The King’s Man Series by Anyta Sunday – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

The King’s Man Series by Anyta Sunday – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:14:27 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.wownovels.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png The King’s Man Series by Anyta Sunday – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.wownovels.com 32 32 The King’s Man (The King’s Man #5) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-5-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:14:27 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-5-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64872 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 324(@200wpm)___ 259(@250wpm)___ 216(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

A healer who masks his identity. A king held captive. A game of power, deception, and undeniable longing.

Cael has always walked the thin line between healer and outlaw, but when he learns Quin, the true king of Lumin, has been captured, he risks everything to reach him. Disguised as “Haldr,” Cael infiltrates Iskeldir’s court, tending to Quin’s wounds while keeping his own identity buried. Each stolen moment between them is a battle of sharp words, lingering touches, and the ever-present danger of discovery.

But Quin’s freedom comes at a cost. To secure his release, Cael must do the win the Medicus Contest, a ruthless competition designed to prove Lumin’s superiority in healing magic. With only alchemy and wit, Cael must outmatch spell-wielding rivals, outmanoeuvre those who would see him fail, and outlast the unseen forces working against him. When the final trial demands he enter the callous regent’s memoryscape, Cael faces an impossible risk his soul to save those trapped inside or lose everything. Including Quin.

In a world where healing is power and love is a battlefield, how far will Cael go to protect the man he can never have?

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

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Iuncork a small vial, tip the contents down my throat, and stagger into the courtyard of our borrowed refuge. Three steps, and the timber walls, beams, and upper balcony tilt drunkenly. The cobbled courtyard shifts, rising in waves beneath my feet. Lykos, the crusader who destroyed my magic, is a shadow at the well, hauling water as though the world owes him tribute. Megaera, my former intended and near murderess, sweeps past in a flash of crimson, her movements doubled in my blurred vision.

“And you worry I’ll poison you,” she murmurs, catching my arm and guiding me to a bench. “You do a fine job of that yourself.”

“Is he mad?” A younger voice cuts through my haze, and Zenon, youthful and wide eyed, emerges carrying a steaming bowl. “This is the third time this month.”

Megaera takes the bowl, her tone breezy as she spoons the bitter concoction into my mouth. “He calls it trial and error. I call it a slow march to an early grave.”

But only through trial and error can I heal; only through a lot of it can I forget.

The thought settles heavily in my gut, but I push it aside. My newest desire since arriving in Ragn has been to learn every alchemic healing method possible, practice each to perfection alongside my aunt and stranded companions, and, above all, avoid any thought of Lumin royalty. . . . Specifically, where they might be three months after we parted. Or how they might be faring. Or whether one in particular has had any stray thoughts about me.

“It’s all he does,” Zenon grumbles. “He barely even sleeps.”

I swallow, my throat clenching around the foul taste, and my limbs begin to seize. Megaera assures Zenon I’ll be fine shortly and nudges him back to his reading lessons at the courtyard table. I silently count two minutes in my head—the time it takes for the antidote to neutralise the poison crawling through my veins.

My vision sharpens first. The courtyard snaps into focus, the distorted waves settling into stone. Lykos abandons the well, his broad shoulders tensing as he grabs his spear and prowls toward Megaera. His lips curl as he presses the tip between her shoulder blades.

Megaera, ever unruffled, tosses a cloud of pale dust over her shoulder. Lykos staggers back, coughing violently, spear falling to his side.

She spins with a mocking laugh, crimson cloak flaring. “I’ve won every round, crusader. When will you learn?”

His dark eyes flash with frustration—and something else. Fascination. “What was that?”

“One of Cael’s poisons.” Her voice lilts. “Be a good boy, and I’ll give you the antidote.”

“You—” Lykos topples, unconscious, before he can finish.

Zenon peers over the edge of the table, shaking his head. “I can’t believe women used to swoon over him.”

Megaera smiles faintly as she kneels, tipping the antidote into Lykos’s mouth. “He has a certain brutish charm. Pity about what’s in his head.”

