Page 15 of The King's Man 4

“I watched you refusing to help the sick.”

I stare at lavender heads and rose petals floating in the water.

“This is not the Cael I know.”

I swallow. “You’ve seen me hesitate before.”

Quin wades along the side of the bath and stops beside me. His thin undershirt clings translucently to his chest. Seeing the outline of the flutette has my stomach knotting tighter. “Before, you hesitated for your family’s safety.” He lifts my chin to meet his eye. “Why didn’t you help today?”

“Ican’t.”

“Nonsense.”

My breath catches in my throat. I jerk my chin from his grasp and stare across the bath.

“You can diagnose by observation and pulse reading. You know which foods can aid health. You’ve helped those allergic to magic. You understand the healing properties of a thousand plants. The application might differ, but you have enough knowledge to give more than basic aid.”

My stomach churns, and I step back from the intensity of Quin’s observation.

“I don’t want to see you go against your principles.”

The lump in my throat is impossible to swallow.

“Y-you’re disappointed in me.”

Quin’s lips flatten, and a sudden surge of heat rushes to my eyes. I grit my teeth against it, but it’s too powerful. I twist my back to him, in time for the tear to land on the water’s surface.

I croak, “I... don’t know myself right now, either.” My stomach feels like it’s suffering a series of punches. “I don’tknow.”

Quin’s arms come around my shaking body and he pulls me against his chest, holding tight. My tears fall thick and heavy, splashing onto his arms.

His cheek presses against the side of my head. “No matter if you are a vitalian or a healer by crude methods, as long as it’s your dream to heal, I’ll support you.”

“By being blunt?” I choke out.

“When you need it.” His arms shift slightly around me.

I clutch his forearms tightly and the punches in my stomach rise to my chest. I shove his arms open and step away, turning in his direction, my gaze cast low. He waits, unmoving.

My voice is lost somewhere in my throat, and all I can do is nod while I find it again. “You didn’t need to take me away.”

He’s quiet a moment, then he wades back to his end of the bath and resumes lounging with his head cast towards theceiling. “Tomorrow we’ll help refugees move into huts near Thinking Hall.”

“That’s what you were organising when I tried to ‘destroy the royal seal’?”

Quin’s lips curve slightly. He knows he twisted the truth out of proportion.

I flick the surface of the water, spraying his grin.

He raises an eyebrow and sends a wave of water across the surface until it breaks over me.

I splutter, gulp in air, wipe at the drenched hair over my face, and climb out of the bath glaring daggers at his shut-eyed amusement.

Quin seats himself in the small dawn-soaked boat, and I clamber in across from him. He moves an oar out of my way, and winces. When he sets it down, he rolls his shoulder.

I recall his three bullseye shots yesterday. “You overdid it.”

“I did what I needed to.” He says it as a matter of fact, and my next breath slides along knotted threads in my stomach.

---