Royal Crowns Novels & Stories

The crowns were beautiful; they were the same; there was no difference between the crowns. The crowns were also unique; everyone’s crown was either gold or silver, but this one was gold with rubies, emeralds, and lovely-looking gemstones on it. The crown was elegant and powerful. Jane has never done this for anyone; does she have a personal connection with any of them? Nobody knows her family or background; they just all know she is a witch and the leader of the pillars.

I scrolled down and started reading the article. 'A curious announcement from the royal house of Medora, a kingdom north of Scotland. The king announced today that a contest will be held to find the crown prince a wife. Medora is known to be secluded, with not much news coming in and out of the country. They announced a test will be put online for whoever has any interest in becoming a queen. It does not matter what your nationality is, as long as you are above eighteen years old.'

Damon drifts toward center ice and stops at the logo. I follow. For a moment, we stand where the game began. Where so much between us almost ended. “Funny,” he says. “All that fighting over who gets the crown.” “And?” He looks at me fully. “There was only ever one.” The words hang there. Not competitive. Not sharp. Certain. Only one crown. And it doesn’t belong to one king. The arena lights dim slightly as the crew prepares to clean up. I feel his hand brush mine. Not by accident.

“Princess Deloris, will you uphold the customs and duties of the crown?” I nod my head. “I will.” The same voice booms again and snaps me yet again to attention. “Princess Deloris, do you accept the crown?” Again, I nod. “I do.” A couple of clergy step forward. One puts the crown on my head, while the other places the royal golden egg with my family’s crest in my hand. My eyelids again dip, but a slight pain in my shoulder has me whipping my eyelids wide open again.

Lila tiptoed just to clip the veil on Emery's braided, black hair to secure it because the soon-to-be crowned queen was rather taller than the average height. She, then, whispered, “Your Highness, a lady must learn to be patient.” The soon-to-be queen rolled her eyes at her statement. When the horn was blown, Emery walked with careful steps on the aisle that led to the king's side. She minded every step she made because her burning red robes reached the floor and if she stepped on it, she will surely become the laughing stock of the palace. At the end of the aisle was the throne made of gold. Its sides were carved with wolves—the predators that best represent the current king.

“You? The Queen was high and mighty that this kingdom belongs to you but by the looks of it, it seems the fourth prince is wealthier than you. She promised that silver, gold, diamond and fabric of silk and wool will be mine! Above all the favor to sit upon the throne as future Queen but look at me! I look nothing like future Queen to be. Nothing!” Heat immediately climbed up Klaus ’s neck to his cheek. He felt dazed by her requests, perhaps he should tell her the truth that until he ascend the throne and he has a son he is entitled only a small portion of his father’s wealth. His fingers balled into fists, pride forcing him to man up and prove himself to his wife. That son of a mistress was

“Two days ago, Alexander personally took her to a private jeweler. Measurements, design consultations—he stayed the entire time.” My heart clenched. “There’s more,” Ethan continued. “And it gets worse.” “I accessed her private cloud. Password was Alexander’s birthday.” Inside were photos. Hundreds of them. I opened the file he sent. The album was titled: My Knight. The most recent post was dated two days ago. He said this crown belongs only to me. Just like him. Next week’s family dinner—he promised to give me a name. The image showed an exquisite bridal crown— diamonds and sapphires set in a constellation pattern.

The steps of the hustling horses send fine tremors on the bridge crossing the eastern borders. Riding upon these horses are the men of valor. They are carrying the banners of gold, silk, and saffron which are the prestige of Clapestris. King Rashal led the royal team, and they are marching at a heightening pace to reach the palace. The central gate welcomes the Royal Force. The noise is a sound of clamor and celebration combined. The families are reunited with their soldier relatives. Others bereave for the death of their sons whom they likened to torches no more flaring.

My hand was looped through Christian’s arm, and his steady presence was the only thing keeping me grounded as the double doors slowly creaked open. The sight before me took my breath away—the hall was illuminated by soft, golden lights reflecting off the high ceilings. The decorations were nothing short of grand, with elegant tapestries and rich emeralds and golds lining the walls. Christian had truly outdone himself. My gaze swept across the room, seeing the sea of pack members and allies standing beneath us, waiting, their heads turned toward the staircase. Dominic’s booming voice echoed across the hall, his words carrying the weight of ceremony and honor. “Please welcome Royal Beta Christ

The council chamber smelled of smoke and polished wood. Candles burned in tall brass holders along the walls, their light reflecting off the gilded edges of the maps spread across the table. The city of Valoria lay in miniature there, every district rendered in ink and precision, the heart of the kingdom marked by the symbol of the crown. Adrian sat at the head of the table, but he did not feel like its master. His fingers drummed against the wood while the nobles murmured around him, their voices a tangle of fear and calculation.