“Should we drag him inside?”

“Leave him. The spring air will do him good.”

They mean well, all of them. Stuck here in Iskaldir with me, longing for somewhere else—someone else. Especially Lykos and Zenon. It’s like they have a place they’re supposed to be, a person waiting for them.

As soon as I can, I’ll find a way to get us back to Lumin.

I shake my stiff arm and leg, willing sensation to return. The town bell tolls—Arcane Sovereign! It’s quarter to five already. I’m due at the temple in fifteen minutes. Last time I was late, Prins Lief made me write lines by candlelight under the watchful eyes of the temple statues. I’m now certain I believe in ghosts.

My arm tingles as feeling returns, and I leap to my feet. Megaera calls lazily after me, “Your curacowl’s by the stove. You nearly cooked it.”

I snatch the white healer’s hat from its perch, inhaling a faint whiff of smoke as I cram it onto my head. Delightful. Pulling the veil down over my face, I grab my bag of remedies and bolt.

The courtyard door bangs shut behind me, and I step into the heart of Ragn, a coastal town cleaved in two by a glacier winding down from the pine-covered mountains.

I hurry along cobbled streets lined with timber houses and glance up at the peaks. Perched on one is a stone castle, its battlements silhouetted against the fading light; on the other, catching the golds of the sinking sun, stands the temple of the gods—the place I need to be.

Swinging right, I enter the town square, where a wall of celebratory music and masked dancers hits me like a wave. They whirl around enormous stone runes set into the ground—a wedding celebration.

I zigzag through the throngs of revellers. “Excuse me—sorry.”

From a balcony overhead, someone shouts, “Release the runes!”

Four massive gulls are set loose from the rooftops, their wings beating as they scatter pebbles into the crowd below. A roar of delight erupts as hands shoot skyward, scrambling for the falling stones.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >68

Advertisement
The King’s Man (The King’s Man #6) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-6-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 09 Jul 2025 19:14:24 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-6-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >88

The mask is finally coming off. But some truths are more dangerous than lies.

Cael never expected to fall into Quin’s memories. Never expected to uncover the moments Quin kept his quiet observations, his reluctant admiration, the silent war he waged against his own heart. And at the centre of it all? A truth that shatters everything Cael thought he knew.

But the past is a trap. And while Cael is lost in Quin’s memories, the war still looms.

Reality drags him back. To Ragnarson. To a battlefield where Quin stands before him, not as a ghost of the past, but flesh and blood. Real and untouchable. Their reunion burns brief and bright before duty rips them apart once more.

As the kingdom teeters on collapse, rebellion ignites. The war isn’t just for a throne anymore—it’s for survival. And when Cael is captured, Quin will stop at nothing to bring him back.

Because kings do not beg.
This healer does not bow.
And masks cannot hide the truth 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

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Ifall. Fall into a thousand violet leaves; into memories.

I take my time breathing in the carefully recalled details—the roughness of the bark; the woodsy scent of it; the freshness coming from the nearby river. We saved one another here, many years ago. It’s where I found my lost soldad; where I unravelled the truth.

This is a place where masks have been stripped.

Once again, I’m dressed like Quin has clothed me himself. The layers drape around me like a warm buffer against the crisp moonlit night.

I jump the last feet to the damp earth and turn from the violet oak. Rune-carved arches, dozens of them, spiral around it. I catch my breath and push against the first door.

The gateway shimmers as I step through into one of Quin’s truths. On a pent breath, I enter the familiar, sunny woods of the royal belt. It’s warm, birds are tweeting and summer blooms pink around tree trunks. I come to the edge of a small clearing cresting a hill: the woods spread below, and beyond, the grand luminarium glows, straddling the walled royal city and casting its light over the capital.

Some of the most heart-pounding encounters of my life have happened in these spaces.

Movement catches my eye across the clearing. A horse and its rider canter along the craggy edges of the viewpoint. My breath snags on the sight of Quin, carefully dismounting, landing on his good leg. He’s reaching for the cane strapped onto his horse when a loud crash startles the animal.

