Romans & histoires Crown Falls

"That's not how the Widow operates." "No," Eirwen said. "It's not." Something moved in Reiss's expression. The recalibration of a woman who had been working with an outdated model. She looked back at Dom. "If I stand down, you stay in Crown District." "Crown District stays what it's always been," Dom said. "Functional. Profitable. No worse for Shadow's interests than it was before the Tower fell, and considerably more stable than it would be after forty-seven units and a street war."

With their parents, they made their way to the carriage, the anticipation hanging thick in the air as they journeyed to the palace. The palace was alive with a myriad of guests, comprising high-ranking nobles and dignitaries hailing from distant lands. Despite the grandeur of the occasion, Elen felt the weight of her anxiety deepen as she scanned the crowd, unable to catch a glimpse of Addison. The Duke of Windsor and Chiara wandered off to greet other nobles, leaving Elen feeling marooned in a sea of unfamiliar faces, her heart aching with the longing for her beloved prince.

My blood ran cold. Rico’s hand found mine under the table, squeezing gently. “He won’t get near her.” Juno glanced between us. “Then we need to make sure of that. Together.” For the first time since the threat had been named, I felt something other than fear. Resolve. That night, as I stood on the balcony watching the city lights flicker like stars fallen to earth, Rico joined me, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “They’re coming for our crown,” I said quietly.

Betty’s hands trembled slightly as she fastened the clasps at Emilia’s back, and Emilia couldn’t help but notice her nervousness. “Relax, Betty,” she said gently. “You’re doing well.” Betty blushed, nodding quickly. “Thank you, Your Highness.” Once she was dressed, Matron Isla gestured to a silver circlet resting on a velvet pillow. “Shall I place your coronet, Your Highness?” Emilia hesitated, the sight of the intricate piece making her stomach twist. It was beautiful, but it felt like another layer of distance between herself and her old life. “No,” she said softly. “Not today.”

She said as she broke the kiss. Back in Veyra By nightfall, the city of Veyra loomed beneath them, lit with too many torches for peace. Horns sounded across the ridge, signaling late council — a rare, dangerous thing. Someone had forced the council’s hand. They crouched on a rooftop two buildings from the council spire. From this height, they could see guards stationed at every entrance. Inside, silhouettes moved in tight formation — pacing, agitated. Armed. Kaela leaned closely. “We’re out of time.” Her eyes were studying everything below us.

A knight must be loyal to the crown—and every knight was expected to follow everything the king demands. "How was the search?" King Terrowin asked in a monotone. Kael raised his head, seeing the king's middle-aged face, with sharp, midnight eyes. His curly hair, as black as a crow—ran down to his shoulders. On his head the ice crown rested. Its majestic blue form and the elegant diamond gem at the crown’s front would force anyone to bow his/her head in respect. "Still no sign of the Forgotten Winter, Your Highness," Kael replied as he stood up straight. "We've got no leads in Hailborne City. And we're still waiting for the report from the other search in Casterfall."

She tiptoed towards him, she extended her hand and she was about to get the book when it was too late because the book had already fallen. It creates a sound, she looks at the prince if he wakes up but he's not. She continued to get the book, she bent and held it. She picked up the book and was about to stand straight when she saw the crown prince's face, she stopped and then looked at him. His legs cross, he looks so elegant in his royal black suits. His hair was down and messy, it's her first time seeing his hair messy. Usually he's hair is well styled, his lips are pinkish. Damn did he use something on his face? Why is he so blessed? Hope all are blessed by the above, he has this face tha

With his attire and the way he stood with the crown and staff in his hand, one could tell it was their warlord in flesh and blood. He stood among them in his full glory. A crown on and a staff which looked like that of kings of the ancient times. "All hail the king of old!!". "All hail the king of old!!". The crowd chorused with their heads bowed onto the floor, hailing their warlord who stood with a hand folded into a ball at his back, and his face looking cold with no emotions in them. They bowed their heads and the king olor with his daughter, princess Lucy kneeled bowing as they sang praises hailing their warlord.