All the King's Men Read Online Free PDF Page B

for the mating ceremony, she’d be eager, willing
and capable of displaying a wide range of lovemaking talents.
    If the Tradition wasn’t obeyed to the letter, or if she
failed to pass the three trials, the consequences would be dire. The Fates
themselves would choose the punishment for the disgraced woman, and they
weren’t known for their ability to tolerate failure.
    More importantly, if the queen the Tradition had chosen
failed to pass the trials, the king would also be punished. He would be
obligated to pass his crown down to the royal next in line to rule. Except in
Shivar’s case, no other such royal existed. With no heirs of his own, Shivar
would leave Aris leaderless and at the mercy of its ruthless neighbors.
    Abruptly, the door swung open from the inside to reveal a
tall, slender woman. A mass of blonde hair so pale it was almost white framed a
heart-shaped face. Equally pale eyebrows drew together over the elegant ridge
of her slightly upturned nose. “Are you going to stand there all night or are
you coming in? The king needs you.”
    Thor strolled through first. Steeling his nerves and willing
himself to keep the mental images at bay, Kirel followed.
    The door closed behind them on a silent gust of wind, as
though the woman had commanded it to shut with nothing but the power of her
thoughts.
    Knowing Vida, she’d probably done just that.
    The king’s chambers had always unnerved Kirel. They were
much too spacious, with too many shadowy corners in which an intruder could
easily hide. He’d pleaded with Shivar endlessly, hoping to convince the king to
move to a smaller chamber, but to no avail. Shivar liked the generous extent of
the room. He argued that it gave him space to think.
    Shivar had elected to only use half the space for his
personal needs. His bedchamber was located at the back, divided from the
meeting area by a dozen embroidered screens the king had acquired on various
travels off-world. Gold-rimmed windows bordered the front of the room, allowing
the tri-colored moonlight to stream through the panes.
    A cheerful fire burned in the marble hearth. It spread a
pleasant warmth through the cavernous room, but even its bright flames lacked
the strength to illuminate the high ceilings.
    It did however cast its orange glow on the king’s grave
features.
    Although he’d ruled Aris for almost three decades, time had
only served to enhance Shivar Waldemar’s boyish good looks. Only the few faint
wrinkles that bracketed his pale blue eyes and the strands of gray sprinkled in
his close-cropped black hair hinted at his age. His pale blue eyes were shrewd,
experience having tempered the exuberance that had been a staple of his
youthful reign. He’d claimed the throne at the age of fourteen. Although Kirel
was too young to remember Shivar being crowned, having served at his side for
the last eight years had given him plenty of insight into the king’s
temperament.
    “What took you so long?” Domenic, the last of the king’s
Guardians and the youngest, rose from a plush settee.
    Kirel threw Thor a harsh glance from beneath lowered
eyelids. “It’s my fault. I was sleeping and Thor had to wait on me.”
    “Yeah?” Domenic said. “Well, I was fucking and I still made
it here before you.”
    “Boys. That’s enough.” Vida leaned on her runed, slender
staff. Made entirely out of an ebony material Kirel couldn’t name, it glowed
with an internal light that seemed to shimmer from within. A claw-tipped hand
reached out from the top of the staff, a pearl-colored orb resting in its outstretched
palm. “There’s something we need to discuss.”
    Kirel rubbed the bridge of his nose. Although not as strong
as they’d been only minutes earlier, images of Nelina still danced through his
mind. He needed another glass of that wine and some time alone to alleviate the
raging hard-on that hadn’t subsided even a fraction since this unexplainable
lust had claimed him. And he still hadn’t been able to look