Quin tries to catch the reins, but the panicked horse shies off into the woods. Quin hobbles to the cliff edge and leans against a tree with a heavy breath that I can almost feel from here. Another crash. My chest hiccups, half on a laugh, half on a cry as I see my seventeen-year-old self scrambling down a bushy embankment into the clearing.

I rush up the hill to Quin, who has stilled upon recognising the agent of the chaos.

I remember this.

But I never saw Quin here. This was the day I met—

I get right in front of him but he stares through me, towards Chaos Me who plucks twigs from his cloak, grinning wildly as he veers toward this beautiful young man. But Chaos Me didn’t see Quin’s face then like I do here. Chaos Me saw a face veiled with magic.

I sag to my knees, overwhelmed. It was you. It is always you.

My heart throbs wildly as I watch the rest of the memory. Quin and Chaos Me. Quin and Chaos.

Chaos doesn’t even slow down as he nears Quin—in fact, he speeds up, waving a hand: come; come quick. When Quin doesn’t move, Chaos starts jogging. “Redcloaks. Hide, quick.”

Quin, still shocked at seeing Chaos, merely blinks.

Chaos, the fool, only sees a man—frowning slightly, like he’s unaware of the danger of being caught here. Chaos, the fool, grabs Quin’s arm and tugs.

Quin’s stare drops to Chaos’s fingers wrapped around him, and Chaos suddenly squeezes. Redcloaks have entered the clearing. Redcloaks have spotted them.

Chaos swears under his breath and tosses a wink at Quin. “Don’t panic. Just play along.”

I shake my head. I know what he’s thinking. He’s thinking they just have to act a little loopy. So the soldiers won’t see them as a threat; so they’ll shoo them along with a mere warning not to come this way again.

I cover my eyes as Chaos drops to all fours and starts crawling around. I wish I’d thought to cover my ears as he starts to whinny.

I peek between my fingers. The redcloaks stop abruptly in the middle of the clearing, watching on in bafflement. And Quin stares.

Chaos pats his hip. “Your faithful steed is here. Climb aboard!” He tosses his hair with a wild neigh, rearing up dramatically. “We’ll ride into the sunset!”

“You’re unbelievable,” Quin mutters, and slings himself onto Chaos’s back. As elegantly as one can on a pretend horse, he keeps his chin high and gives Chaos’s rump a dignified slap.

I shut my fingers over my eyes on a groan before peeking once more. Chaos is crawling along the grass with Quin positioned awkwardly on his back, pretending it’s most natural indeed. I slink after them, flushing. The redcloaks glance at one another, open their mouths and shut them again with deepening frowns. One of them points and whispers in his neighbour’s ear, “That signet on his belt, isn’t that—”

The redcloaks bow as one, and Quin quickly shoos them off; Chaos keeps crawling along, totally unaware.

Chaos hisses quietly, for Quin’s ears only, “Ride me proper. My mane, steer with it.”

Quin shuts his eyes, shaking his head. His expression is somewhere between horrified and even more horrified, but at Chaos’s buck, he grabs a handful of hair and whips it like reins.

Like this, Quin is held hostage until Chaos has crawled into the shadows of the woods, to a nook by the river where Akilah waits.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >88

Advertisement
The King’s Man (The King’s Man #3) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-3-read-online-anyta-sunday Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:27:34 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-3-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55602 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 278(@200wpm)___ 222(@250wpm)___ 185(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >58

A healer in exile. A fugitive king. A kingdom that would see them both dead.

Cael should be dead. The kingdom believes it. The duke who framed him ensured it. But instead of execution, he was buried alive, and only one man dared to pull him from the grave. Now, Cael is on the run with the very king he was forced to betray.

Hunted by redcloaks and trapped in a town ravaged by disease, Cael and Quin must risk everything to survive. With supplies dwindling and the air thick with fevered cries, every life Cael saves pushes him closer to breaking. Wyverns carry the sickness, but the town’s fear and desperation are far deadlier. As tensions flare, sharp words clash, glances hold too long, and an unspoken pull tightens between them. Cael clings to the one thing slipping fastest through his control.

