His Highness Male Consort Novels & Stories

"Princess, you're overthinking. I just didn't want to get blood on your dress," I said. The three gentlemen, sensing the tension, didn't dare speak. Only the one with eyes similar to Gregory stepped forward. "Princess, I know medicine. Perhaps I could bandage the Consort's wound." "It's just a small injury. Your only job is to attend to the Princess," I immediately said. Before the man could even respond, Keisha grabbed another vase and smashed it.

She did not have that many friends and all, due to being the Royal Niece of His Grand Alpha, so she asked if He could join her and her family instead. After the death of our Grand leaders, The Royal Highness', His Highness was placed under the Stewardship of His Uncle Jacque Reeves. That is until His Highness came of age of 18 and could rightfully assume the throne at that proper time. A few years later, when His Highness did turn 18 years, there was a Grand Celebration where His Highness was able to assume the throne and therefore take over leadership from His Highness's Uncle. Everyone both respected and revered His Highness. No one past that point had dared to cross Him.

“Prince Edith will inherit this throne after seventy to seventy-five years. Until then, Queen Helena’s son will take over the throne. Now, it’s your duty to serve her well, Alpha Zayden. Only a male heir born out of a Royal marriage is eligible to sit on the throne. Meet me at the evening snacks, I’ll teach you how to do it properly!” My cheeks were burning to hear her bold perspective, her demand for another child made me nervous. As she wasn’t stopping on my accord, Zayden decided to stop her nonsense. “I’ll take lady Cynthia’s courtyard. Please shift my belongings here.” Trainer Jessica looked at me for permission, I nodded promptly. “Anything my consort says!” She then ordered the securi

"Unfortunately, as Joan's my only daughter, I will only accept you as a consort." "Consort?" Tom looked hesitant, but was actually celebrating inside. After all, this was exactly what he had planned for. He was an oil baron and a businessman foremost—being appointed a consort still meant he would become royalty. And who was to say what would happen when Avid died? For all they knew, someone else other than Prince Novak might inherit the throne… It was exactly what Mark had planned—to reduce Renee to his puppet and send her back to Ambrossia, after which Mark would usurp the throne himself.

When we reached the ballroom, the guards on the door bowed to the five of us, before opening the doors wide, the ballroom ahead falling silent. “We’ve got this,” I murmured through our mate link. “I love you all.” “It’s my pleasure to introduce to you all, her Highness Queen Avelina Wroblewski, and her Consorts, Kings Callum and Oscar Lewis, and Kings Noah and Theodore Hughes.” Michael stood on a platform at the end of the hall, a five-seat table behind him with unnecessarily over the top chairs. Not quite thrones, but not far from it.

“What?” “Yeah,” he gestures with his index finger, showing me the different stages on an invisible blackboard. “For kings it’s always ‘Your Majesty’ and then ‘Sire’ and ‘Sir’. It doesn’t matter if they are crowned or not, because we get the title with the throne directly as soon as the old king steps down or is thrown from it, and we don’t need to wait for a ceremony to constitute that. But for the King Consort it is a bit different. They get the title through the crowning ceremony, and therefore they have to be addressed accordingly.” I watch him dumbfounded when he finishes speaking and flashes me a happy smile. He must be proud of having been able to explain it to me, which makes him look

We stood behind the big door again, waiting to get in but mommy and daddy held me back, still holding my hands waiting for the door to open, waiting for our names to be called first, that's what mama said. "Her Royal Highness Queen Amber Draca," a voice calls. "His Royal Highness King Oscar Draca," the voice calls again, calling my daddy's name. "Her Royal Highness Princess Kenedi Draca," the voice finally says and all three of us walked into the room. Everyone turned to us, there were more people than there were in the ceremony, all standing up in the room that was all decorated with flowers, the whole room went quiet as we went down the stairs slowly, and then they all went down on their k

“Zenia, did you not inform these young nobles of your marriage arrangements?” I nodded in acknowledgment of my fault. Then, I turned and gave Henry, who was still bowing, a faint smile. Henry froze. His expression was tense. That look of his was quite to my liking. Smiling politely, I accepted the royal decree from the court lady and announced it loudly. “My Prince Consort is Justin Yale, the prince of the Western Regions.” The hall erupted in an uproar. Zachariah jumped to his feet in shock. “Your Highness, did you make a mistake? Haven’t you always—”

"And in this Kingdom, the mother of a Royal Prince cannot be 'just a Knight.' He would have to be your Consort. Your husband. Permanently." I looked out the window again, toward the training grounds where Rowan was barking orders. If what Dorian was saying is true, then wouldn't that mean I could keep Rowan by my side forever? "Find the text, Dorian," I said, my voice steady and cold. "Bring it to me tonight." "As you wish, Your Majesty." I leaned back in my chair, a slow, predatory smile spreading across my face. I will do everything within my power to make him mine whether he likes it or not.

In one fluid motion, I was pulled into a chest — solid, warm, familiar — while the tray clattered onto the nearby table, drink miraculously still upright. “I’ve got you,” came a low, calm voice. My heart skidded in my chest. I looked up — and froze. Leon Albourne. The nation’s most admired heir. The man every tabloid nicknamed The Perfect Prince. The newly appointed Director of AV Tech. My new boss starting today. And, more importantly… my soon-to-be husband in a marriage no one but our families knew about. He looked down at me with unreadable eyes, dark and sharp like midnight storms. His grip on my arms was firm, protective, but his face remained composed — cool, as if he hadn’t just caugh