Page 1 of The King's Man 3
Fog coils, smothering Akilah and me in damp, oppressive grey. The chill seeps through our clothes, gnawing at our bones. Akilah’s trembling hand clutches at my soldad, pulling me back into harsh reality.
I’ve become a pawn in the high duke’s game.
“Your dream,” she murmurs, her voice breaking. Her head droops onto my shoulder and I pull her close, fighting the raw lump in my throat.
“You’re my dream too,” I whisper against her hair.
Her teeth chatter uncontrollably; I force us to our feet, scanning the desolate landscape for shelter. The crumbling silhouette of a castle rises above the island like a spectre. We trudge toward it, our steps heavy as the pebbly shore gives way to coffinweed. The stench of decay thickens, curling in my throat.
My foot catches on something hidden in the weeds, sending us sprawling into the dirt. Akilah lands hard, her breath hitching with pain. “You alright?” I scramble to help her up.
A voice grumbles from the shadows, rough and irritated. “I’d be better if you hadn’t trod on me.”
A man rises from the ground, brushing off his cloak. He’s thin and grimy, the lines on his weathered face sharp in the dim light. Eerily familiar, though roughened. A book dangles loosely from his hand.
Akilah gasps, her grip tightening on my arm—not in fear, but in recognition. “Florentius...” she whispers.
The man snorts. “Wrong brother,” he says. His gaze flickers between us, guarded. “Do I know you?”
I shake my head, my throat dry. “Your brother’s... my friend.”
“Little Florentius made a friend?” His laugh is disbelieving but softens as his eyes land on Akilah. “You’re hurt.”
“The duke—” I begin, but the words catch in my throat.
His expression darkens; he pulls a pipe from his cloak, lighting it with practised ease. Smoke curls around him like a protective barrier. “Come on, then,” he says. “I’ll take you somewhere she can rest.”
Lucius leads us through a decaying courtyard, his pipe glowing faintly in the mist. “Water’s over there,” he says with a casual wave. “Rations are tight. Boil it first, skim the scum, try not to think too much about what you’re drinking.”
Grubby men shuffle past, their hollow eyes avoiding mine. The air is thick with the brittle sound of laughter edged with despair.
Inside the castle, it’s colder. The gallery is dimly lit by narrow windows casting pale light over rows of bedmats. Half are occupied. Lucius retrieves two threadbare blankets from a creaking cupboard and tosses them in our direction. “Spare mats are over there. Make yourselves comfortable.”
I lower Akilah onto a mat at the far end, away from the others. Her pulse is weak but steady. She needs real rest—healing sleep—but I don’t see how that’s possible in a place like this.
“Do you have any herbs? Anything for the pain?” I ask.
Lucius exhales a long plume of smoke, his expression unreadable. “I’ve got something,” he says finally. “Come with me.”
Down and down we descend, the air growing thick and heavy. The cellar is low vaulted and smoky, filled with grimy tables where people huddle, coughing between throws of the dice.
Lucius acknowledges a rather discordantly elegant woman rising from a card table; she eyes me with bright curiosity and leads me to a curtained alcove. He gestures to a small table cluttered with books and opens a drawer. Capsules glint faintly in the lantern light. “These will help with the pain.”
I take one, rolling it between my fingers. “What’s in them?”
Lucius leans back in his chair, his eyes half lidded as he puffs on his pipe. “Belief. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”
The capsule crumbles under the pressure of my grip, revealing an empty core. My chest tightens.
“The real herbs are gone,” he says, his tone flat. “What else is there to do?”
A wave of hot abhorrence slams over me. I crush the empty capsules in my hand, the glittering shells crumbling into dust.
The betrayal burns as I storm out of Lucius’s alcove, the smoky, oppressive air of the cellar giving way to the harsh, damp cold of the courtyard, then to the stifling air of the sleeping area.
At least a dozen people are coughing violently. The pervasive stench of sickness clings to the air. My stomach churns as I spot Akilah on her mat, her face pinched with pain.
I stop abruptly, drawing unwanted attention. Heads swing my way, then quickly turn back to their meagre meals.
