Crowns Quotes Novels & Stories

He quietly said, to the both of us. I had to reign in my temper, as it flared for a brief moment. Mad that all this could have ended so easily, without all the death and grief, if I had only known it was this simple. I opened and closed my mouth a few times, wanting to say something, but also knowing it wasn't the time. So I closed my mouth and bit back the outburst that was daring to come out. Lifting the smaller of the two plain gold crowns, he came to my side. The crown was simple, with no jewels, just woven pieces of precious metal, made to look like vines or branches twisting and coming to a peak.

“What do you think that I must decide then?” “Your Highness, whatever your decision is, please make it bravely. Do it with all due prudence and diligence,” Rowen responded. “This is my advice to you as your friend and as someone who has gone through different titles just to remain alive in Clapestris.”

“Everyone needs money.” “Not everyone,” Adrian said. The words landed heavier than they should have. Jamie laughed softly. “Must be nice.” Adrian didn’t respond. He set the glass down untouched. “I don’t tip because I don’t want my presence here to be transactional.” Jamie frowned. “That doesn’t make sense.”

The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern. I recognized it instantly. Those stones had been purchased at Christie’s, a record-breaking private auction Alexander attended himself. He’d told me they were for my anniversary gift. I kept scrolling. When I broke down last night, he crossed half the city to be with me. Brought my favorite vanilla chocolates. Held me until morning. He said as long as he’s here, I’ll never suffer again. The photo made my vision blur. Alexander asleep. Brows faintly furrowed.

Josh Moore hurried up to the stage with a flash drive in hand and plugged it into the computer. The massive screen in the ballroom flickered to life. The first image was a close-up of an old, faded photograph. Five-year-old Louise had a distinct pink birthmark on the inside of her arm. I walked up to the woman on stage, grabbed her wrist, and turned her arm over, exposing smooth, unmarked skin. "Where's your birthmark, Louise?" Her expression darkened, but she didn't panic. She shook me off with clear irritation, then gave a subtle signal to a nearby server, who quickly brought her handbag over.

I tried to look away, but the memories of both of them were forever etched into my memory, and no matter how much I closed my eyes, I couldn’t stop seeing them, and the loud moans were making it worse. “Don’t be shy now, Zee. Watch how much he loves being inside of me, don’t you dare shy away now.” Karen moaned out; the loud skin sounds had reduced now. She knew I hated it when she called me Zee; she lost that right months ago when she decided to take everything that was mine.

Only enough to show uncertainty but not enough to show fear. “We still control the narrative,” Marcus said, and he could hear the desperation creeping into his voice now, could feel his grip on the situation slipping like sand through clenched fists. “The people still believe in moral corruption. They still believe that the crown has been compromised by degeneracy. All we need is...”

Cross Corporation occupied the top 12 floors of a glass tower on Park Avenue that looked as if God had designed it to make people feel small. The lobby was all white marble and sharp angles, the kind of corporate architecture that whispered you are not important enough to be here at everyone who walked through the revolving doors. Seraphina walked through them at 3:07 p.m., seven minutes late, on purpose, wearing a black suit that cost more than most people’s cars and a pair of heels that clicked on the marble like a countdown.

“You’d think we were summoning ancient spirits with all this ceremony.” Jarvis chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “I know, right? She acts like we’re performing some ancient magic that requires absolute precision. It’s just a way to honor our ancestors, not a spell to conjure werewolf spirits.” Their banter was interrupted by Sevena’s voice, clear and commanding. “Silence,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. “This ritual is a sacred tradition that must be observed with the utmost respect.” Jarvis and Liberty exchanged a knowing look, their amusement tempered by a sense of reverence for the solemnity of the occasion. They knew better than to push their mother too far, es

“Whatever it is. I’m not leaving this corridor until you do.” Above us, the crown watched on, silent, glittering, indifferent to which one of us it would ruin first, or whether, before the sun finally rose over a palace that had no idea what was coming, it might end up ruining all three