Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Cael knows the healing magic is for the privileged, and par-linea like him exist only to serve. But when his forbidden spellbooks vanish and his father arranges his marriage to settle a debt, he flees into the royal woods, where he stumbles upon dying soldiers and a poisoned noble.
Using illegal medius magic, he saves the noble’s life, only to entangle himself in a dangerous game of politics. Now hunted for magic he shouldn’t possess, his only escape is to secretly compete in the mage examinations and prove himself a true vitalian.
But the capital is a den of vipers, and two men stand in his way: Silvius, the secretive fugitive who saved his life and kissed him like a promise, and Quintus, the sharp-tongued merchant who challenges him at every turn.
Both dangerous.
Both holding secrets.
Both about to change his life forever.
THE KING’S MAN is an epic romantasy filled with slow-burn passion, courageous choices, and the relentless spirit of a healer determined to beat all odds. This six-book series is one continuous journey and romance arc and is best read in order for maximum enjoyment. For readers who love:
slow-burn, rivals-to-lovers
romance filled with tension
A rebellious healer who refuses to bow to the system
A mysterious noble with a sharp tongue and sharper secrets
Forbidden magic, political intrigue, and high-stakes deception
Perfect for fans of "The Captive Prince," "The Magician’s Guild," and "The Priory of the Orange Tree."
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
I discovered his name beneath the violet oak, a long way from home, when I was only nine. Even then, he was sharp-tongued and far too composed. And even then, I couldn’t stop staring at him.
Prince Nicostratus Aetherion.
The boy who saved me from drowning. The boy I saved from poison. The boy who would grow up to change my life forever.
Quick!
Redcloaks—three of them—ghosting through the trees with swords drawn and those unmistakable crimson cloaks.
I rip a precious thornwort root free and shove it into my belt. Akilah needs this. And I need to live long enough to get it to her.
I launch down a bushy embankment, boots skidding, cloak snagging on underbrush. Twigs whip my face. I don’t stop. The clearing’s ahead—
I lurch to a halt, boots suctioned into the mud.
I’m not the only one trespassing in the royal woods.
A young man stands at the cliff’s edge. Tall. Still. Cloak and hair caught in the wind. He’s carved from silence, as if from magic, from something old and untouchable. Beautiful. But wrong. There’s a shimmer to his face; subtle, but unmistakable.
Not his real face.
Not that it’ll matter. Masked or not, the redcloaks won’t ask questions.
He doesn’t look like he’s seen them. Doesn’t look like he sees anything.
I veer toward him, heart thundering, and wave with wild urgency.
He turns. Not startled.
Just a blink. A faint frown. On a fancy fake face.
I reach him in a few strides and grab his arm.
He glances at my fingers, curled around his sleeve. Too late.
I curse under my breath, squeeze the man’s arm, and flash him a reckless grin as the redcloaks break through the trees. They move fast. We’re in for it now, unless . . .
I drop to all fours.
“Don’t panic,” I whisper, already crawling through dirt and leaves. “Just play along.” No one can possibly take us seriously like this.
I whinny. Loudly. “Your faithful steed is here.” I toss my hair with a wild neigh, rearing up dramatically. “Climb aboard! We ride into the sunset!”
“You’re unbelievable,” the young man mutters. Creamy and composed, his voice slides straight down my spine.
But no time to dwell.
He slings himself onto my back, and I nearly collapse beneath the weight of him.
Somehow, I hold it together, biting my tongue when he offers a most dignified: “Giddyup.”
And giddyup I do, hissing for his ears only, “Ride me proper. My mane. Steer with it.”
A long-released breath. Then he grabs a handful of my hair and yanks it.
Behind us, the redcloaks falter, confused. Muttering.
Lunatics. No threat. Let them go.
I crawl with my masked rider into the shadows of the woods, heart still hammering, until we reach the nook by the river, half-wrapped in bramble and shadowlight, where Akilah waits.
She startles, blinks, rubs her eyes, then sighs. Her look says it all: This is so Cael Amuletos.
I grin, breathless. “We’re safe.” I shift beneath him. “Dismount.”
The moment his weight vanishes, I sit back. Too fast—he stumbles, catches a tree trunk but still falls, hitting his knee with a solid thunk.
I lunge forward, offering a hand.
Then I freeze.
His pain. I feel it in the air—sharp, sour, sparking against my nose. Too strong to ignore.
I reach for my healing pouch. “Let me read your pulse—”
“No.” Firm. Cold.
He braces against the tree to pull himself upright, back turned.
I hesitate. That ‘no’ was more than cold. It stung.
I glance over. “Why?”