Crimson Gown Novels & Stories

***** Cassandra walks down the corridor heading for her quarters, the dark stone walls of the palace walls unsettling as they always have, as she turns the corner she comes face to face with Ophelia, a fellow witch and also the bane of her existence. Ophelia smiles, her fiery red hair framing her face, her green eyes gleaming an unusual colour in the dim corridor. Her cloak conceals her entire form. Ophelia is a gifted witch who, unlike her, has everything delivered to her door with a single snap of her pretty fingers. On the other hand, Cassandra has to work day and night to finally reach where she is today and be able to earn a spot in Lord Carlton elite soldiers. But what is unexpected fo

Gio spoke and pointed to the water. “No. It’s okay” and I smiled at him awkwardly. “It’s okay. You seem thirsty” “You sure?” “Yeah.” He answered while nodding. I get the water goblet and drink it rapidly. I can see on my peripheral vision that Gio is looking at me. I finally turned back my sight on the stage and Cristine took a sit on the side of the stage. She’s wearing a big black gown that has a slit. It’s a V-neck gown that has sequins as details. She looked like a princess today. The star of the night.

I looked like a dwarf beside him although I am taller than other girls, as I am five feet seven inches. “I am asking what your name is…” he said in his cold tone and I felt stupid in front of him. I thought he was staring at me but he was just waiting for my answer about my name. I breathed out heavily. My rating for delivery will go down from one to zero because he doesn't seem happy with my delivery service. Oh, shit*! “My name is… my name is... Crimson.” There! I gave him my name! I don’t like my name at all. How I wish that the orphanage named me Red or Scarlet and it was much better than Crimson.

I had it put on, and staring at myself in the mirror, I couldn't help but admire every single bit of the gown. It was a red gown with black crystal-like stones on it. It signified judgement, and anyone that was guilty would definitely face nothing but the wrath of the pack. Just as I kept staring at myself in the mirror, a sudden knock came at the door. “Come in!” I commanded, knowing who it was. A maid younger than I was came into the room with a pillow in her hand and my necklace on it. I picked it up and had it placed around my neck and took my earrings. A smile crept even wider on my lips seeing how beautiful I looked and how ready I was to face everyone in the Blackwood pack.

A single raise of an eyebrow had me dropping them again and even though I was a vampire, I could feel my self shivering. He nodded at my gown. ''You should get dressed.'' I tried to pull up the gown but Clarrisa had made me wear a gown that was two sizes too small she had brought from heaven-knows-where. He dragged a hand through his hair, the first sign of fraustration I had seen from him. ''If you can't put on the damn gown then leave it and come and sit over here. You and I are going to have a long talk -- nothing I haven't already seen.'' He added, his eyes raking through my bare skin and making my face heat once again as he locked the door and pocketed the key.

ILANA. The Blood Moon Festival came five days too early. On the third evening, the moon bathed its eerie, crimson glow over the Nightshade Pack. This was an event rarely experienced and considered by the pack to be a sign from the Moon Goddess, hastening the fate of two destined mates. The pack was in an uproar of joyful frenzy. The whole of the pack square hummed with excitement, as though even the air vibrated in anticipation. I faltered at the door to Rana's small cabin and brushed off invisible lint from the pale blue dress that Rana had lent me for tonight. "Rana, are you sure about this?" I asked, trying to keep the nerves from edging my voice.

A calming breath through my nose settled me and I cleared my throat. ​“Thank you for coming. Welcome to Tencrest Manor. Tonight marks the 200th year of the Crimson Accord. This season’s Crimson Ball focuses on the unity of the Founding Ten, those who helped build the Accord and continue to support its history and tradition. We have a busy month ahead of us. Events are scheduled for most nights and I encourage everyone to partake. Please do not hesitate to ask the staff, if you have specific needs. I look forward to pursuing another year of peace between our families.” I spare a look at Abigail who has retreated to her seat and am relieved to see her approving smile.

The room felt alive. Laughter. Clinking glasses. Gentle music. But all of that faded when she walked in. The grand doors at the far end of the ballroom opened once again, and every pair of eyes instinctively turned. Veronica. She stood beneath the arched doorway, her figure illuminated by the golden light of the chandeliers. Her gown was a deep, seductive shade of crimson, the kind that commanded attention and promised trouble. The fabric hugged her curves like a sin, glittering faintly with every movement.

Neera stood in her balcony, the skyline behind her glowing gold and steel. The letter burned quickly in the fireproof dish she kept for other purposes — evidence disposal, mostly. She watched it curl and blacken until nothing but ash remained. Kieran Renzaro’s offer — his arrogant, polished, impossible offer — was reduced to smoke. And she didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t play his game. Wouldn’t be someone’s pawn, no matter how shiny the paycheck or how seductive the power behind it. She wasn’t for sale.

Watching her break has always been my favorite pastime. I rose, walking to the tall mirror at the corner of the room. Hanging nearby was the gown I had commissioned months ago: crimson silk, embroidered with gold thread, crystals glittering across the bodice. It would cling to every curve, daring anyone to look away. “Tomorrow,” I whispered, touching the fabric, “I’ll shine brighter than anyone. The whole nation will know me as Ravencrest’s future Luna.”