Page 100 of The King's Man 1

His face pales as he inspects them, and his voice comes out scratched. “By who?”

I’m quiet. I promised to keep Nicostratus’s identity secret. I’m afraid, though. If he works with officials in the palace, Quin must recognise the beads.

He’s gripping them now, his gaze dark and tight.

“Please give them back.”

A hollow, broken laugh and a furious whisper, “Prince Nicostratus? Are you out of your mind?”

I snatch the beads from him and tie them tightly to my belt.

“You’re... He’s...”

I snap, “Are you also against the prince?”

A blank stare. The slow, disbelieving shake of his head. A deep, confused frown.

“Are you?” I demand.

Quin’s jaw clenches, his frown deepening. “I’m one of the few looking out for him!”

“If you’re not against him, then is it me you have a problem with?”

“You...” His hands grip my arms, his face paling. “You’rethe reason—” He shakes me, inspects me, face flashing with fury—“Youwere condemned? About to be executed?”

Is this important?

“I used some of Nicostratus’s beads to get to the cells—Akilah had been falsely accused. The redcloaks— It doesn’t matter. We’re safe, thanks to Nicostratus.”

Quin throws his head skyward. “This is—” He stops cold. Turns to me. “You said he was summoned home?”

“An aklo had his brother’s badge. Why are you looking like that? The king is one of the few people Nicostratus trusts!”

Quin’s hands are a blur of urgent movement. Wind surges around and under him instantly; he’s hoisted into the air and then dropped into his saddle below.

I’m left sprawled on roof tiles where I was tossed off his cloak. I pick myself up and clamber down from the roof, onto a tree, to the cobbled street. What is going on?

I swallow and touch Nicostratus’s beads. He promised to send word when he could. I have to believe everything’s fine. Quin was... he was surprised. He has to seek answers, possibly from the prince himself... Maybe my having his beads puts him in a difficult position?

I feel for the beads among the pouches on my belt again, and my stomach curdles.

I check all again, thoroughly, in case I missed it.

My Poison Halting Miracle.

Gone.

* * *

My first attempts to recreate my innovation are fraught with mental distractions. In a fit of frustration, I accidentally blow up a vase in Quin’s room. I groan at the thought of having to explain that.

I sink into a carved chair, drumming my fingers on the armrest. I need to clear my mind of Nicostratus, Quin, and all distractions. Tomorrow is crucial. If I don’t pass, my dream ends here.

The loss of my Poison Halting Miracle weighs heavily on me. I remember the last time I had it, back in this very academy. In the chaos of leaving, someone had bumped into me. Could that have...

I exhale sharply, shaking off the frustration. I can’t let this defeat me.

Straightening up, I resume my work. It’s a tedious process that involves consuming various teas, which fortunately the kitchens supply. The spell usually burns hot in my hand, but my gloves protect me. I gather the spell and, with practised precision, release it. A swirling ball of mist forms in the air. I manipulate it, condensing and capturing it.

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