Game Of Thrones Roses นิยาย & เรื่องราว

It was better than telling her I was the woman her evil daughter wanted dead. “Just a woman running from wolves. And this is my daughter, Roses.” The Queen’s eyes lingered on Roses, then flicked back to me. Her pupils narrowed, her chest rose with a breath too deep for calm. She reached out as if to touch Roses, then pulled back her hand at the last moment. “The goddess,” she whispered, barely audible. “She returns what was stolen.” Her words sent a shiver down my spine. My knees nearly buckled. “What are you talking about?” I demanded, clutching Roses tighter.

Nara looked at ivory, she threw seeds out of her bag, the seeds grew into thorns and rapidly approached ivory with the help of Nara. Ivory looked back sensing danger, she no longer concealed her phase, with a wave of her hand the thorns got frozen then shattered, she looked at Nara who was controlling the thorns with her energy and frowned. Ivory put her hands on the floor, ice flowed out and flowed like water to Nara, it touched Nara’s feet in a millisecond all her body was frozen except her head. Chevy watched the drama with an open mouth. He suddenly bowed.

“I thought your room could use something beautiful.” He pushed the roses toward her. She didn’t move to take them. "I like lilies better," she declared bluntly. "Falsehoods." His smile got bigger. "Elara, you're no lily. In the sun, lilies wither. Roses bloom and bleed in it. He lean closer speaking slowly so she alone could hear. “You and I are roses. Power with thorns. And I intend to see you bloom beside me.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if I choose to bloom alone?”

His unhealed, burned shoulder was completely exposed above the blanket. My feet walked me right up to the edge of the bed. I stood over him, tears streaming silently down my cheeks as Rose forced my right arm to slowly rise into the air. The jagged shard of glass caught the silver moonlight, hovering just inches above Rohan’s completely unprotected throat. Let's see how much your choice matters, Rose’s dry, hollow voice whispered right into my ear, her cold laughter echoing in the dark. When you're the one who bleeds him.

I opened the door just a few inches and saw a small cardboard box sitting on the carpet with no name and no return address, so I pulled it inside and opened the lid while the others crowded around me to see what was inside. Resting on a bed of white tissue paper was a single rose made of delicate glass and the stem was broken in half so it looked dead and jagged, and I knew immediately that it was a message from Elena Romano because that rose was the symbol of the investment firm we had burned down in Berlin.

My heart was beating so fast I was sure they could hear it over the low thrum of music. "Gentlemen," Lorenzo began, his voice carrying that smooth authority that made people listen whether they wanted to or not. "I'd like you to meet Ellie Knight." He paused, and I felt his eyes on me even though I was staring at my hands folded in my lap. "She's officially a Black Rose now, under our protection." The words settled over the table like a heavy blanket. I didn't know what being a Black Rose meant, but from the way the three strangers straightened in their seats, it was clearly something significant. Something that changed how they looked at me.

Blood roses. Rafael’s hand tightened around the fragile flower, crushing it slowly between his fingers. A symbol. A secret. Not grief. Not loss. Love. Defiance. War. His lips curled into a dangerous smile. "So," he said softly, almost lovingly. "The game has only just begun." He tossed the crushed rose onto the floor, grinding it under his boot. "Bring me Matteo," Rafael ordered, his voice sharp as a whip. "And this time... bring the girl too."

Disciplinary hearings, anything to keep my mind off the girl with the eyes that saw right through me. Hours passed. My chest still burned. I stopped by the florist on the way back, picking out a bouquet of pale pink roses. Stasia’s favorite. She always said roses were a symbol of grace and loyalty. Traits she said she saw in me. I didn’t correct her. When I knocked at her apartment, she opened the door in a silk robe. Her hair perfectly curled, eyes wide and expectant. I forced a smile. “Ronon,” she breathed, stepping aside. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

TAVIAN’s POV I spotted the rose that morning on my way to the academy with Astarian. A street vendor had set up near the gates, selling flowers for Valentine’s Day—a human tradition that had somehow infected our world. Most of the blooms were wilted or garish, but one rose stood apart. Deep crimson, petals perfect, stem thornless. “That one,” I had told the vendor, pointing. Astarian raised an eyebrow. “For who?” “Dylan.” The name slipped out before I could stop it.

He stayed in the car and waited. Holding a bouquet of white roses, Daisy slowly walked through rows of gravestones until she stopped in front of the one tucked away in the farthest corner. The stone bore only Dario's name and the years of his birth and death. In the photograph, he had on a black suit. His distinct features were exactly the same as the first time Daisy had met him. She placed the white roses in front of the gravestone and stood there silently for a long time. Finally, she said softly, "When I said I wouldn't forgive you, I meant it. But I don't hate you anymore either. Rest in peace."