But even the most powerful healer has limits. And when their enemies close in, forcing Cael to make an impossible sacrifice, the price he pays will change him forever.

Uncover the fate of the healer who should have died . . . and the king who won’t let him go.

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 A slow-burn romance simmering with tensionA healer hero who refuses to be powerlessA puppet king fighting to reclaim his throneHigh-stakes adventure, betrayal, and found familyPerfect for fans of "The Captive Prince," "The Magician’s Guild," and "The Priory of the Orange Tree."

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Fog coils, smothering Akilah and me in damp, oppressive grey. The chill seeps through our clothes, gnawing at our bones. Akilah’s trembling hand clutches at my soldad, pulling me back into harsh reality.

I’ve become a pawn in the high duke’s game.

“Your dream,” she murmurs, her voice breaking. Her head droops onto my shoulder and I pull her close, fighting the raw lump in my throat.

“You’re my dream too,” I whisper against her hair.

Her teeth chatter uncontrollably; I force us to our feet, scanning the desolate landscape for shelter. The crumbling silhouette of a castle rises above the island like a spectre. We trudge toward it, our steps heavy as the pebbly shore gives way to coffinweed. The stench of decay thickens, curling in my throat.

My foot catches on something hidden in the weeds, sending us sprawling into the dirt. Akilah lands hard, her breath hitching with pain. “You alright?” I scramble to help her up.

A voice grumbles from the shadows, rough and irritated. “I’d be better if you hadn’t trod on me.”

A man rises from the ground, brushing off his cloak. He’s thin and grimy, the lines on his weathered face sharp in the dim light. Eerily familiar, though roughened. A book dangles loosely from his hand.

Akilah gasps, her grip tightening on my arm—not in fear, but in recognition. “Florentius . . .” she whispers.

The man snorts. “Wrong brother,” he says. His gaze flickers between us, guarded. “Do I know you?”

I shake my head, my throat dry. “Your brother’s . . . my friend.”

“Little Florentius made a friend?” His laugh is disbelieving but softens as his eyes land on Akilah. “You’re hurt.”

“The duke—” I begin, but the words catch in my throat.

His expression darkens; he pulls a pipe from his cloak, lighting it with practised ease. Smoke curls around him like a protective barrier. “Come on, then,” he says. “I’ll take you somewhere she can rest.”

Lucius leads us through a decaying courtyard, his pipe glowing faintly in the mist. “Water’s over there,” he says with a casual wave. “Rations are tight. Boil it first, skim the scum, try not to think too much about what you’re drinking.”

Grubby men shuffle past, their hollow eyes avoiding mine. The air is thick with the brittle sound of laughter edged with despair.

Inside the castle, it’s colder. The gallery is dimly lit by narrow windows casting pale light over rows of bedmats. Half are occupied. Lucius retrieves two threadbare blankets from a creaking cupboard and tosses them in our direction. “Spare mats are over there. Make yourselves comfortable.”

I lower Akilah onto a mat at the far end, away from the others. Her pulse is weak but steady. She needs real rest—healing sleep—but I don’t see how that’s possible in a place like this.

“Do you have any herbs? Anything for the pain?” I ask.

Lucius exhales a long plume of smoke, his expression unreadable. “I’ve got something,” he says finally. “Come with me.”

Down and down we descend, the air growing thick and heavy. The cellar is low vaulted and smoky, filled with grimy tables where people huddle, coughing between throws of the dice.

Lucius acknowledges a rather discordantly elegant woman rising from a card table; she eyes me with bright curiosity and leads me to a curtained alcove. He gestures to a small table cluttered with books and opens a drawer. Capsules glint faintly in the lantern light. “These will help with the pain.”

I take one, rolling it between my fingers. “What’s in them?”

Lucius leans back in his chair, his eyes half lidded as he puffs on his pipe. “Belief. Sometimes, that has to be enough.”

