Crown And Thorn Book Novels & Stories

The king didn't care about them, they were abandoned in a tiny house behind the castle. In another scene ; It looked like a dungeon and Anna saw Teresia chained and she looked awfully tortured. She looked starved and heavily beaten, Anna felt pity what can she do? And she realised she can do nothing. While pitying Teresa, heavy footsteps were heard heading her way. Anna watched the evil King get in the dungeon “ Now tell me how to get those powers " King Gabriel roared Teresia looked at him with disdain and hate ” I don't have any powers and even if I had, I could never give it to you “

Elara Thornfield was a woman of many secrets, a puzzle the world could never fully solve. To outsiders, she appeared cold and distant, entirely consumed by her work. But beneath her stoic exterior lay layers of complexity, haunted by vivid, exhausting dreams that left her drained each morning. As she stood on the precipice of a life-changing moment, her choices narrowed to two: 'DO OR DIE'.

Every chapter will now be written in 3rd point of view As the students stood in shock at the sight of the poisoned katana, Caleb’s gaze swept across the crowd, his expression unreadable. The tension in the air was thick with uncertainty and fear. “I’ll ask again,” Caleb’s voice rang out, cutting through the silence like a blade. “State your name and faction, or face the consequences.” The students exchanged uneasy glances, their minds racing with questions and suspicions. Who could have orchestrated such a brazen attack on the academy? Was there truly a traitor among them, working from within the school’s walls?

Never! He smiled with a proud glint in his eye as she lifted her head. One of the attendants offered a rough-looking black circular crown, the top spike in the center adorned with a massive black gemstone. Around the circlet's base are four long horn-like thorns. Nothing about the crown screamed glamor; everything about it roared status and dominance.

Each one carried something. A piece of bone. A vial of blood. A scrap of black lace. And one of them—taller than the rest, her veil as long as a train of smoke—stepped forward. In her hands, she held it. The crown. Made of dead rose petals and twisted metal. The thorns still wet with something darker than blood. It pulsed faintly, as though alive. I took a step back. Ethan—or what was left of him—stood behind me. He didn’t say a word.

Yoel rushed to Holly's side and wrapped her in the safety of his arms. His eyes preyed towards the crowd. When he glared at Cecilia — the girl who had started it all — his glare was so intense it was as if he wanted to lash out at her.

**Chapter 15: Thorns in the Crown** The spires of **Eldarhold** glinted under a pale winter sun, cold and sharp as the whispers that drifted through its marble halls. Deep beneath the Royal Citadel, the **Crown Tribunal** gathered — not in the public council chamber where laws were judged, but behind sealed bronze doors, far from the ears of the realm. The meeting room was circular, its domed ceiling painted with a celestial mural — twelve figures forming a broken ring. Eleven seats were filled. One remained forever empty.

he said, voice dropping, gritty. “He’s not solo. You hear that?” She swallowed hard, forcing her breath thin, tuning out the thud in her ears. There—soft scuffs, boots on concrete, more than one pair echoing faint. Her gut twisted. They were boxed in, and that vial—Dorian’s sick little gift—was out there, laughing at her from the dark. “Perfect,” she grumbled, edging tighter to the wall, her arm brushing Roman’s. His heat stuck to her, and it was stupid how it messed with her head.

Suddenly, chains shot out of the ground like vines, snaking around my body and wrapping me tight. “Hey,” I screamed as I writhed and struggled against the chains. "Fucking let go of me you fucking creep.” Thorne said nothing–just walked up to me, his hands behind his back. Standing in front of me, he tilted his head to the side and two smaller chains exploded from the floor beneath me, gripping the sides of my mouth and forcing it open. “Two thousand years," he muttered, the chains tilting to force my face to meet his. "I have been trapped in that devil-damned book by my own brother.”

The students in the dormitories cried out, their voices a mix of fear and relief, and I heard Theron shouting for them to run, to leave, to not look back. I stood over Lorna, the crown in my hands, its thorns cutting my palms. Blood dripped down my wrists, mixing with the black liquid that still clung to the thorns. The gold beneath my skin surged, and the crown began to glow—not black, not dark, but gold. Pure, bright, living gold. The king screamed. His voice echoed in my mind, in the bond, in the shadow itself. And then he was gone. The crown went still.