Masked Royal Novels & Stories

"Your Majesty, I heard there's a magical healer living in the west. He is said to be the only healer who can make cure for any kind if poison. Only that, he's hard to find." "I will go find him, Father," Demetri said with overflowing determination to cure his mother. "I will go too," Prince David seconded. "And so am I," Prince Martin said. "I will go as well. The magical healer is said to have a dragon as his guardian. It was also said that once you go inside his cave, you'll never make it out alive. I want to see if that's really true, and of course, for Aunt's cure." Prince David smirked.

The massive double doors of the great hall swung open with a heavy echo. The murmurs died instantly. Maya entered with steady, measured steps, holding her head high with an imperial dignity that took my generals’ breath away. She did not wear the tattered black silk from the night before; she wore one of my heavy arctic wolf military cloaks draped over her shoulders, and the silver medallion of her mother glowed with incandescent purity against her curvy chest. But what made my three divisions tense was the base of her cinnamon neck: the mark of my Alpha fangs shone with a golden and silver hue—a fresh wound that sealed her absolute right to the throne of the North.

And that was worse. The sanctuary shuddered. A deep vibration ran through the stone. Kael reacted instantly. “We’re not alone,” Tanya turned sharply. Her mother’s eyes widened slightly. “No…” Another tremor. Then a sound. Metal. Boots. Movement. Tanya stood fast. “What is that?” Kael’s voice dropped dangerously low. “Elite formation.” A pause. Then, colder: “Royal crest.” Tanya’s blood went still. “No one knows we’re here,” her mother whispered. Kael’s eyes darkened. “Someone does.” The chamber doors exploded inward. The stone shattered. Light poured in. And armed warriors entered in perfect formation black armor engraved with the unmistakable symbol of the royal house.

CAMILLA RYDER The Lamborghini purred away as I stepped onto the red carpet laid before the towering glass doors of the grand opening venue. My eyes instantly caught the massive banner above — Liam’s face looming on it, bold and arrogantly posed like some kind of messiah to the business world.

Nuzzled against her white hair. Raven laughed—bright, audible, delighted. “He knows me,” she whispered. “Even like this.” Victoria stepped closer. Reached up to stroke Muninn’s glossy feathers. “He always knew you,” she said. “Crows remember. And he chose you long before the fangs.” Muninn cawed once—soft, approving—then launched himself back to the windowsill to preen. The door opened. The royal scribe entered—parchment and quill already in hand—followed by two attendants carrying stacks of black vellum invitations, each embossed with the obsidian rose of Valros in ruby wax.

't seem very excited about the choice. Cameron is there too, to her mother's left, with a face like an emotionally charged storm cloud. The younger brother isn't as good as Nathan or Thomas at hiding his feelings. ______________ The rite of the Royal Trials is always a lucky event, representing the future of our great kingdom and the links that keep us strongly connected in the face of enemies - says the king addressing the crowd, who still don't see me in the corner of the hall. - But, as you saw, these challenges brought us more than just the future queen. He turns to his wife, who clasps her hand in his with a devout smile. - We all remember our bright hope against the darkness of war, ou

Mikaela said as she put on a long coat and added, "I am leaving now. I might not come tonight." Stacy nodded as Mikaela left and she went to have a shower. Stacy was reading her book when her phone rang. She saw it was Mikaela. She picked it up. "Hey." "Stacy, I know it is your resting time but can you please help me? It's urgent!" Mikaela's voice was breathless as if she was running a marathon. "Okay. What is it?" "I forgot the pass in my drawer and it might take me some time to go and get it. Can you come to the royal suite, Court Royal?"

“I haven’t seen anything or anyone kids, now you 7 need to leave because you aren’t allowed back here." “-The Masked Queen is a brand built by the Slim-Jim agency and from my sources, the image alone costs twenty million dollars, and with L.K being the representative it’s ten million dollars on the twenty million. That’s a lot of money to lose people!” Her loud exclamation can be heard through the speakers so I cover it in panic. “Hearing that you were able to get rights over your brand makes me curious how you did it, Slim-Jim isn’t an agency that would like to lose that much money without putting up a damn hard fight. The world is curious L.K, how the hell did you do it?”

She followed him inside, looking around surreptitiously and trying not to ogle the blatant display of wealth. “Bennet, where are you, man?” asked Tucker. “In here,” called a deep voice with a crisp accent. It wasn’t quite English-sounding, but similar. From the research she’d done before coming to Montrovia, she knew the small island country had been founded when Mad George the Third banished his ill-liked distant relation there and ordered him imprisoned. At some point, the imprisonment had turned to a governorship during the Regent’s reign, and Montrovia had been an independent monarchy for the last hundred-plus years after a brief, nearly bloodless war with England. Their rich oil deposit

It was nice to see once a while, since she was usually the one running the show since he fell ill. “All I was saying is that you should tell Marco he should repeat his childhood laws more often,” Magdalena said, faking an innocent voice. “It's very important.” “What in the hell is she talking about?” Marco asked. “The Law of Princely Marriage,” Carlo said softly. “It states that a prince or princess cannot marry someone who is not of royal blood.” Marco's stomach dropped. “What are you talking about? I can marry whomever I choose.” Magdalena leaned close and said, “No, Marco, you can't. It would be against the law.”