Maeve Throne Of Glass Novels & Stories

But before he could return back to the cold, brooding Zeus Valente, she pulled him towards her. "A queen? But I don't have a crown." She frowned. He saw those blue eyes, sharp and soft, broken yet determined. He reminisced the way she walked, the way she spoke. "True queen doesn't need a crown. Rather it's the throne that needs her." He looked at her. Astraea was different yet so same. He knew their history will repeat itself. He knew that like always he would end up being wounded and broken. But then again, when was he able to restrain himself? When was he able to force himself to break her spell?

Being a true blood meant the young alpha was not only stronger, he was faster more articulate with heightened sense, and healed faster than anyone else and by the age of 20, the young true blood excelled and was granted the title General. Currently, Daniel was in his room shrouded in an eerie silence, only the soft sound of chirping crickets could be heard. Daniel had his eyes fixed on a distant point as he let out a deep sigh. His chest rose and fell with the slow, frustrated breath, his shoulders sagging slightly under the weight of his own annoyance. He rubbed his temples, as he felt the tension build up in his head. Who was that lady? Why did she have such a powerful effect on him? He co

“My brother likes his privacy. He requests your presence, Minerva.” Standing alone, Minerva's lips curled into a smile as she stepped into the huge throne room. The red carpet which was usually placed at the middle of the room, leading from the throne to the door was now replaced with a black one. The throne, decorated in black while the walls were painted white. From where she was standing, Minerva felt the aura coming from the throne which was carved out of Oak tree. Sitting on a dais, the rich crimson black velvety cushion seems to pulse with strength. “Miss Castiel, this way,” Mr Gael said and Minerva's eyes almost popped out. Recalling that the man who gave her the registration paper wa

Zaria’s POV Vampire’s realm was nothing modern; it was like I stepped into the Renaissance era. The torches lit the castle as we walked through the marble hallways. Everything felt antique, like time stood still. The man on the throne was pale but still very handsome; time froze him, maybe in his forties. Father, Noctis said, bowing to him, “I want you to meet Zaria. Then he turned to me. "Zaria, this is King Bavar, my father."

I'd have never seen myself making a timetable for sex with someone I never thought I'd be intimate with… especially not her. “How far have you gone with the books?” I asked, and she shrugged, reaching past me for the book. She covered my face with her boobs while reaching for the book, and I instantly lost it. I licked the rose between the two of them, feeling my cock harden. “Oh, I'm sorry.” She said, settling back into the bed. “It's fine.” I responded, watching her open the book, covering her body. “Well, Estelle and Maleki are kind of having a battle in the Queen's head for dominance.” Hyacinth said, and I slowly grabbed her thigh. “Although she clearly likes Estelle more, she's conflict

Her daintiness is a front, a cover for the beast that writhes beneath. She’s wearing a mask, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. I’ve seen them before–twice now–in person. The first time, she spilled boiling hot tea all over my stomach. The second, she’d been trying to hide herself in that grimy booth in that even grimier diner in Veiled Valley. Each time, those eyes gave her away. They’re the purest blue-green, like polished sea-glass plucked from crystalline, sparkling sand on a far off beach. Princess Maeve–soon to be Queen Maeve of Eastonia–turns her head ever so slightly, revealing the diadem resting on the top of her head, her hair woven through it to keep it place.

My head spun trying to track our route. Finally, we entered the throne room. It was vast and terrible. The ceiling showed the cosmos, actual stars wheeling overhead. The floor was polished black glass that reflected everything except us, as if we didn't truly exist here. And on the throne made of living starlight sat Queen Maeve. She was beautiful the way a blade is beautiful, perfect and deadly and cold. Her skin shimmered with iridescent light. Her eyes were completely silver, no pupils, just swirling mercury. Power radiated from her in waves that made my bones ache.

The only sound left is the hiss of the parasite still smashing itself against the glass tube, craving the blood that will soon be destroyed forever. “The choice is yours, Princess,” I press emotionlessly. “You can keep your godlike power, reclaim your throne as the strongest Queen, and allow this continent to remain infected by a plague endlessly searching for you. Or… you can surrender your power, become a weak woman forced to hide behind your Sword Bearer’s back, and save this world from a parasite apocalypse.” Maeve says nothing. Slowly, she lowers her head. Her eyes lock onto her own trembling hands. The black shadows that usually slither between her fingers now look like a curse ready t