Kneel Your Grace Novels & Stories

“Dada!” She ran on unsteady legs with her arms windmilling, the black tulle bouncing and the black roses scattering petals behind her. The congregation held its collective breath as she stumbled, caught herself, and kept going straight into Kielan's arms as he dropped to one knee at the edge of the altar.

“Kneel.” My knees hit silk before my brain caught up. My heart slammed against my ribs. The crowd tightened around us. He circled me once, slow. Gloved fingers trailed across my shoulders, down my spine, lifted the hem of my dress just enough to show the curve of my ass to everyone watching.

"Sell yourself there for a few years, and you might just make enough to pay off the interest. Don't come looking for us again. You're bad luck." The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. Clutching his swollen, red cheek, Geoffrey curled up in the ice-cold corridor and let out a wretched, hysterical laugh. So, this was what he got in return for abandoning everything for so-called true love. Geoffrey had no idea how he managed to drag himself out of the apartment building. He wandered aimlessly through the torrential rain until a massive LED screen in the downtown square caught his eye. On the screen was me, dressed in a black haute couture gown.

"One day, you will sit in a room where someone is waiting for your nod, your hand, or just one fair word from you. When that day comes, remember the road you took to get here." Lila nodded hard and pinned the badge to her chest. When she walked out, her back was straighter than when she had come in. Sunlight came through the window and landed on the new file on my desk. It was a proposal for a fund that Northbridge would use to invest in companies founded by low-income women, immigrant women, and founders mainstream capital kept ignoring. I already had a name for it. The Grace Fund. There were still so many Grace Walkers in this world. They were trapped in their own coal towns, ledgers, cont

He takes her other hand, placing it on his shoulder, his own fingers settling gently at her waist. She doesn't know the traditional steps. I can tell by the way her shoulders hitch on the first turn, her foot catching slightly on the edge of a floorboard. But instead of letting the mistake linger, Thane intentionally stumbles over his own feet, throwing his head back with an exaggerated wince that makes Sloane burst into genuine, ringing laughter. The sound hits me like a physical blow.

“A Saint of the Moon Goddess.” The reaction was immediate. Zaia’s face drained of color. Someone inhaled sharply behind her. James stiffened, his pupils flashing gold before he forced them back. They remembered now. Or perhaps they had chosen to forget until it became inconvenient. Lady Tristan stood up so abruptly her chair scraped loudly against the floor. Her expression shifted from polite hostess to something much sharper. “The Saint,” she said quietly, then turned toward the room. Her voice hardened. “All of you—kneel.”

Lana’s Point of View “Kneel.” The words escaped my lips before I could stop them. I froze for a minute, trying to study the look on his face, wondering if he wasn’t offended because of how demeaning I sounded. I should probably apologize, and then maybe we can start over again, or we can put an end to this madness. To my surprise, a gleam crossed Christian’s gaze, and in an instant, he dropped to his knees. Still glancing up at me like I was a monument of worship.

The silence followed them home. Not the quiet kind— The heavy kind. The kind that sits in your chest… And refuses to move. Johnny closed the door behind them. The sound echoed louder than it should have. Grace walked in first. Straight. No hesitation. No looking back. She didn’t remove her shoes. Didn’t say a word. Just moved. Like if she stopped— Everything would collapse. Johnny stood there for a second. Watching her. Trying to find the right words.

His thumb lingered at her jaw. “A Queen,” he said softly, “should never kneel before anyone.” She blinked at him, heart stuttering in her chest. Then, without letting her go, he turned her slowly to face the court. “You let them kneel before you.” And they did. The silence cracked—and like a tidal wave of obedience, every soul in the courtyard—warriors, nobles, onlookers, even the stone-faced guards—dropped to their knees. Heads bowed. Spears lowered. Kaelani stood trembling—shattered, uncertain, and crowned by a fate she never even asked for.

A tear slips down her cheek "And neither does the past." Father Michael places his hand over hers. "You are Marrine." She closes her eyes. "You are not a monster." He pauses "You are not a mistake." Another tear falls. "And you are not alone." For a long moment Marrine stands there, silent. Then she leans forward and rests her head on his shoulder. Father Michael holds her as the sound of the sea swells outside the church. Far below the surface, something ancient and powerful opens its eyes. Marrine suddenly straightens.