Arthur's Grave Novels & Stories

“You knew my father?” The man nodded. “Very well.” Another one. Another person who knew her father. Another ghost from the past. The stranger stepped forward. Ignoring the weapons pointed at him. Ignoring Victor. Ignoring Elena. Ignoring everyone except Amelia. “My name is Arthur Graves.” The name immediately changed Ethan’s expression. Pure hatred flashed across his face. Real hatred. “You’re supposed to be dead.” Arthur laughed. “I’ve heard that before.” The older man stopped a few feet away. Then his eyes settled on the silver key in Amelia’s hand.

“She wanted you to visit Marguerite’s grave. Together. Both of you. She said it wasn’t finished until that happened.” “Marguerite is buried where?” Arabella asked. Arthur’s eyes, tired and steady, moved to Vivian. “Your family’s private plot,” he said. “The one neither of your parents have taken either of you to visit in over fifteen years.”

My powers were there, but I still wasn't sure how to control them. Ciana led me out of the castle. "Where is it?" I asked, moving so that I walked beside her. "I bet you can guess. You were always good at games as a child." She gave me a sideways glance, her eyes watching me. "Athwana Meyana," I said, surprised as the words left my mouth. In the tomb. The same one where Arthur had been buried before Sharra wakened him.

“I’ll send some people over right away, Mr. Anderson.” I arrived at the cemetery, where I came to Caroline’s grave. It was sectioned off with other members of the Lambert family that had passed away, including her brother. Seeing her grave right next to Arthur’s had my heart clenching in my chest. It felt wrong to defile my beloved’s resting place in such a way, but I needed answers.

Nathan watched her removal with cold indifference, already mentally preparing for his exile. As the formal proceedings concluded, Audrey felt a strange mixture of satisfaction and emptiness. Justice had been served, but it wouldn't bring Arthur back. It wouldn't erase two years of manipulation and trauma. Three days after the trial, Audrey stood before a simple granite headstone in the Moonstone Pack cemetery. Arthur's grave was surrounded by territory flowers and pack emblems left by mourning wolves who remembered him as their Alpha. "Thank you, Arthur," she whispered to his tombstone, her voice barely audible in the quiet cemetery. "You kept your word. You d

If she helped the merman to discover what that was, maybe he would be able to stop it. She wasn’t going with him because she found him incredibly attractive, she told herself firmly. She wasn’t going with him because she was lonely. She was going with him because she didn’t want to end up dying alone with no one to bury her, as she had done for Arthur. Arthur’s grave was between two trees, next to the bench that he had built. He had loved that spot, to sit and look out over the river and the trees beyond. He had said it made him feel as if the world was a peaceful place. She sat on the bench next to him as she often did.

He mumbled under his breath in a monotone and closed his eyes, unable to look directly at the broken couple as they stared at the corpse of their oldest son lying naked in front of them. Arthur’s wife came pushing through the crowd before she fell in front of her husband’s body and wailed to her heart’s extent. The other daughters-in-law hugged and comforted the woman, whereas Ila shook with silent sobs in the arms of her husband, who was tracing each scar and bruise of his son’s body with blurry vision until his stony eyes fell on the royal dagger of the Baden plunged in Arthur’s chest. Anyone can recognize it by the imprint of an eagle enclosed in a circle at the hilt. It was the royal sig

"Heather, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll get straight to the point. Arthur is dead and so is your legacy." The words hit her like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of her. "No," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "That can't be true. You're lying!" Mia slid a piece of paper across the table towards Heather. "We knew you wouldn't believe us, so we brought proof." With shaking hands, Heather picked up the letter. It was in Arthur's handwriting. Her eyes scanned the familiar script, disbelief turning to horror as she read the contents.

[Pg 40] And so the weeks and months went by, and then there came a letter from Arthur saying that Harold Hastings had died in Berlin, and been buried at his expense. A few weeks later and Amy, too, lay dead in her coffin; and they buried her under the November snow, which was falling in great sheets upon the frozen ground. What Arthur felt when he heard the news no one ever knew, for he made no sign, but at once gave orders to Colvin that a costly monument should be placed at her grave, with only this inscription upon it: Amy, Aged 23.

Half-buried in weeds. I turned, walked back to the car, and popped the trunk. A sledgehammer sat inside. Gift from a renovation company. Ribbon still tied on. Bright. Almost a joke. I grabbed it, walked back, and stopped in front of the headstone. Taking a breath, I tightened my grip around the cold metal. Then I swung. All in. Smashed it down. Crash. The sound ripped through the empty grounds. Bang. Again. And again. Until it was nothing but broken rubble.