Page 68 of The King's Man 4

“This is the most sacred land in the kingdom—all the linea pilgrimage to the Great Violet Oak. Why wouldn’t we gorge on such a banquet?”

I steal the spear from Megaera and press the sharp tip against his chest wound until he grunts and my hands shake. “Why do you kill us like this?”

“We rarely kill. We maim meridians.”

“Why!”

“Why should only those with magic hold power? Our kingdom will be better when we’re all on equal footing. Destroying meridians is about equality. About being fair.”

My hands tremble so violently Megaera has to catch the spear as I lose my grip. “Your fair is not my fair. There’s no such thing as fair.”

Megaera flicks her wrist, a bolt of magic sparking between us, and she hisses, “Cael... your meridians...”

I stare at the crusader.

“It was you who released those redcloaks,” the crusader grunts.

My eyes sting. I yank myself back, refusing to let him see a tear. “Let’s go, Megaera.”

Her sultry laughter stills me. “You’re right. He’s not worthy of healing.”

I slice my stinging eyes to hers. “That’s not what—”

“Then what are you doing?” She glides before me, whispering at my ear, making me shiver. “Why does this hesitation feel so familiar?”

“They’re not . . . mortal wounds,” I say weakly.

“Fair enough!” She hooks an arm around mine and pulls, but it feels like a test.

I don’t move. “He won’t die.”

“Come on, then.”

A suppressed grunt from behind hits me like sharp needles. He’s in pain. There’s danger around.

I squeeze my fists. He hurt me. This is fair.

My fair is not his fair, either.

Leaving him here, in a forest of wild animals and battling factions... Can I be responsible for what may happen?

What kind of healer does that make me? What kind of person?

I swallow thickly, peel Megaera off me, and turn to the grimacing crusader. I drop to my knees, gripping his bad arm. “This will hurt. Bear through it.”

He cocks a smirk, and I angle his limb into position—

The crusader’s cry shakes through the woods.

“Admit it,” he gasps, “that was satisfying.”

I stitch up his chest wound. “Stay away from the stormblades for now.”

“Can’t.”

“You must, or you’ll rip open your wound. If they don’t hurt you worse.”

“Stormblades delivered my boy to a Skeldar ship. I must get him back.”

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