The capsule crumbles under the pressure of my grip, revealing an empty core. My chest tightens.

“The real herbs are gone,” he says, his tone flat. “What else is there to do?”

A wave of hot abhorrence slams over me. I crush the empty capsules in my hand, the glittering shells crumbling into dust.

The betrayal burns as I storm out of Lucius’s alcove, the smoky, oppressive air of the cellar giving way to the harsh, damp cold of the courtyard, then to the stifling air of the sleeping area.

At least a dozen people are coughing violently. The pervasive stench of sickness clings to the air. My stomach churns as I spot Akilah on her mat, her face pinched with pain.

I stop abruptly, drawing unwanted attention. Heads swing my way, then quickly turn back to their meagre meals.

One man leans over to Akilah and presses a capsule into her trembling hand. “This might help,” he says kindly. Akilah thanks him profusely, her voice broken with pain.

The lie has my chest seizing. These people need real care, not false hope. I fumble for my soldad, desperate to gain their trust, but what can I say? A newcomer like me has no authority here.

The air shifts behind me. I turn, startled—

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >58

Advertisement
The King’s Man (The King’s Man #4) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-4-read-online-anyta-sunday Thu, 12 Jun 2025 17:27:31 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-4-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 63
Estimated words: 59565 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >63

He was a healer with precious magic. Now, he has nothing.
Cael has lost his power, his home, and the one person who made him feel whole.

In the city of Hinsard, where enemies lurk behind every mask, he desperately hunts for a cure for his severed meridians, for the rising sickness, and for the aching void inside him. But magic isn’t the only thing slipping through his fingers.
A conspiracy is brewing in Hinsard, one that frames his ally for treason and threatens to unravel the delicate balance of power. To uncover the truth, Cael must navigate deadly politics, stolen corpses, and an elusive poison that ties it all together. And always, Quin is there, watching, doubting, challenging him in ways no one else dares. Their past simmers between them, tangled with unspoken words and the weight of something undeniable.
But when a deadly scheme threatens hundreds, including Quin himself, Cael must make a choice. Does he cling to the healer he once was? Or embrace the survivor he has become?

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

The entrance to Nicostratus’s Hinsard home swings wide, onto a courtyard blanketed in autumn colours. Armed guards with keen eyes patrol the shadows as attendants quickly clear leaves from the path. I drop my wrapped belongings, catching my breath at the impressive inner-city estate.

“Clearly it’s been a while since their master visited.” Nicostratus laughs, waving over an incredibly tall, thin man in an aklo’s uniform. “This is my head aklo, Petros.”

Petros. Nicostratus even respects that his aklos have actual names. I grip a handful of my cloak, comforted by the thought. A good, kind man.

Petros bows his head to me with a welcoming smile.

“Anything you need,” Nicostratus says, “he’s your man. Oh, and this.” He touches a button pinned to Petros’s—and all of his staff’s—uniform. Two circling wyverns around a sun—an emblem of unity—two brothers working together to cast brightness on the kingdom. “Anyone wearing this symbol is loyal to me and my brother. They’ve vowed to protect us, and at my word, they’ll protect you, too.”

Nicostratus, although tall, has to look up at his head aklo. “Are his rooms ready?”

I pick up my belongings as Petros leads us deeper into the house. At the closed oak doors, Nicostratus asks him to bring food and looks at me softly. “You haven’t eaten since yesterday evening . . .”

My hands close tightly around my things, mostly my grandfather’s books.

He swallows audibly.

I lift my hands, the gloves now useless, mocking. I rip them off, juggling my belongings, and stuff them into the bundle with the books.

“Take all the time you need,” Nicostratus murmurs. He pushes the doors open, revealing a spacious room hung all around with tapestries. They stop me cold as I follow him inside: vitalians casting, their hands aglow, as sick masses rise to their feet. In the centre, a haloed man stands among rejoicing children, his image mirrored in another panel as he kneels to accept the apex-vitalian stamp. Kyrillos. The name carries both reverence and a sharp pang, a reminder of everything I’ve lost.

