Page 37 of The King's Man 4

He lets go of my finger. “Please don’t come between me and my brother.”

I slump onto the armchair and watch him sleep. He was drunk; maybe most of this conversation will be forgotten when he wakes. I drop my head back and stare at the flickering candlelight against the ceiling.

I’m asleep when the candles burn out, and when I stir, it’s to a blueish dawn stretching through gridded windows. I rub my eyes, and the night before rushes back to me. I lurch to my feet. Nicostratus is sitting on the edge of his bed, hands clasped between his knees.

He looks over at me, and I look back.

“Nicostratus—”

“I remember everything,” he murmurs. “I meant everything.”

Please don’t come between me and my brother.

“I can’t go yet. There are so many poisoned, I—”

“I’ll help tomorrow at the drakopagon. I beg you, say your goodbyes. Go.”

His expression is heartbroken, pleading.

“This... envy. It’ll be the ruin of us. Please. I’ll take care of him. I’ll see he finds happiness.” His throat juts on a swallow. “It doesn’t have to be you.”

My stomach sinks, and my eyes sting. It takes all my effort to hold my head up. “Will you also find happiness?”

“If I promise to, will you go?”

I briefly shut my eyes. “I have to help the refugees.”

“It’s not as if you have magic anymore—”

I cry out, “I can help!”

He moves forward, reaching out a consoling hand, and drops it again. “When the poisoned are healthy, then...”

My throat is swollen. It hurts.

I take the golden feather from my belt and place it on the table beside us. Nicostratus stares at it, and I startle him by wrapping my arms around his waist and pressing my forehead against his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nicostratus.”

He stiffens.

I sigh into his garments. “Let me take away our good memories?”

A watery drop lands on the top of my head. When I step back, he hurriedly turns his face to the wall.

I make my way to the door slowly, wishing he’d stop me, tell me with time, it’ll all be alright.

He says nothing.

I traipse back through the city, hood shadowing my face, stomach roiling. Procrastinating, I take a detour through narrow, near-empty lanes, only to bang into Petros tucking a package of herbs under his arm.

He acknowledges me politely.

“Hangover remedy?” I murmur.

He shifts the package higher up and nods. “Better hurry back.”

He and his long legs stride off to help the prince, and I stare glumly after him.

I’m so busy staring after him, I almost don’t see her. Only a false step over cobblestone has me jerkily looking up in the other direction.

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