Novel & Cerita Crown Of Ash

“Princess Deloris, will you uphold the customs and duties of the crown?” I nod my head. “I will.” The same voice booms again and snaps me yet again to attention. “Princess Deloris, do you accept the crown?” Again, I nod. “I do.” A couple of clergy step forward. One puts the crown on my head, while the other places the royal golden egg with my family’s crest in my hand. My eyelids again dip, but a slight pain in my shoulder has me whipping my eyelids wide open again.

"The scent of cheap whiskey and rot-gut moonshine doesn't suit a fallen Ashford, Lyra." Alpha Tristan Crowne stood silhouetted against the reinforced glass of the Crowne Dominion Tower, his back to me. The city lights of the Cheshire Territory flickered like dying embers below us.

I had no answer. She let me go. Her gaze shifted to the urn in my arms. "You won't take this when it's offered? Then I am taking it from you. "You will not see your father's ashes again." She reached. The blood in my arms went cold. The control I had been holding cracked. "Please… please don't. It wasn't me. I'll do anything, anything you want. Just don't." I was about to fall to my knees again. I would have. The pride and dignity I'd had walking in here had been gone for hours.

“The crown reframes the vow, but we still must end the cycle of ashes.” They descended. The ridge broke off into old mining tunnels, carved by the first blood‑vowers, now collapsed, silent. Only the scarred rocks spoke, blackened by centuries of shadow. But the crown glowed gold, guiding them. Sarah moved ahead, blade raised. “Stay close, the tunnels opened into a cavern that smelled of soot and old sorrow. At the center sat the Chamber of Ashes, a circular pit filled with grey ash, embers still glinting. Runes carved into the rim glowed faintly spirals and wolf­moons and broken chains, the air hummed, every breath felt like inhaling regret.

“The first king cannot return without a body.” Shigure looked at me. “A body carrying royal tide blood and wolf memory.” Cael gave a bitter laugh. “So everyone chose the same girl.” The book opened again. This page showed the blood moon. Three crowns circled beneath it. The Tide Crown. The Stormcrest Crown. A third crown made from black bone. Words burned across the glass. WHEN THE THREE CROWNS MEET, THE FIRST KING MAY RISE. THE LAST QUEEN MUST BE EMPTIED.

I said, forcing steadiness into my voice despite the terror clawing through my chest at the sight of Kade, bound and bleeding, watching this exchange with an expression of fury and helpless fear that I'd never once seen from him across every previous crisis we'd survived together. "I want the crown," Ashen said simply. "Not the bond. Not some ancient power to redirect toward old grievances. Just the crown itself, and the territory that comes with it, surrendered formally, publicly, by a King choosing his human bride's life over his kingdom's sovereignty. That's a story my bloodline can use for generations — proof that the current arrangement was always built on something as fragile as a King

1. Ashes of the Trial Grounds Smoke curled upward from the cracked marble. The once pristine altar now lay in ruin, scorched black and littered with the remnants of a shattered crown. The Council had scattered in fear. The surviving spectators had fled. Only Ava remained—centered in the storm’s eye. Her breath was shallow. The Shadow Crown still hovered above her head, untethered by steel or skin, pulsing with its own awareness. Rowan stood at her side, hands trembling.

Just then, a small head peeked through the suffocating smoke. “Madam, do you need any help?” someone asked timidly. I forced my eyes open and saw a young boy who was about the same age as my son. He was covered in ash and dirt, but his eyes shone brightly through the smoke. He was so small in size, yet he managed to muster the strength to help me up. Then, together, we slowly made our way outside. The path to the outside was incredibly challenging, and I felt like giving up several times.

“I think I can teach her what it means to wear my crown.” By nightfall, Amara summoned her war council. Cassian arrived first, a bruise darkening his jaw. Then Dante — alive but ragged, fresh from a mission in Istanbul. Mateo stood near the back, silent, his loyalty uncertain since the blood oath had been broken. On the table before them lay a crown — the black crown Damien had once sent her, forged from fragments of soldiers’ skulls. It glinted faintly under the light. “This is what she’s after,” Amara said. “She believes the crown will make her sovereign. But a symbol without blood is just a decoration.”

All of his hype comes from his brothers, how good-looking he is or horny people who like smut-filled books. His brothers are just as famous as him. His eldest brother, Christian Crown runs a few strands of clubs and hotels. The middle brother, Khalil Crown is the maker and designer of the Crown. A car luxury brand, which became as popular as BMWs, Teslas, Lamborghinis, Mercedes and other car brands in just its first year of being produced. Soon enough they became on the same level as Rolls Royce, Lambos and other luxury cars. I do have to admit Crown cars are sexy as fuck.