“I have some last-century medicinal goblets somewhere.” Nicostratus flings open a cupboard, clattering around. He shuts it with a frown, waving it off. “Must’ve moved them.”

An akla enters and sets food on a table, tutting at us for studying the tapestries in such dim light. She lights a few candles, leaving us bathed in a warm glow. Nicostratus clears his throat and gestures to the table.

“Eat, please?”

His plea is soft, earnest. I drop into a chair beside him and force a grape into my mouth.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a while, lifting his determined gaze to mine. “I’ll provide for all your wants. I’ll see your family gets what they need.” His hand covers my cold, bare one. “Stay with me. I’ll always take care of you. Anything you need. Everything.”

I swallow thickly. “Do you think it’s impossible for my meridians to be healed?”

Nicostratus pats my hand. “I’ve never liked the word impossible. Perhaps there’s a healer out there who could help.”

My breath catches. “You really think so?”

“Hinsard is well known for having the most travelled healers in the kingdoms. Maybe one of them has seen something on their journeys.”

I pluck a few more grapes, chewing quickly.

Nicostratus chuckles. “Only . . .”

“Only?”

“Follow the healer’s orders and rest another week first.”

“I’m fully healed. The spell was . . . miraculous.” Yet even that healer couldn’t repair my meridians.

I shake off the disheartening thought. Hope. Stay hopeful. If I look hard enough, if I never give up, maybe the heavens will reward me. Fix me.

“Regardless,” Nicostratus says, scowling into the middle distance, “I’d feel better if we waited.” He snaps back to a smile. “That gives me time for my scouts to discern what the situation is in the city.”

Patience. I must be worthy enough.

I nod.

I wait.

I spend my days helping all over the estate—from sweeping to cooking to cleaning out privy pots. I help the aklas change the bedding, and Petros take stock of inventory. “You’re much too helpful,” he says, laughing. “Take a rest. Nicostratus should be at the training grounds, now that he’s waited out the doctor’s orders.”

I smirk and leave Petros to it, making my way to Nicostratus.

I stand at the periphery, silently observing his combat practice from the shadows. He moves with grace and fluidity, a blur of magic and motion. Then he picks up a crude sword and spars with his personal guards. Steel clashes and vibrates through the air, shivering over my skin. He is all precision, perfection. He’s lost nothing.

I swallow. If I’m a good enough person, maybe I won’t lose everything, either.

I spend the afternoon near the kitchens, grinding grains with a quern stone, hoping soon I’ll be doing this with herbs. My eyes are covered by warm fingers, and I call out Nicostratus’s name. He pulls his hands away, and the first thing I see is his grin. “I’ve something you’ll be interested in.”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >63

Advertisement
The King’s Man (The King’s Man #2) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-2-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:20:35 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-2-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 59723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >62

A healer on the rise. A masked merchant hiding too much. A kingdom where the wrong kind of magic can cost you everything.

Cael is used to being underestimated. A par-linea healer in a world where magic is only for the elite, he’s fought for every scrap of recognition, and now, he’s finally earned a place in the royal city. But ambition has a price, and when he once again crosses paths with that sharp-tongued merchant who knows too much, their game of wits threatens to turn deadly.

Quin is an enigma, a man who moves through court like a shadow, watching, waiting. His gaze lingers too long, his smirks cut too deep, and when a violent conspiracy unfolds within the palace walls, Cael finds himself ensnared in a battle far bigger than himself. With wyverns wreaking havoc and a high duke tightening his grip, the city is on the verge of collapse. And somehow, Quin is always at the centre of it.

Torn between ambition and survival, Cael must decide who he can trust. But in a world where power is wielded more sharply than magic, trust may be the most dangerous weapon of all.

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 Slow-burn romance crackling with tensionA healer hero who refuses to back downCourtly intrigue, masked secrets, and deadly politicsHigh-stakes magic and rebellionPerfect for fans of "The Captive Prince," "The Magician’s Guild," and "The Priory of the Orange Tree."

