Matriarch Novels & Stories

"That's right. Layla here is the first matriarch. As far as I know, the other big four families didn't have women leading them." "Wow, that's amazing. Layla, you're great!"

The woman was a warrior princess when it came to her elder son. “Love,” he scoffed, if they did, they would’ve given you to me,” he was happy that they loved him, but that love cost him his girl. Azazel looked so broken that Athena couldn’t help feeling bad for him. His mother’s lies had affected him more than he could admit. He appeared as if he had hit rock bottom.

A middle-aged woman stood at the door dressed in a royal lace gown, there were handmade beads around her neck and wrist and her face wore an elegant makeup that complemented her hair. It was the matriarch. How could I forget her after the party the other day, the only woman who could control a crowd all by herself, yet I had been reborn with so much pain in my heart and refused to let her control me. “Good day, Matriarch!” I bowed in courtesy, but there was disgust on her face, her eyes trailed at me from head to toe with absolute disgust. Then slowly she started walking towards me. “You!” She pointed at Anna like she was a piec

"The woman in the vault—the one who called herself 'The Matriarch'—she’s not just a voice. She’s Lady Genevieve Thorne. My father’s eldest sister. The one who supposedly died in a hunting accident forty years ago." I froze, the silk of my scarf halfway around my neck. "Another ghost? Your family tree is a graveyard, Julian." "It’s a dynasty of lies," he replied, finally setting the weapon down and turning to face me. The shadows of the cabin played across the hard planes of his face, making him look every bit the Thorne he was trying to outrun. "She’s the one who funded your father’s initial research. She didn't want a neural-link for medicine; she wanted a hi

There were no guards with rifles here; there were only cameras that followed them with the silent, predatory gaze of a creator watching its creation. A woman waited for them at the end of the corridor. She was dressed in a suit of charcoal silk, her hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to sharpen the planes of her face. She was the one who had pulled them from the harbor—The Matriarch of the Deep, a figure whispered about in the highest circles of the Trust as the keeper of the "Primary Ledger." "Welcome to the Womb," she said. Her voice didn't echo; the heavy air seemed to swallow it whole. "You’ve spent your lives fighting for the surface. It’s time you saw

"You made a fake archive?" The Matriarch smiled. A terrifying smile. "Of course." Because everything made sense. That's why she couldn't sfeelan ounce of fear or panic in them. They planned this ahead, what else would Cinthye expect from her mother? She's always like that. Prepared ten steps ahead despite in the shadows. She had planned for betrayal years ago. Maybe decades of experience have taught her enough. Her mother was always like that and maybe that's why she was more suited to become an actress.

Kesi, the healer, had approached her, bowing deeply before handing her a scroll sealed with pale green wax. "The Matriarch requests your presence in the Sun-Chamber, Earth-Breaker," Kesi had whispered, her amber eyes wide with reverence. "She wishes to speak with you alone." Now, Mwajuma stood before the colossal, sweeping doors of the Matriarch’s inner sanctum at the very apex of the Mother-Tree. The doors were carved from living wood, depicting a beautiful, intricate mural of women lifting the sun into the sky while chaining beasts in the roots below.

At the arc's center sat a woman whose age Elena found impossible to guess, silver-haired but unlined, radiating an authority that reminded Elena, disconcertingly, of the prophecy elder who'd first read the Oracle's words at the Hollow Bridge two years before. "I am Matriarch Cyrene," the woman said, her voice carrying easily to the chamber's far corners without any evident effort. "I have led this council for the better part of a century, and I confess, Lady Ashgrove, Lord Ashgrove, I did not expect to live to see this particular meeting occur." "We're grateful for the welcome," Damon said, careful and formal, the particular diplomatic register Elena had watch

"What does this have to do with me? I didn't personally kill Mrs. Hughes Senior. How can you pin her death on me? Besides, you're the one who didn't explain things clearly from the start, which is why Martin didn't know what was happening. Isn't this all your fault? "If you'd just told him the whole story from the beginning, would any of this have happened? And yes, I'm sad that Mrs. Hughes Senior died too, but how can dead people be more important than the living? You should stop being so upset. It's not like Mrs. Hughes Senior was actually your real mother anyway."

Once it cleared though, Marcus's reassuring smile gave me the strength I needed to complete the impossibly long walk. I reached the thrones, and Alpha Damarus stepped forward, holding a white cloth. He stared down at where I stood at the base of the few stone steps that led to the platforms the thrones sat on. "Alexandra, daughter of Alpha Mattias, leader of the Moonridge Pack. Today you stand before my son, Alpha Marcus, heir to the Ashclaw legacy, and swear to remain by his side through his reign and beyond it. Do you swear to follow this oath and face the consequence of breaking it."