All the King's Men Read Online Free Page B

for long.
    Releasing a deep breath on a frustrated sigh, Kirel reached
for a delicate, green-glazed goblet. It had been filled with the finest pale
pink wine imported from Siccia, a planet located two hundred light years away
from Aris.
    Only the best for the king’s men , Kirel thought
bitterly. He drained his cup then refilled it from a pitcher sitting nearby.
    Instead of easing the dull ache that had settled behind his
brow, the drink only served to intensify it. Frustration mounting, Kirel
crossed the distance to the balcony overlooking the castle’s yard. He pulled
open the doors and stepped into the enclosed terrace.
    A bitter wind knocked on the glass windows, rattling the
panes. Above his head, tattered clouds swam across the three moons, dimming
their brilliant glow. When he was young, his mother would tell him stories of
the Fates who watched over them. Faey, the oldest, ruled the green moon. Maewyn
held sway over the red while the youngest—Ileth—made her home in the blue moon.
There were others too, Gods who ruled alongside the Fates and kept a vigilant
eye on Aris.
    Such nonsense.
    Oh he believed in magic like everyone else. He’d seen proof
of the supernatural with his own eyes over the years, but he doubted its power
to keep the planet safe from those who would see it destroyed. What good were
magical beings living in distant moons against civilizations that carved out
their territory using weapons that could obliterate Aris with the push of a
button?
    Leaning against a narrow balustrade, Kirel peered out into
the gardens surrounding the perimeter of the castle. A dust storm had formed
sometime during the day and now it kicked up billowing red sand particles,
obscuring his view of everything but the colorful twinkle of lights winking
from atop tall ornate walls surrounding the courtyard.
    Though muted by the storm and the thick windowpanes, the
agitated beat of hooves caught his attention. He glanced down and watched a
stable hand walk alongside two sleek black horses. Behind them, they drew a
royal carriage to the base of the circular steps leading into the castle.
    From his vantage point, Kirel could only catch brief
glimpses of the masked horses as they shook their harnesses and stamped their
hooves in the thick dust.
    A swift knock on the door made Kirel spin around abruptly.
His fingers tightened around the goblet he still held in his hand. A summons at
this hour of the night was never good news.
    “Come.”
    The door opened and a broad-shouldered man entered the room.
The traditional skella of a Guardian clung to his firm physique. Taller
than Kirel and wider across the shoulders, he cut an imposing figure at the
king’s side.
    “Thor.” On any other day, the sight of his friend would have
made Kirel smile. Tonight, it only caused his brows to draw downward in a
frown. “Why are you still in uniform? What’s happened?”
    The Guardian shifted his weight from the balls of his feet
to his heels then back again. Although the traditional mask hid Thor’s face,
his anxiety was clear and it mirrored Kirel’s.
    “The royal seer conducted another reading tonight.”
    Kirel huffed out a relieved breath. He’d almost forgotten
about the rituals the seer conducted every time the three moons hung like fat
globes in the night sky. For a decade, her quest to reach the Fates who guided
the hand of the Tradition had been fruitless. Aris had remained without a
queen, the king without an heir.
    “They’ve called for us then?” Kirel asked, already reaching
for his discarded skella .
    “Yes. They want us in the king’s chambers immediately.
Domenic’s on his way.” A shadow of a smile formed beneath Thor’s face mask. “I
believe he was occupied when I knocked on his door. I’m surprised he even heard
me over the moans and groans coming out of his room.”
    Kirel chuckled and tugged the loose tunic over his head
before throwing it on the bed. His linen pants followed.
    Something shifted in Thor’s