Las Cadenas Del Rey Novels & Stories

Valen's POV Darian unfolded the thick parchment completely, holding it flat between his hands so we could both read the neat, hurried script. My chest tightened as my eyes scanned down the page, recognizing Maddox’s handwriting instantly. To His Majesty, King Valen, I hope this letter finds you in good health and that your relations with the Southern King are going smoothly. I must ask, your majesty, when exactly are you planning your return to the palace? The situation here has deteriorated rapidly since your departure.

He watched her fight the chains like a caged storm, fury radiating off her in sharp little bursts. The cold stone behind her did nothing to cool the fire in her eyes—eyes that promised death even as her body was bound, helpless before him. Perfect. Deadly. Infuriating. Dante exhaled slowly, letting the tension coil beneath his skin like a low hum. “You know,” he said quietly, almost conversational, “I could break most captives in under ten minutes.”

It is not okay to treat everyone else as if they are beneath you. "I do not expect anything of you. There is a curse on the royal line. You have not heard of it because we never speak of it. It states that we remain celibate until we find the one destined for us. The curse is also part blessing as it keeps us from having bastard children everywhere. It is also a curse as we cannot marry for political gain. We can only marry for the love of the one that is meant to be ours." He says giving me a decent smile.

" He said. "But surely i know there are also a lot of descendants from that Emperor or whatever. Why not choose from them? " "You have the perfect DNA resembling those from The great Emperor from the Tang dynasty. You are the perfect heir and they need you to bring back monarchy in this country. " "How did you know i have the perfect DNA resembling his? " "Oh! I snuck into your room and I took your tootbrush for DNA testing. " He explained. I frowned. "That's why my brush went missing! it's you! And why do you people even want to bring back the monarch? I've read from books that the monarchy isn't a very good experience for the people. "

The gashed heads, slit throats, and the pungent smell of open bodies held the picture of a medieval killing spree. _'I believe there is a devil....his name is Ruslan.'_ Salvatore felt a shiver run up his spine; Sara had known. She knew what she was talking about. Wherever he stepped, he felt he was waddling in blood; it was everywhere, on the walls, the drums that served as a roadblock, all thanks to Adler thinking his new enemy would seek the backdoor out of Campania. As always, he was accurate, except this time, it came at a price, And it proved something; Ruslan had said he was unstoppable, a claim he was slowly validating.

"That's why I'm paying you and not doing it myself." "Counselor." Delia's voice had gone flat and careful. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to get somebody killed." I watched the black water. I thought about the pages I was not sending, the ones with a small pressed insignia in the corner of the paper stock, a crown, the St. James mark my father had used out of habit or fear or some horrible loyalty, the pages that would have hung a different king. I'd photographed every page in the tower and sat up three nights sorting them the way a surgeon sorts tissue: this stays, this goes, this touches Malik and therefore burns. I had built a knife that cut in exactly one direction.

Reyna As the jet’s engines muted down, I cautiously step onto the metal staircase, instantly feeling the temperature drop. The cold air at high altitude nips at my face, a contrast to the cosy and luxurious atmosphere inside the plane with its soft leather seats and champagne. I can’t resist looking out into the distance, where Cassian’s castle stands tall. “Welcome to my kingdom, Reyna,” Cassian says proudly from behind me, his voice resonating with pride. The sight in front of me takes my breath away. It’s a fortress that stretches across the valley like a metallic creature. There is nothing inviting about it. It stands cold and resolute; a symbol of the warfare that thrives in this kingdo

Said the Emperor. Russel, the third Prince, expected more praise from the Emperor but that was all that was given to him. He was disappointed. 'Shouldn't establishing a connection with the Ronnenberg Family can help me take the title of crown Prince?!' He was gritting his teeth at the back of his mind.

He could bend a man’s doubt until it broke. “North,” he ordered. The sound of helicopters rose like thunder. Men called, armor clinked, the flight began. They had not flown far when a call came from one of his men. “My lord!” the scout gasped. “Forgive the speed. News has come. Calder moves. He plans war. He has taken Reina from the hospital. He has found out the informer who told King Cassius. He moved her. He has brought her away from where she was weak. The palace tightens its guards. They are braced.”

The line known to have ended with the death of the very Reive. Reive didn’t even flinch. “Your majesty,” he began, not even condescending to incline his head and smooth the king’s indignation in some way, “I’m assuming you weren’t intending to insult me in the presence of your bride and my beautiful fiancée, and your anger is only the result of your ignorance. However, everything that I said is true. I’m the last and the only heir of Reive Eridanus Castro-Firel, called the Undead King.”