Page 22 of The King's Man 2

But even after an hour of trying to suppress it, his voice lingers. Thankfully, Florentius knocks on my door. It’s our final day of health checks on King’s Island until next month, and the last thing I want is to arrive as the king is roaming his gardens. Better to get there early and hide myself behind footsore aklas.

Florentius leads the way down the corridor, pristine in his white robes. “Chiron wants to see us.”

I stall and my stomach curdles. Each step forward feels heavier than the last.

At the second staircase, Florentius glances over his shoulder. “You’re unusually quiet.”

This is not the normal bounce I storm up here with, either. “I... met the king yesterday.”

“You acted as you should, I hope,” Florentius says. “No looking, no speaking, no touching.”

I recall every past interaction with Quin. Yanking him away from Frederica. Fondling him for his gold-threaded underwear. Telling him he’s a useless king. Pretending to be a travelling scholar and drunkenly crashing in his bed. Calling him too unlikeable to inspire loyalty in his aklos. Giving him amorous perfume, spilling it, landing in his lap. Covering his mouth several times to stop him speaking. Declaring him ignorable. Flicking his head! Clutching his naked leg while he took a bath!

Slapping him.

Florentius has stopped at the newel post, watching me claw my way to the top of the stairs.

“Um,” I say, hoarsely, “pretty much. No looking, no speaking, no touching.”

I give him a wan smile and follow him into the richly scented apothecary.

Chiron is already there, pacing between shelves of dried herbs, cloak flicking at every turn. He stops sharply when he sees us and jerks a finger at the tables we use for lessons. “Finally. Sit.”

I slink onto a seat and stare at the desk.

Chiron clears his throat. “Why has the king requested you be transferred?”

Transferred.

My stomach feels heavy and I cradle it.

He doesn’t want to see me again.

Florentius says, confused and indignant, “To where?” Then, hopeful, “To the other—”

“You’re deluded if you think you can... This is not the time for that discussion.”

Florentius’s posture deflates beside mine.

Chiron stands in front of me, expectant. “What happened?”

My cheeks burn. The king could have me beheaded for that uncontrolled outburst. He’s only sending me away to another part of the royal city.He’s had enough of me.

My throat aches as I swallow. “It’s my fault. Nothing to do with Florentius.”

“You’re supposed to report directly if one of your spells fails.”

I open my mouth to tell him it wasn’t a spell that went wrong, but the truth will have more serious consequences. “A... hair growth spell went awry. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. Your chances of becoming a medius-complex vitalian have decreased dramatically. I’ll have to take this into consideration at your examination. You are already struggling.” He sighs. “Have you given thought to dropping out?”

Florentius’s head swings my way; I can’t tell if he’s hopeful I will, or surprised his father suggested it.

“I say this,” Chiron says, “to protect you. Another mistake might have more serious consequences. Might cost you your medius vitalian status.” I squeeze my soldad, heart pounding. “Might cost youeverything.”

Tight silence follows until Chiron breaks it with a pat on my shoulder. “Give me an answer by six tomorrow morning.

“For today,” he continues, “you’re both free unless the others need support. Use your time wisely. Florentius, I suggest you read up on transplantation theory. Get a head start.”

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