Chapter Kings Cross Novels & Stories

KELLEN The sky was a murky grey, the usual clear blue sky of this continent hidden behind an underlying forecast of war. I have been here before. Just not in this lifetime. Many moons ago as Conri I remember standing in the valley of the vast desert between the cities and the rocky formation that lay ahead of us. I was always even keel Kel, when I came back from the other realm, I was anything but. Slowly I had recognized and started to become the king I was before falling through the chasm.

Comfortable chairs sat beside a roaring fireplace. The room felt untouched by time. I moved toward my favorite reading corner. Then stopped. A familiar figure sat beside the window. Silas. Of course. The future king was already awake. A stack of documents rested beside him. Several maps covered the table. Political reports. Military briefings. Kingdom business. Yet somehow he still looked calm. Like the weight of an entire nation wasn't sitting on his shoulders. His silver eyes lifted from the papers. The moment he saw me, his expression softened.

I realize it is a harp of solid gold. Everything comes together in an instant. The gold, the harp, the bed, and the extravagance are clues to where I am. This is the King's private chambers. "Bathsheba," A warm voice grumbles lowly. I turn around. As I take in the chiseled features of my King I notice his red, wavy hair has grown longer since the last time I saw him. His pink lips spread in a kind smile, but my stomach churns inside of me. I sink to my knees and lower my cloth covered head. My eyes drift to the floor but are jerked upward when he brushes a finger against the bottom of my chin.

They were all Martians in disguise of course, but it was easy to forget. King was a big blustering man with a laugh to make the windows rattle. He wore Western dress, but with an impressive white beard combed upwards and disappearing into a bulging cream turban. He extended a huge hand to Balgeet when he first met us outside the agreed address, down a back street behind Southall Railway Station. “How is my cleverest niece today?” he boomed, shaking her hand vigorously. “And you too,” he added, grasping mine and squeezing it with painful force. “Danny, isn’t it? Welcome to Southall!” He unlocked the front door and ushered us in through a hallway strewn with flyers and circulars for kebab hous