Prince Of Death's Throne 소설 & 이야기

On both sides of the aisle, dozens of the family's elite assassins knelt on one knee with their heads lowered in respect. I had changed into a dark crimson couture gown and sat lazily against a leather sofa chair, swirling a glass of red wine in my hand. The man seated across from me reached over and gently rubbed my head. Rossi Nostra. Heir to the Nostra family. The eldest son of the Don. My brother. "Welcome home, Principessa." I gazed quietly at the endless sea of clouds outside the window. "Brother." My voice was soft. "I want everyone involved in hurting my child... dead."

His deep voice sends shivers across my skin, and I curse myself for the reaction. “Yes, what of her? Don’t you keep some no claims as slaves. They are useful,” Alpha Bishop snaps, and I slide a plate in front of the alpha female before moving to serve my alpha. “Speak to me like that again and I will end this talk now by ripping your tongue out. My brother will be here shortly, and this is a fair warning that he won’t be spoken to that way,” the male smoothly replies and there is a confidence in his voice that he means every single word. And threat.

⸻ THE THRONE ROOM It wasn’t a room. It was a cavern that stretched beyond sight, lit by rivers of fire that ran along the walls like veins of molten gold. Floating platforms of obsidian drifted lazily in the air. Pillars of bone spiraled upward, disappearing into darkness. And in the center— A throne of shimmering black stone, edged with smoke that curled upward and vanished. It was both beautiful and terrifying. Alive yet ancient. Calling me and warning me at the same time. “The throne of the underworld,” Malik said quietly. “No demon has sat here in thousands of years. It rejects all who touch it. But I think…”

he swears. "I understand. I will come with you to hear the what lies the Prince has come up with," I reply He nods and I follow him back to the throne room of my mates that he now calls his. He welcomes me to sit on Alcott's throne. I gladly take the seat that still has the lulling smell of my mates. Prince Ethan is dragged in immediately after Ademon has settled in Parish's guilded seat once again. Ademon's warlocks and some curious royals enter the room behind the soldiers.

The crown hits the marble floor with a sharp clang just before my father’s body does. The hall erupts in screams. I want to shout, to rush over to him, but my voice sticks in my throat. All I can do is watch the blood pool beneath his throne, creeping toward me. The soldiers kneel, but not for the king—for her. Queen Lunice, my grandmother. “Long live the Queen,” they chant, their voices hollow and obedient. Her eyes meet mine. Those dark, ancient, endless eyes hold me in place across the years. “No male heir shall survive,” she whispers. “The curse has already begun.”

The "Techno-Organic" London was still steaming from its rebirth, the violet vines pulsing like veins against the cold obsidian of the new towers. Elian Thorne—the Prince of the Trash—stood at the center of the bridge, his new scavenger-gold armor reflecting the unnatural light of the Publisher’s Flagship hovering above.

The villainess. The plot of *The Prince's Rose* crashed over her. Prince Alexander, the golden-haired, stoic heir, destined to fall for Sophia Bellweather, the kind-hearted, orphaned daughter of a minor baron. And Lady Vivian? The Duke’s spoiled, ruthless daughter, obsessed with Alexander, engaged to him through political maneuvering. She would stop at nothing to eliminate Sophia – slander, sabotage, even attempted murder. Her actions would ultimately lead to her public disgrace, her engagement broken, her family ruined, and her exile to a desolate convent… before a mysterious, fatal "accident" befell her carriage on the journey. The readers had cheered at her downfall.

Prince Valor was now King Valor. Aynyra attended his coronation, standing beside him as he received his crown and sceptre. He had no Queen, but he had Aynyra. Aynyra stepped forwards and was blessed, receiving the band of the spiritual leader. A ceremonial sash was tied around her wrists, binding her forever to her spiritual responsibilities to the Kingdom. The sash was cut in the middle, leaving a strand hanging from each wrist. She sat on her throne beside her brother as the Priest chanted in Lystaria, followed by the court standing and applauding.