Page 182 of The King's Man
I’d throw them in a cell together and lock the door until they both learned to play nice.
Gall waved at the crowd, one hand high, even bouncing on his toes. My chest pinched. How was it possible that he was himself and yet had been the hand behind all these atrocities?
The stories crossed the continent and we gathered them like breadcrumbs left in the wake of a meal. At first I’d refused to believe that therealGall had anything to do with any of these tales of torment and murder.
But the further we traveled and the more we heard—both within the cities, and from Jann—the clearer the picture became.
Today I had prayed it wouldn’t be my son that I saw on this stage.
Yet… here he was.
Exuberant. Overstimulated. Bristling with childish pride as he walked back and forth on the edge of the stage, waving, and receiving the applause of the people.
And it was only then that I wondered…
Would Gall, who had always been drawn by false friendship have given himself to cruelty to receive the approval of the powerful?
Even the thought made me ill. But before I could pick it apart, Gall raised his hands for quiet, that thick, purple robe fluttering behind him, along with his wings. And the crowd settled.
The Advisors and General Jannus spread out in a half-circle behind him, all of them dressed in their finest. And there was no mistaking that they made an imposing scene.
Gall, handsome, chin high, and eyes bright, his already large body—which seemed even larger now, though it had only been a month or two since I’d seen him—and his warrior’s length swinging around his shoulders, which was impossible. Behind him, the tallest, strongest, smartest Nephilim in the Kingdom. The men of power and wealth. Even those who weren’t military held themselves with the confidence of true power. The power of men who were listened to when they spoke.
And somehow, their presence didn’t make Gall smaller. It… raised him up.
“What the fuck is going on?” I muttered.
Yilan squeezed my hand again.
Then Gall spoke, and the acoustics of the Coliseum lifted his voice into the night so it could be heard easily, even by us.
“Nephilim, I greet you. I am Gallus DannFalcyon.I am the Heir of Gaultes Falcyon, the closest in bloodline to the Fallen. And I am yourKing!”
As the crowd roared again, and Gall pumped a fist to the sky like a child thrilled by a game, I froze.
He’d taken Gault’s name?
Yilan whispered a curse, but the crowd was quieting again, the energy in the air crackling with anticipation—and tension. There was a reason Gall had called this audience. And why Yilan and I had abandoned plans to wait longer with the army and come to Valgorath alone in reconnaissance.
Gall had made it known he would prove his claim to the throne once and for all.Everyonewas coming to see that.
Gall dropped his arm and waited for the crowd to quiet again… and it was like watching him draw a blanket around himself. The excited smile faded to be replaced with cool detachment. And when he spoke, his tone lacked either the self-conscious anxietyorthoughtless exuberance that I was always accustomed to from him.
He sounded…stern.
“I have heard your whispers. You cheer me on parade, then question my rule in my absence. You say you fear me, then defy me at every turn. You celebrate my victory, then listen to my enemies and draw back when my back is turned. You know who I am. You know my claim to the crown. Yet you still demand that I prove myself to you. I have been doubted at every step and I will. Not. Accept it. Anymore.” He went still, glaring at the crowd, then roared,“You brought this on yourself!”
There was a moment of confusion, some nervous laughter that was quickly shushed, and the tension in the Coliseum coiled tighter.
Gall turned on his heel, prowling across the stage, his eyes narrowed to slits. The robe, along with his wings, made him seem to swell.
He had grown since he left me—or it was the presence he now carried, the one I feared had made this shift in him. However it had happened, my son carried more than a title. As he stormed across that stage, he pressed himself on those watching, even at the back.
My blood ran cold.
“You think I don’t know your true thoughts?” he hissed as if they were in conversation. “You think I cannot draw your rebellion out of you like pus from a wound? Raise your hand if you believe I have not heard your laughter behind closed doors.Stand up and own your shit, you who call me a fool,when the fool is you!”
He whirled then, one hand snapping up to point towards his Advisors and my heart stopped. For a split second I was certain he’d discovered Jann’s subterfuge. Until a tall, trim Neph standing two down from Jann in the blue robe of a merchant made a high, strangled cry unlike I’d ever heard and the crowd gasped.