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Florentius sweeps through the royal city’s maze-like corridors, his green robes a blur against the stone walls. I follow, heart pounding, dreading another of Chiron’s infamous quizzes.

We reach the intricately carved archway marking entry to Chiron’s domain—shelves brimming with jars, the air thick with mingled scents of dried herbs and old parchment.

Chiron’s sharp gaze lands on Florentius and me, entering late.

We hurriedly sit.

“Aquamintis, earthbloom, aetherpelis, mastic resin, silvarias,” Chiron lists. “What ailment can these ingredients treat?”

Makarios and Mikros rise to answer. Makarios thrives on following Mikros, and Mikros rarely misses a chance for a joke. Together, they’ve provided some comfort to the start of my studies.

Before they can speak, Chiron raises a forbidding hand. “Let’s have a green-sash answer. Cael.”

The endless ‘let’s test Cael’ drills. I suppress my sigh and mentally assemble the herbs: aquamintis and earthbloom for stomach issues; aetherpelis as an amplifier; silvarias for tissue regeneration; mastic resin for ulcers. “Gastrotrype helkosis.”

Chiron nods reluctantly. “Describe the treatment process.”

“First, sedate the patient. Then treat the lesions, followed by a sealing spell for post-care.”

Chiron’s expression is flat. “Florentius, explain the more efficient method.”

“Stack the spells to conserve energy,” Florentius answers. “Combine the herbs into basic compounds and apply them in a single, layered spell, starting with sedation—unless the patient must stay conscious.”

Florentius’s answer is quick and precise, earning a rare nod of approval. I grit my teeth.

The room hums with quiet concentration as we weigh compounds and stack spells under Chiron’s watchful eye. Makarios mutters jokes to keep the mood light, but my focus is on the scales, each adjustment feeling like a test of my worth.

“You’re behind,” Chiron’s voice cuts through my concentration, unwelcome but not unexpected. “Without improvement, you will not reach medius-complex competency in time for the fourth examination. Prepare yourself.”

I clench my hands at my sides. The warning hangs heavily. He knows I spend hours practicing. He’s telling me to give up. But I won’t. I force my mind back to its task and shut out all else.

I’m so successful that by the time the change in atmosphere reaches me, all laughter and chatter has died. The air has shifted—sharper, heavier—cutting through the apothecary’s calm like a blade.

I freeze as a limp figure, her drenched form glistening under the lamplight, is carried into the treatment room on a stretcher. Through the open doorway, I can see blood dripping from her mouth, staining the stone floor.

Chiron snaps into action, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around him. But even as he works, the whispers start—the fear.

“Water wyverns,” Florentius murmurs, low enough for only me to hear. The words send a shiver down my spine.

Chiron curses.

My fingers twitch, aching to help—something—as the akla’s breaths slow, each one shallower than the last. Her chest stills.

Silence falls, smothering the apothecary like a heavy shroud. A mage draws a sheet over her, the sound unbearably soft against the deafening quiet.

My chest tightens, and the air grows thick, refusing to fill my lungs. A life lost—so quickly, so easily. Despite the spells of vitalians.

I whisper, hesitantly. “I thought royal bloods can control water wyverns?”

“Evidently not,” Florentius says grimly. “Or they won’t.”

The air carries a faint tang of salt, sharp and unnatural. I breathe in this scent of poison, unease curling in my chest. What else is the royal city hiding? “Any chance to survive an attack?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >62

Advertisement
The King’s Man (The King’s Man #1) Read Online Anyta Sunday http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-1-read-online-anyta-sunday Wed, 04 Jun 2025 21:20:31 +0000 http://www.wownovels.com/the-kings-man-the-kings-man-1-read-online-anyta-sunday Genre: Fantasy/Sci-fi, M-M Romance, Magic, Paranormal Authors: Anyta Sunday Series: The King's Man Series by Anyta Sunday
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >76

Healing is his calling. Love is his curse. And this is just the beginning.

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?”

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >76