Red Blood Throne Novels & Stories

“Is that what this has all been about? You disrupted my wedding and kidnapped me, bringing me here so you could feel important and rub it in my face that you killed my family.” Sergio didn’t speak. “You let me believe I was nothing. Then you chained me to your side, gave me knives, maps, riddles... like I was a pawn in some twisted game.” He finally stepped forward. “You are simply here as payment for a debt owed to my family... You were never a pawn I chose.” “Then what am I?” she asked bitterly. He looked at her sadly. “You're the queen that was never meant to rise.” ************************************************** Suddenly, the manor’s alarm pierced the quiet.

The fear is so palpable that it feels like you could cut it with a knife. I’m turned to face a vampire on a throne. Again, it feels so cliché that if I wasn’t disgusted by what is going on around me, I’d laugh. The throne is metal the color of pewter covered in a blood red cushioning across the back, seat and arm rests. I can’t tell how tall the vampire is, I’m assuming he’s the prince, but the chair back sits about six inches higher than his head.

AMARA The cathedral is quiet tonight. Too quiet for a kingdom built on blood. Rain presses against the stained-glass windows, streaking through the painted faces of long-dead saints. Their halos fracture into red and gold light across the marble floor, falling over the throne where I sit — the throne I swore I’d never need. But power has a way of forcing its return. They whisper now when I enter a room. The Queen who burned her own crown just to forge another in its ashes.

"Cressen had wisdom." "I trusted in his wisdom and your wiles, and what did they avail me, smuggler? The storm lords sent you packing. I went to them a beggar and they laughed at me. Well, there will be no more begging, and no more laughing either. The Iron Throne is mine by rights, but how am I to take it? There are four kings in the realm, and three of them have more men and more gold than I do. I have ships . . . and I have her. The red woman. Half my knights are afraid even to say her name, did you know? If she can do nothing else, a sorceress who can inspire such dread in grown men is not to be despised. A frightened man is a beaten man. And perhaps she can do more. I mean to find out.

Above them was a body of red water, flowing, suspended in the air, and taking the place of a sky. The light here had a red glow, instead of the golden glow of torches back in Ignas. There were different guards stationed at either side of the aisle, where Belladonna and, hopefully, Alaris, were. The throne was made of skeletons, that she almost missed the perso--creature sitting on them. His skin was white, hugging his bones a little too tightly, making his fingers look excessively long as he brushed a digit over his lips. His crown of bones was tipped on his head, over the blue flames that took place of his hair, and his eyes blazed blue. No pupils, just slant lines, filled with sharp blue s

Nothing could compare to its beauty; it was a masterpiece, its crimson surface shimmering like blood in the sunlight pouring through the high windows. Standing before the crimson throne was a young woman, her fiery hair cascading like a waterfall of flames over her shoulders. Pyra, soon to be crowned Rhaella FireHeart, radiated an aura of strength and regality as she watched the crowd with her head raised high. Her purple gown hugged her growing belly, a testament to the next generation of FireHeart blood. Despite her delicate condition, she stood upright, exuding an unshakeable confidence and undeniable power.

“If you don’t show, they’ll see it as weakness.” “And if I do show?” “Then you make a statement. That you’re powerful, allied with Blackthorn, and not to be trifled with.” He pulled me close. “I’ll be with you every step.” “This is getting complicated.” “It was always going to be complicated. You’re royalty, Aria. People are going to have opinions about that.” His hand cupped my face. “But you’re not alone. You have me. You have Blackthorn. And apparently, we’re about to have Mountain Ridge too.”

” Darius explained as everyone stared at me in shock and dread or to be specific, my hands on the throne arm. Seeing that I saw Darius get burnt, I knew they weren’t bluffing in the least. But how come I was touching it easily and painlessly? Was it because I was the Blueblood? I highly doubted that. I stared at the throne and circled it to come to the front before sitting. The throne seemed the welcome me and loosened up for me to relax. They gasped again and moved backward, murmuring. “What is this omen?” “Am I seeing correctly??”

Tauric’s men were far and few between the closer they came to a giant room towards the far end of the castle. It looked to be a throne room as they burst into the room, a stone dais at the end with a red rug underneath a massive iron throne with the back in the shape of open dragon wings. The throne itself was intimidating and black. Seated upon it was a lean blond man with a glint in his eyes. Armed guards rushed the group as they approached.

I have feelings to consider, to understand and to feel that I just waited for someone that I deserve their love and deserves mine. I just bumped into someone who's fine-looking, he's named Articus Lawson. My future husband, the one that I am looking for. A tall guy with high regard to everyone. You kissed my forehead while laying down at your limb, you're holding a red thread and you tied it to our pinky fingers and asked, " You know this?" I looked at your dazzling eyes but I have no clue what it was for. " It is the Red ​Thread of Fate". I just closed my eyes. It was the last that I saw you and I couldn't ever open my eyes again. My last tears touched you, hope in our next life I can abut