The King Of Salt Novels & Stories

I focus, straining my hearing, letting this room drift away to try to hear what they’re talking about. “…salt,” the king of Hyath says. “And a tithe of grain each year of their marriage. I’ll double it if she produces a son.” I just bet he would double it after everything he’s done trying to secure a son. I wait, listening for Varek’s response. Is salt and some grain enough for him to sell me? It would tell me how desperate Caldara is if so. “That’s a good start,” Varek says, his voice almost too soft to hear. He says something after that, but I can’t make it out.

And then he speaks. “I couldn't be mistaken…” he says slowly. “She looks exactly like a girl I know so well...Salt.” My blood runs cold.

Sarah said, and displayed her sets of teeth. “Saviors, you haven’t told us your encounters on the way to the half moon,” king Rehoboth said with curiosity. “We are sorry, my king; we were carried away in your story,” Alfred said. “Alright; what are some of the things you encountered?” king Rehoboth said as he gazed at Alfred’s face.

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 swear he's gone swimming in urine. A shadow passes over me where I'm squatting beside Cosway. I look up and it's King. "He says there's a Riverwalk and clean water." King's ginormous teeth crisscross when he grinds his jaw together. I cross my arms and wait. King looks down at the ground, and I almost smile because I do the same thing when I'm counting. I think it helps. When his eyes meet mine, I know he needed to count longer. "This is not a resort."

And I find myself trapped in a breathtaking, yet perilous, reality. I turn back to my mate. Noah Silverton. The King. If only I had been wise enough to ask him for his full name before. I would've known who he was in an instant. And I would have. . . ran. He will kill me. Mates can not hurt each other but, surely, he will have to kill me. Mate or not, he is what he is. A King. A ruthless one at that. It makes me terrified of the man I am supposed to love and cherish.

“I’m sorry, madam. I’m just a driver. But maybe you should visit and see some places that play huge significant value to the history of Capria.” “See? You’re not just a driver. Tell me about the King?” “Ahh. America has no monarch, yeah? The first king was King Kamrun—” “Who?” “King Kamrun of Braynburg?” “Oh, and the current King?” “He’s critically ill.” His people must love the King if he didn't rule like in that 15th-century monarchies. “I’m sorry to hear about that.” My chest felt hollow. “The Prince apparent is Prince Isodore, Duke of Burkhese. You should visit Burkhese. It’s a great place, surrounded by the ocean. If you want to visit a little bit colder than Winterbourn, try Guardion.

It shone on a king holding a queen who was slowly turning into a statue of salt. ​The story was not ending. It was falling into a new, more terrible kind of silence.

“We’re leaving.” We had nothing to do except watch them go out of the kitchen. I cleaned the table using the rug while King Ice was observing me. His back was resting on the sink while his legs were crossed on the floor. “Has King Fire knew something about Salisha?” I did not let him see the look in my face. He would definitely read what was in my mind. After a couple of seconds, King Fire talked again. “She wants me to wed her.” My hand stopped wiping the table. I turned my eyes to him. “Know her first.”

Spears dipped low. "How dare King Dave step into my territory?" the king roared, his voice vibrating through the water. "Has he forgotten who owns this sea? Abel, Dove, Ruff— and you standing there behind Dove looking like an idiot, what's your name?" Everyone turned their heads slightly to see who the king was talking to. Silence fell, heavy and sharp. A man in his forties, malnourished with green eyes and red curls, scrambled forward and dropped to his knees three feet from the king. His voice was rough but familiar.