A Crown This Cold And Heavy Audiobook Novels & Stories

"Sienna! You have no place to speak here! Are you trying to get the Alpha's attention with these scare tactics again?" "Attention?" I sneered, presenting more evidence: preserved bodies of dead animals, mutated plant samples, and a report on the poisoned water supply. "Look at this! This corruption... it preys on those with gifts first. It will destroy our home!" The room fell silent. Everyone knew I possessed the gift of Earth Empathy. "Nonsense!" Marcus's face flushed red. Just then, the door was thrown open. Horton strode in, his icy gaze sweeping over the council before landing squarely on me.

The moment I left the manor behind, my phone buzzed, a coded message from James, our family's tutor. "Harriet, your dad's on the warpath. He's threatened to erase me from Norchester if I don't sway you to his way of thinking: change your college choice, agree to a strategic marriage. He's even rallied the Blood Oath Brotherhood in Engleton against you, to teach you the price of defiance." My fingers clenched around the phone until they turned pale. That was his master stroke. I thought I broke free, but he was spinning a new web all along. What was waiting for me in Engleton?

She wished so hard that there would be no single hint of awkwardness between them or else, it would be the end of her. As she walked toward the horse, King Lawson held her by the shoulder and stood in front of her. She watched him take off his black cape that was trimmed with gold and had the head of a wolf growling embroidered on it. Before she could retaliate for not wanting to wear it, the king put it around her shoulder before lifting it up to her head. “We will be heading back under the scorching heat of the sun. It will be a problem if you faint due to the heat,” he said.

“A moment of unity and peace.” The words rolled off his tongue easily, but to me, they sounded like he’d rehearsed them a hundred times. I tuned him out halfway through. My eyes focused on the crown. It looked wrong. I couldn’t help but notice how heavy it was and the way it glimmered unnaturally under the lights. The whole thing just felt like a trap. My fingers were clenched tightly at my sides. When the officiant raised the crown slowly, his arms trembled just a little. “Kneel,” he said quietly.

Sighing, I look down at the photos again as Crimson shows me another. It's me, looking vibrant, other than the sour look on my face. My dress is a beautiful emerald green, matching Crimson's. We stand in the entrance of what must be this home, clutching each others hands as we look at two men facing us. The older man of the two wears a large crown adorned with fat jewels that are impressive, even in this photograph. The other wears a smaller, silver crown atop their deep brown, almost black hair. "What's that photo?" I ask curiously.

Echoes of the Moon John Crowe felt the weight of a hundred souls pressing down on him. The crown cold at first had turned warm on his head, then pulsed as though alive. It wasn’t just power resting on him, It was history, betrayal, memory, vows long broken, now reforged in blood and light.

“Truth destabilizes kingdoms.” Aera stepped closer. “Then maybe it deserves to be destabilized.” ⸻ The Crown’s Echo That night, Aera dreamed. She stood before the divided crown—three arcs hovering in the air. Two glowed faintly. The third remained dark. A voice whispered: Find the others. She woke with her sigil blazing. Not reacting. Calling. ⸻ Elsewhere A hooded figure knelt in candlelight. “The Crown is waking,” they said. Another voice answered, calm and cold. “Good. Let her search.” “And the other heir?” A pause. “Break them first.”

The Crown wasn’t just pulsing now. It was blazing. Like it was trying to burn its way out of her. Damien noticed instantly. “Hey,” he said, gripping her shoulders. “Stay with me.” “I can’t breathe.” “You can.” “It’s too loud,” she whispered. Not the people. Not the screams. The Crown. It was singing now. And the melody was pulling her apart. Then— A presence. Cold. Immense. Close. Aria’s head snapped toward the open palace doors behind them.

Total, heavy silence. The only sounds were Rosa's muffled sobs and Marco's labored breathing. Dante's expression changed from one of fury to horror, then disbelief. He stared at me like I was some stranger. Three minutes ticked by. The ping from Swisswell Bank cut through the quiet like a knife. [Your account has been credited with 50,000,000 USD.] I signed my name with a flourish, then tossed the contract onto Marco's shocked mug. "A bad girl and her lackey, bound for eternity. May your wedding tomorrow be as cheery as a wake."

He’d left her mom to waste away in a rusted trailer, coughing up her last breaths, while he piled up his shipping billions—money built on the wreckage of the only person who’d ever given a damn about him. Now he was dead, and Sienna was here to spit on the fresh earth. One final jab. Maybe then she’d sleep without dreaming of his smug face. “Hey, Calder?” A voice sliced through the downpour, crisp and too sure of itself. She swung around, squinting through wet bangs, and saw him—a guy in a fancy overcoat, dark hair plastered to his skull, eyes sharp like they could cut steel. Too good-looking for a funeral, with a jawline that belonged in a magazine.