Page 14 of The King's Man 4

Quin’s expression is unreadable. He takes a long time holding his form, staring at the target before he releases—

The arrow also hits the centre. He lowers the bow and quietly flexes his hand. He’s feeling the strain.

Scattered raindrops fall from the sky.

Nicostratus’s bow creaks under his grip, the string taut and ready to sing. He takes aim at the target another dozen yards back; his third arrow slices through the rain, its path unerring.

Quin adjusts his posture, his injured leg braced at the wall. Rain drips from his hat as he draws his bowstring.

My stomach is a series of knots with more forming.

Thunder rumbles through the earth, and the sky cracks open with blinding light. Water cascades down, heavy and strong.

Nicostratus murmurs, “Even the heavens are against you—”

In a blink of an eye, a series of swift, strong movements, Quin has aimed and fired his last shot. The arrow sings through the rain and slides along Nicostratus’s, sinking deep into the centre of the target.

My breath catches. Even Nicostratus has frozen.

Nicostratus’s arrow creaks under Quin’s and falls.

“You . . .”

“I will save you, brother,” Quin says quietly. “But I must save him, too.”

“I can help him—”

“I’ll send someone for his things.” A small twister lifts me a few feet off the ground and gravity shoots through me as I’m deposited over his shoulder. My pulse quickens.

“Let me go.” I yell, but it comes out weak—broken, breathless.

Quin forges ahead with me dangling down his back. I struggle tiredly against him and the winds surrounding us, but my limbs are useless.

Nicostratus watches our retreat across the courtyard with a tight jaw; before I lose sight of him, I call, “Next full moon. The tree, from when we were boys...”

Ishut my eyes and give up my feeble resistance. The winds are strong, but at least they’re whipping out the worst of the rainwater from my clothes. Once we’re in the boat, Quin releases his magical hold on me and steers us along the water in silence.

He takes us to a small inn, close to the constabulary. It’s a robust, cozy place filled with soft chatter. The moment Quin appears in his uniform, snapping his cane, the innkeeper welcomes him back, asking if he had a busy day. Quin barks out a bitter laugh and requests extra blankets and clothing to be brought to his rooms. He leads me through a humming dining area, where the warmth from a fire briefly warms my damp clothes.

“Come along.” We head outside and cross a yard to a small communal bathing area, the pool overwhelmingly scented with rose and lavender.

The relaxing herb has no effect on Quin. He spares a tight look at aklos pouring buckets of heated water into the bath; theyand a nearby guest scurry away, leaving us alone in the dimly lit room.

A few fine strings knot low in my stomach and I cast my head down.

Quin steps close with an exclamatory snap of his cane. He reaches out and yanks open the knot holding my cloak. It puddles to the floor, and he pushes me to the single bench in the room. I fall back onto it, and my boots are being pulled off. When I’m plucked to my undergarments, he grabs me by the scruff and steers me to the bath. I land inside with a splash and a sputter, scented water stinging my eyes.

When I’ve finally cleared them, Quin is at the other end of the bath. He rests his head back against the edge and closes his eyes.

“What are you doing?” I cough out.

“You were shivering. Warm up.”

“Why areyouin here?”

He keeps his eyes closed. “Making sure you don’t drown in self pity.”

I scowl. So much for his promise only to share his bath with the person he gave his lovelight to. “You’re angry with me. Let it out.”

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