Novel & Cerita Medieval Romance Books

The pretense of the lady was packed away with the lavender gown. For the first day, they rode in near silence, eating up the miles on the well-maintained post road that led east from the capital. The land was gentle, rolling, quilted with fields and orderly villages. By afternoon on the second day, the land began to shrug. The hills grew steeper, the farms more sparse, the forests thicker and darker. The air grew sharper, tasting of pine and wet stone. Makil dropped back to ride beside her as the road narrowed into a rocky pass between two shoulders of granite. “We’re crossing into the Marcher Lands,” he said, his voice low. “The King’s peace is thinner here.”

Roses, a white dress, the guests, the sunshine: it all felt so vivid, yet so surreal. His gaze landed on the empty spot where the bridesmaid should have been, and it all clicked why that seat was unoccupied. Natalie was gone. She was gone forever. She had taken her life. She had done that with his unborn child when she leapt from the 18th floor. It was all because he tampered with her medicine, because he dared her to prove her true love, and because of his whispered lies of forever and always. He did everything to win her heart.

He was my home. He pressed his forehead to mine, his whisper a gentle murmur of words I didn’t fully comprehend but felt completely. French words that flowed from his lips like poetry. “Mon coeur… ma vie… mon âme.” My heart… my life… my soul. Every word sent a shiver through me, melted me, convinced me of a love so strong it could conquer anything. I whispered back, brokenly, trying to match him: “I am yours. Only yours. Always.”

But I didn't get a chance to call it out when she continued . “I stumbled upon this book the other day. By mistake, obviously. I thought it was a theological study on ‘Fellowship,’ but it was actually this incredibly sappy romance story about two childhood best friends who fall in love after they made a promise to marry each other if they were still single by thirty.” She let out what sounded like a nervous, high-pitched giggle. “They were very scandalous scenes in the book, Leon,” Rose murmured in a low voice. “Their…sexual escapades were so vividly described I couldn't stop blushing, but I couldn't stop reading either.” She laughed again.

Feeling a bit tired from all the overthinking and hauling old books all morning. "I'm telling you, it will be Vivienne Skye Harper matched to Finn Yamada," Madi said, trying to cheer me up and patting my back, before standing up. "Come on, future Mrs Yamada, we have books to sell," she said, arms outstretched. I sighed loudly and let her pull me up.

“We were not to be part of this spectacle.” He and the others had been quite content to watch this ‘spectacle’ just a few moments ago. The irony of Ambrose’s words was laughable, but she kept her face blank and her internal chuckles to herself. After his squire and supposed surprise gift a week ago, Knight Ambrose grace his presence in Countess Castle, telling her to absorb the plan on stealing the codex of demon. Also referred to as the Demon's book, it was a massive tome, written thirty years ago by a priest who was said to have made a deal with the Devil to finish it.

She ran her fingers along the spines, the gold lettering cool against her skin. Drawn in by the sheer volume, she hesitantly pulled a book from the shelf, a slim volume bound in dark blue leather. The title was etched in silver: The Royal Grimoire of Sacred Oaths. She opened it, her eyes skimming the ornate calligraphy, the intricate diagrams filled with arcane symbols.

Then he kissed his wife, who answered with a sweet smile and came out like a knight of the Holy Order at the door of the salon, from darkness to light, from sadness to joy, like a true nobleman full of parental love to his scent, the heir to the titles parents, a knight, strong in his father's court or among the great ladies who were ashamed of the brilliance of this demigod, but a vulnerable spider on the field of honor, crushed in his great duels by the great trumpets of the show, amazed by the swords that fluttering in flashes and a baltag like a mad cyclops hitting his chest, so well ends a volume of romantic stories in blood and death, but only now reveal the actors and the beautiful ar

I can’t help smiling as I watch Luther looking around the room in confusion. The four-poster bed, filled with cushions, the dark wood dresser, and the thick shagpile rug in front of the open fire, mean nothing to my mate. To me, they represent comfort, and Goddess knows I’ve never had that. “To you, it’s just a bedroom,” I shrug, still looking around the room. It’s stunning, especially with the wall lights shining as they flicker from the candles within. The room is modern yet looks somewhat medieval at the same time.

Caitlin summoned her knowledge of Latin, and knew that translated to: Three Books of Charms, Spells and Sorceries. Intrigued, she turned the cover, and saw that it was all in Latin. Luckily, her Latin was still good enough for her to translate in her head. The long title page read: “In which all the species and causes of spells are described and explained with the Philosophers and Theologians. With the ways to fight the illusions of Demons, and the refutation of the causes behind the power of Witchcraft. 1589. Venice.” Caitlin dove into the book, scanning through, turning the pages as fast as she could, looking for any mention of vampires, of how to heal or cure one, how to bring one back to