare his heir early. The ceremony will take place at the end of next week.”

My stomach twists. “The prince isn’t even five—”

The duke waves a dismissive hand.

I grit my teeth. “I’m a lowborn vitalian. How could I possibly influence the king?”

“You’ll ensure Constantinos agrees to change the laws. Or your akla will be the first to go.”

My nails dig into my palm.

He steps closer, a slow smile spreading across his face. “The ceremony requires living members of the prince’s bloodline to attend. You will accompany Constantinos’s mother as her aklo and serve him at the ceremony. Tea.”

My chest tightens; I suck in a sharp breath.

The duke’s smile turns cruel. He leans in, his voice dropping. “It has to be you. He trusts you.”

A wave of nausea rises, and I brace myself against the table. “You’re sick.”

“And you’re smart enough to obey,” he says, straightening. “Your family’s lives depend on it.”

By the time I reach the north tower, the weight of the duke’s words feels like a physical ache.

Quin and Casimiria are meditating under the window. At the sound of my dragging footsteps, Quin’s eyes flick open.

“I’ll be right with you,” he murmurs, his voice low and steady.

Take as long as you need. Take forever.

So I don’t have to tell you . . .

I sink onto the bed mat, burying my face in my hands.

“I’m ready now,” Casimiria says softly, breaking the silence.

“You haven’t taken it yet?” I ask, startled.

She lifts the small, black capsule into the light. “I needed to gather my strength first.”

An idea sparks, cutting through the haze of despair. “May I...” I scramble toward her but trip, slamming into Quin.

He catches me, his hands warm and steady around my waist. “Did he ask you to throw me from the tower?” he quips lightly.

I jerk away, my heart pounding for reasons I can’t untangle. “Don’t joke,” I snap.

Casimiria hands me the capsule, and I clutch it tightly, focusing on the magic within. Blood—tinged with something rare and elusive.

“What if I extract half of it?” I ask, looking to her.

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