Locke The Cruel Prince Novels & Stories

Duke Rowan Castaña decided just to be his mistress's knight until he drew his last breaths. TEN LOCKS attached to the double doors of Prince Cory's prison cell. The warden of the capital's prison cell looked at her dubiously as Tori gripped the parasol's handle, her red eyes flaming with anger as the loyalist to the first prince refused to meet her eyes when she requested to see the second prince. "I won't ask again. Open this door." The threat laced upon in her voice made the royal knight react by stepping forward to her in an imposing manner that ticked Tori off.

he saw his castle is burning and explode everything is disappeared. just a few pieces of wood and wall left not a single person is alive even their dead body is not there. looking that incident make prince depressed and he broke down he comes to his knees with dead eyes, tears are flowing like a river. his brain his blackout owl:- are you alright master prince get back to his sense he starts punching the ground and cries like a baby prince:- he what just happened. please tell me my family is safe. where is my mom, father and sister don't tell me they are dead

the Queen raged. Lu boldly stood up, he sent a glare to the girl and was swearing under his breath. “Maybe he’s creating a pack of his own for defense” the dragon prince said. Lu calmed down on hearing his calm voice. His sister turned to her brother with a disgusted look, “Is he an Alpha? Only Alpha’s have right to create a pack? Or are you a nut job too?”. The Prince ignored her and stood up, “Good job, Sir Lu. Now we know his company, we just have to find a way to catch them alone. Set a trap. Inform me directly” he marched out of the court.

Fooling the queen is a graven offense, but looking me in the eye and lying to me is treason". His eyes bore deeper into hers. "I will have them burn you alive". Carolyn gasped, losing her breath. "Or have you hanged..." Her wide bright blue eyes grew wet in seconds, "P-P-Please... I-I didn't...I-I'm sorry, I-I was going to say the truth but Sco...". Just as she was about to open her mouth to speak, the knock on the doors interrupted them as they slid open exposing maids rolling trays with the Royal butler directly behind them.

growled the seemingly embittered Alain. Casimir Lennox Aldrich Duchene, the heir apparent and charming noble, eldest son of Alana Duchene and the late Sebastian Duchene, was the golden prince as it were of the family and often quite mischievous. He'd been only two years older than his baby brother Alain but a troublemaker from the very beginning. His teacher believed him to be a terror for years but respected his status as the son of a prominent figure in politics. He was known for wild and crazed stunts such as this and events that got his younger brother caught in the crossfire. As charming as he was seductive, the tall handsome blond lad attracted attention from women of all ages but bedd

He could feel it, the cruel prince was up to one of his games again and he was going to drag him into it. Issac stood ramrod his hands behind him, "Of course! I have to rescue the crown prince!" "Good. You pick up faster than I thought." Aldric grinned, his white sharp teeth making him look more fiendish than he was supposed to look. It took everything in Isaac not to run away when the cruel prince approached him till they were standing face to face. "Now, this is what you are going to do…."

Still, silence. Arden leaned back slightly, arms folding loosely, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, voice flat, almost bored, but the words landed with force. “I would never sacrifice for the land,” Arden said. “So you better start finding other solutions.” The room erupted again. Shock. Outrage. Fear. “How can you say that?” “You are a prince!” “You are Eldenwald!” Arden’s gaze remained cold. The king’s face tightened further, pain flickering across his features like the headache had sharpened into something worse.

Then, through the trees, a column of riders appeared—black silhouettes against the crimson light. The villagers poured into the square, whispering prayers. At the front rode a man who seemed carved from shadow itself. His armor was etched with runes that pulsed faintly red, and a long cloak flowed behind him like smoke. His face was half hidden by a hood, but his eyes caught the moonlight—crimson, cold, and alive. “The Dark Prince,” someone breathed. “He’s real.” The man dismounted, the air itself seeming to bow away from him. His gaze swept the crowd. “By order of the Crown,” he said, voice low but carrying. “We seek the girl born under the Blood Moon.”