Page 6 of The King's Man 3
She laughs weakly when I bring it up, her breath catching mid-sentence. “Nothing you could’ve done.”
At least I could have needled some acupoints, curbed her suffering a little.
I spend the night poring over armfuls of books from the forgotten library, the flickering candlelight blurring the text. Spells for healing burns, staving off infection, even for regrowing limbs—but nothing for her.
She groans and I’m at her side instantly, holding her hand as another spasm racks her body. Her face is pale, drawn, but she still finds my efforts to distract her amusing. I tell her how Quin once pretended to be an aklo to meet my family and howmy mother took one look at him and declared he should marry Akilah.
“You spend a lot of time together,” she muses.
“Mostly accidentally,” I reply. “And definitely to his chagrin.”
She chuckles, though it’s cut short by another wave of pain.
The duke must have known; Quin’s façade of indifference wouldn’t fool him. This is punishment—a demonstration of power. No doubt Quin already knows.
He’ll be on his way back. At the news of his mother’s delayed medication, he would’ve torn away from his entourage, riding day and night, stopping only to change horses. And when he arrives, when Casimiria gets the antidote, he’ll...
Casimiria’s hiss snaps me out of the thought. Her fingers are crushed in my grip.
I loosen my hold. “Your son is smart,” I murmur. “He knows what to do.”
She gives me a faint smile, on the brink of sleep. “He’s a good man. I want him to live.”
I sit with her through the night, the sticky air pressing down, my knees aching from the weight of it all.
The first pale light of morning filters into the tower. I drag myself upright, wiping at my gritty eyes.
Casimiria squirms on her mat, her discomfort evident. I take her outside, hoping the fresh air and some food will help. Akilah and I coax her toward the herb patch, where we sit on a woven mat and I receive a lesson on how to playChaos of the Escape.
I stare at the unfamiliar symbols on my wooden cards, groaning theatrically. “Akilah, help me!”
She laughs, reaching over to tap the card I should play.
Her help doesn’t last. Soon, she’s leaving me to fend for myself. I throw down a card at random.
Casimiria shakes her head, amused. “Try again.”
“This game’s aptly named,” I mutter.
Air stirs behind me, and I feel Akilah’s return. “Finally,” I say. “Which card?”
A hand points, and I freeze.
Not Akilah’s hand.
Blunt nails, calloused fingers, familiar strength.
I grab the fingers and still for a heart-quickening moment. Then I slowly turn.
I launch myself up to grab his face and check every inch of it for signs of ill health. His cheeks are flushed, lips full and smooth, but his eyes are heavy with fatigue. His spirit is laden with worry, and he’s depleted his magical energies.
He must have come straight here. “You’ve exhausted yourself. Get Florentius to prepare you some pearl heart.”
Quin cocks his head, his expression unreadable. “Interesting.”
His voice and the darkening intensity of his eyes bring me to my senses. I drop my hands from his face and scramble back. “Instincts.”
“You’re supposed to be distancing yourself,” I snap. “Don’t make my sacrifice for nothing.”
