All the King's Men: The Beginning Read Online Free PDF Page A

Micah new life, new happiness. But all that would crumble to shit if Jackson took off on him. And then who knew how far Micah would fall? Pretty damn far if history was any indication.
    Tristan hung his head. He didn't want to lose his friend again, because this time, the loss might well be permanent. Tristan might end up being the one to implant the bullet in Micah's temple, but that was the reality of his job. Sometimes hard decisions had to be made to save the greater population from harm. And if Micah lost Jackson, he would become the greatest kind of harm their kind had ever seen.
     

 
    Chapter 2
    King Bain fingered the medallion that hung around his neck as he scanned the archives that had been passed down from his father. The medallion, which was his family's royal crest, had been in his bloodline since his ancestor, Cato, claimed the throne after ousting the barbaric Dacian clan from rule. Made from bronze, the medallion was embellished with ancient glyphs and displayed two swords crossed over a full moon. He wore the round amulet whenever he met with dignitaries, oversaw proceedings in his court, or otherwise conducted royal business.
    Today he was meeting with Premier Royce, the leader of the drecks and a descendant of Argon, who the lore spoke of as being a onetime ally with King Cato. Bain struggled to believe that his forefather had ever been friends with the drecks, but who was he to dispute the archives, which held more than a few surprises within their pages. He brushed his fingertips over his family tree, which was included in the royal book of records he kept secured on a marble pedestal in his study. He eyed the names of his ancestors and extended family, feeling an ache over the secrets they held, but which he was not at liberty to reveal until the time was right, if it ever would be.
    With a sigh, he gently closed the tome, placed the Plexiglas cover back on the pedestal, locked the case, and turned his thoughts back to Royce.
    According to history, their two families had once been allies. Even close friends. That had been a long time ago, though. Bain was six generations removed from King Cato, while Premier Royce was the ninth generation of Argon's line. Cato and Argon had been in power when the first war broke out between their races, and Bain had learned the whole sordid history—at least as much as had been preserved in the archives—soon after coming into power after his father's death in the Middle Ages. And what a tragic, ugly history it was, if the recorded lore was true.
    Bain closed his eyes. That wasn't the only hard truth he had to bear from the royal archives, but he feared the time would never come for him to reveal the rest, especially where his mentor, Micah Black, was concerned. Micah had trained him when he was a child, and he was the mightiest warrior Bain had ever known. But Micah had been lost to mated suffering for a millennium. Until he came back to his senses, his rightful place—which Bain's father, Bain the First, had always hoped to see realized—would have to remain a secret.
    "Premier Royce has arrived and is waiting for you."
    Bain turned to find his secretary waiting just inside the door of his office. "Thank you." He adjusted his tailored suit—because, for one, the king didn't buy off-the-rack, and for another, it was hard to find clothes to fit a seven-foot-tall behemoth built like a linebacker—and followed his secretary down the hall to his conference center.
    "Premier Royce, always a pleasure," he said, hand outstretched. If what the archives said was true, Bain imagined that their ancestors never had to fake such pleasant salutations.
    "Likewise, King Bain. You look well." Royce shook his hand as he shifted to blue. "You don't mind…?"
    Bain waved him off. "Of course not. Make yourself comfortable."
    In their natural state, drecks appeared blue. Blue skin, blue eyes, blue nails. Even their hair was bluish-black. In their dreck state, they wore their hair