Page 67 of The King's Man 3

After a long moment searching my face, the air softens again. He shifts his hand and gently pries each of my fingers off the wood. “Come.”

It takes some time to get to the magistrate’s office, townspeople stopping us on our way with praises and thanks. Bastion crosses the courtyard to us, leading a laden horse. My horse. I rush to the packs and open them. Grandfather’s books. My clothes. And in its purse, the money Quin gave me.

I look sharply at Bastion, who’s having a stare-off with the king. “How did you get this?”

He reluctantly pulls away from the game and grins at me. “Woman in red—” His gaze snaps to the main gates. I peek under the neck of the horse, trying to see what stole his attention. Redcloaks, matching silk masks covering their noses and mouths, are pulling in carts of food.

One is familiar—the sweep of his shoulders, the grace with which he moves. I bolt upright.

Quin throws me an urgent command. “Inside, behind the screens in the office.”

I obey immediately.

To the rest of the world, I’m dead. I can’t be seen.

Please let me see him. Let me know he’s well.

I’m crouched behind the screens, peering through a thin gap, when Quin snaps his way inside. He seats himself in the head magistrate’s chair and calls for his brother to enter.

Nicostratus pulls off his mask and seats himself across from Quin. His eyes are heavy with the weight of the world—the spark he’d always had, despite so much hardship, lost. Tied around his head is a long, flowing silver ribbon.

He speaks first. “I was afraid . . .”

“Don’t be fooled by the hair. It’s not the effect of life-shortening tea.”

Nicostratus leans forward, whispering, “You mean . . .”

“I’m not dying.” Quin glances toward my hiding place. “Neither am I allowed to.”

“Your magic is blocked.”

“Mm.”

Nicostratus rises and comes to his brother’s side, hand glowing with rich magic. Potent enough to open a king’s spiritual meridians. He presses Quin’s shoulder; the glow sweeps over him and sinks inside.

I shuffle closer to the narrow gap, to better glimpse the brothers, and the screen wobbles—

I try to steady it but there’s nothing to grab without giving my presence away—

A gust whisks around the room, and Quin’s gaze darts in my direction as suddenly everything shifts and rattles and then is caressed until it’s still. The screen is back in its place.

“Looks like you’re free again,” Nicostratus murmurs. He returns to his seat, while Quin clears his throat and tells his brother—avoiding any mention of me—what happened during that time in the palace and up to this point.

Nicostratus lets out a shuddery breath. “I’ve worried, brother.”

“I kept much from you. Forgive me for that.”

Nicostratus bows his head. “You needed the act to look real. You’re well, that’s all that matters.”

“What also matters is that your position in the royal city is safe, with my son named heir. I’m relieved, knowing you are able to watch over my boy, and my queen.”

“They miss you. They mourn you. Uncle treats them with insincere kindness.”

Quin is quiet.

Nicostratus clears his throat. “I heard rumours you were sighted in this part of the country. When we got news of the outbreak, I had to check... I organised food relief and joined a newly established unit. They believe I’m a spiritless recruit.”

“You got past the redcloaks upholding the quarantine.”

---