Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
The redcloak shuts the door behind them. Skriniaris Evander looks up first and his eyes flicker in surprise at my patient. When Vitalian Horus registers the richly dressed Quin, he palms the wall to stop himself falling into it. “Y-your—”
“I’m just an eparch.” Quin spears him an annoyed look. “Don’t look so stunned.”
Horus shakes his head.
Quin splays his arms. “Give us your verdict, then.”
Horus frowns and searches the room for cues—
“Don’t guess what I want you to say,” Quin snarls. “Judge as you should! He’s like any other scholar.”
Horus drops to his knees, high-pitched apologies tumbling out of his mouth.
I flick the side of Quin’s head. “You’re scaring him.”
Horus gapes, eyes wide.
I offer him a hand up and lower my voice. “Don’t worry, he deserves it.”
“The result,” Quin barks.
I warn him to cool his temper with a curled finger, ready to release, and he moves to bite me.
A laugh bubbles up before I recall I’m still angry he tried to sabotage my exam. I restore my scowl. Skriniaris Evander watches us, rapt, from his corner.
Horus inches over to Quin, hovers his fingers at his extended wrist, and hesitatingly drops them to read his pulse.
His gaze flickers in surprise. “Did you aid the candidate in any—”
“How presumptuous!”
Horus scurries back. “Forgive me. Only one other candidate managed to steady his patient’s pulse.” He eyes me in disbelief. “I never thought—”
“No, it seems you don’t. How do you rank his result?”
Horus frowns at the floor, eyes moving side to side as if analysing and comparing in his head. “Both stitched the source of the wound and found substitutes for snow silkworm. Florentius used a more elegant spell for internal warmth, but . . .”
“But?” Quin says.
“But the effect is the same. In fact, for not using a spell, Amuletos’s method—sealing your meridians—is . . .”
“Brave?”
“And”—Horus bows his head—“ingenious.”
Skriniaris Evander beams at me, and my voice fails, coming out as wobbly as I feel inside. I grip Quin’s shoulder to keep steady. “What are you saying?”
Vitalian Horus looks at me. “The merits of your solution are equal to his.”
“Equal?”
Quin’s lips press tight. He turns his head to me. “He’s saying both you and Florentius Chiron . . .”
“What?”
He grimaces. “Shall study in the royal city.”
Thank you for reading The King’s Man book I.
Read on for a bonus flashback scene of Cael and the prince. And then check out book II for their continuing romantic adventure.
Something is wrong. Really wrong. “It’s just . . . Grandfather always comes with us. Why did he stay behind with Father?”
Veronica looks up from the table between us, its surface filled with teapots and half-eaten cakes, as I pace beneath the plum trees. She blinks her soft eyes at me, her voice gentle but firm. “Maybe he’s sick. Your father will take care of him.”
Sick? The word slams into me, twisting my stomach. I grip the nearest plum tree for balance. Of course, that must be it. But the thought sets my chest buzzing with fear. “I have to get Grandfather’s scriptions!”
Veronica’s face tightens with sympathy, but she doesn’t budge. “Cael, there might be a scription at your grandfather’s cabin that could help him, but it’s a three-day journey from there back home. Your mother won’t let you go.”
I stare at the drying mud spattered across my drakopagon gear, picking at it absently. She’s right. Mother wouldn’t. And I can’t take the carriage alone. But if Grandfather is sick, Father won’t heal him with magic. And what if Grandfather’s too weak to help himself?
“What about one of your aklos?” I blurt. “Isn’t one leaving tomorrow to visit family? I can go with him!”
“Cael—”
“Please, Veronica! Sometimes rules have to be broken.”
She hesitates, biting her lip. “They’ll stop you at the gates.”
“Not if I’m officially your aklo. Just for a while! Please, please, please.”
Veronica sighs, considering. “Maybe . . . if we said I’ve sent you to collect thornwort. It only grows near the capital.”
My heart leaps. “You’re the best. Thank you!”
She shakes her head, but a small smile tugs at her lips. “Then you’d better get those scriptions . . . Aklo.”
Grinning, I take a running leap at the back wall.
“The gate, Aklo!” she calls.
I ignore her, scaling the stone blocks. My feet slip on moss, and I grab hold of the ledge just as her giggling reaches me. “Careful!”
“I’m fine!” I shout back, hauling myself to the top.
I freeze.
On the other side of the wall, a boy is leaning casually against the stone. His dark eyes lock onto mine. He doesn’t look surprised—just irritated.
His robes are elegant, untouched by mud or wear. He must be propped on something below, perfectly balanced while I’m perched awkwardly.
I shift, planting my knee securely before glancing behind me at Veronica, a smudge of green across her cheek and smelling faintly of horse. I whip my gaze back to the boy. “Are you peeking at Veronica?”