All The King's Men Novels & Stories

“Isn’t any risk of us getting hurt too big of a risk?” “It sounds to me like Shane knows some pretty dangerous people himself… these people can protect you, can’t they? Matt Kingston’s known around town, you know.” “You mean King’s Men?” “Yep.” Mirrie stared down at the table, thinking hard. Yeah, Matt Kingston’s team – known as ‘King’s Men’ – was an elite group of highly-trained men and women. They specialized in things that Mirrie didn’t even want to start to think about: they got kidnapping victims back, and they tracked down wanted killers, and they busted up drug cartels. King was Naomi’s boyfriend and if truth be told, Mirrie had no idea how Naomi managed to stay sober sometimes when K

I follow suit, glancing down the line at Meg and Chessie before facing forward, ignoring the men on either side of me. A few males step up to the table, greeting their king with short bobs of their heads or little smiles–strange, I think. They must be friends, I believe, because of how casual this all seems. They’re all young. Some show signs of the beginnings of middle age, but that’s it. The king says something to the crowd at large that’s immediately repeated in the Dead Tongue by a man standing off the end of the table. He’s a guard, I presume, based on his clothes.

As we paced around, we received word through our mind link that there were three men approaching the diner. Everyone tensed, as Carson advised the King and his people what was happening. As the door swung open the King cursed. The Queen had gasped, and we all looked at them confused by their response. “It has been you, all along?!?” the King yelled. Tears filled the Queen’s eyes.

When she finally slips back into the room she'll be sharing with Zuri, I make my way downstairs, dragging every step like my legs don't want to carry me. Barely holding myself together. When I reach the entrance of the building, my men are just emerging from the basement—hoodies and jeans in place of cuts and leather, like they're just a group of guys heading out for a late-night drive. But they're not. Not even close. Even in plain clothes, King still looks like a walking threat. Calm. Coiled. Deadly. But damn, does he look so good with that man-bun. All three men are lugging black duffle bags, and I don't have to ask what's inside.

"Shiv'ra will do penance for their role in this unrest but as their new king has given us free reign to punish the offenders, their sanction shall only be for a year." Murmurs of assent rang out from the crowd. "Hear the words of the king!" The herald announced. "All hail king Nicolas! All hail king Nicolas!" His people's cheers followed him out of the courtyard and into the castle. The doors shut behind him giving him much needed time to breathe. "Ruling becomes you, my King." Odeya's husky voice came from behind him before warm hands landed on his shoulder easing him into the chair. "How are your legs?"

I queried confidently, directing everyone's attention towards the king, awaiting his response. The room remained frozen in suspense, each person holding their breath, desperate for the king's decision. The king's voice quivered as he struggled to find his words. "It... It is not. You won't be an acting queen, is that taken?" Elder Thomas couldn't hide his joyous relief as he seized the opportunity. "Good! You heard that, Melina. You are not an acting queen, so get out of here," he declared, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. The other elders joined in the expression of elation, as the king solidified their position.

“Do I have to throw your ass out or what, man?” Chris turned to look at Matt ‘King’ Kingston, his soon-to-be-former boss. King was standing in the doorway, his massive arms crossed over his massive chest, his dark gray eyes as hard as ever, but a tiny smile on his rough face. Yeah, he’d miss King too. The man was shady and secretive and tough-as-hell, but he was a good man in his heart. He’d been good to Chris, he’d been a good boss… and he’d become a good friend.

“If you’re just tuning in, footage was released of the king collapsing at the All Lives toy drive to support the local orphanages.” They play the video again. King David stands behind the podium with Edwin to his right and Ansel is not far behind. He doesn’t look as I remember him. He’s smaller and frail, with skin that was blotchy and almost gray. The king opens his mouth, but words don’t come out. Instead, he wobbles and grips onto the podium. The crowd gasps, and I watch as he shrugs off Edwin and reaches out for Ansel, who catches him before he collapses.

Focusing back on Alison, he continued, "Now my dear, why don't you tell us about your research. We are all very interested in what you have to say." Alison did not immediately notice that the king had directly addressed her, for Beatrice had been standing next to the stocky man she had just seen exit that room. The man was standing with his arms clasped behind his back. He suit coat lay unbuttoned and she could make out the hilt of a pistol holstered to his side. aWhat do these people want with me? Why do they need armed security here?!? The silence in the room had snapped her attention from the security officer, and she realized that the king had asked something of her. The king was a tall,

“Yep. OK. You’re right. I won’t go into details, but if I’m doing something that may get me hurt, I’ll tell you that. Then you’ll get yourself to Mirrie or a meeting. Deal?” “Yes.” “Any other questions about King’s Men?” “Just one.” “Shoot.” At the look on her face, he laughed. “Sorry. Poor choice of words.” “Yeah, you’d better be sorry.” She glared at him. “Anyway. My question was, why are they called King’s Men when you have women in the group?”