Romans & histoires Booktok Crown

Kael remained thoughtful. "Did anyone else?" "I don't think so." He nodded. "Good." I blinked. "Good?" "If they had..."he didn't finish the sentence, he didn't even need to, but the implication alone made my stomach twist. Kael walked to one of the towering shelves and removed another book. This one looked even older. The leather binding had nearly fallen apart. He placed it carefully before me and opened it, inside was a faded illustration. A man stood wearing an ancient crown, his eyes looked strangely familiar and around his wrist... was a glowing silver symbol.

The Crown floated above the throne. Silver light poured from it endlessly. The ancient voice thundered through the chamber. "The unworthy shall never rule." The words echoed everywhere. Malrik stared at the Crown. Hatred twisted his face. Years...he had spent years chasing power. Years hunting Ariana, years searching for the kingdom. And the Crown had rejected him with a single touch. --- Then something unexpected happened. The Crown turned toward Ariana and Orion. The silver glow intensified. The guardians immediately knelt once more.

I whispered. "Veronica…Veronica has the crown," Lucas whispered and paused to take a deep breath. "What crown? I don't understand… I mean, she's a princess so she's entitled to a fancy crown, no?" I asked, throwing my hands in the air. "It should not be a big deal—" "She has the crown with the royal seal," Lucas growled, interrupting my statement. He looked up to meet my gaze and I could see his eyes glow red. How much I hate that fiery temper of an Alpha.

At the center, resting atop a stone pedestal, is a jagged crown—half bone, half scorched gold, smoldering with silent flame. Ceres (awestruck): "That's it…" Lady Ilven (reverently): "The Crown of Flame and Bone. Forged in dragonfire. Tempered with the blood of the first Umbra king. It can only be worn by a rightful heir." Guard (low voice): "It looks like it's… alive." Indeed, the crown pulses faintly as if breathing. Ceres: "Why bring me here?" I'm not here to rule. I want answers." Lady Ilven (approaching the pedestal):

she urges before her fingers leave my chin. * * * * * * * ABEL EVERHART'S POV The great crown shimmers under the light of the morning sun as it sets on a raised platform surrounded by ten masked guards, some who must be her Majesty's men who stole uniform last night from the real guards. King Elon's throne sets not far from the crown, and another equally guilded and heavily cushioned seat beside it. My guess is that it is meant for Queen Rowena, whom he desires to be his Queen.

The silver crown encrusted with diamonds and black gems. “No,” I murmur, tears leaking down the corners of my eyes and trickling to my hairline. “Please. I don’t want to do this. I can’t do this. Please let me go. I have a child. That’s not my crown. It can never be mine.” “Maybe not now.” Deimos looks at the crown and sets it down on the table before picking the book up. “But after this, you will be my Queen, and everything will be yours.”

"The man who wrote the Ledger isn't in a grave. He’s sitting on the throne." Elara stared at the vial. If the man who wrote the book of secrets was the same man who had been murdered... then who was the person Joren was claiming to be? Before she could ask, a massive bolt of black lightning shot up from the city below, striking Korth Square in the chest. The dragon screamed, his wings folding as they began a death spiral toward the jagged rooftops of the capital. "Elara!" Korth’s human voice cried out in her head. "The Crown! He's already using the Crown!"