Royal Cut Novels & Stories

If found guilty the royalty has all the right to put the life of the offender to an end. Uh-huh that was never in her plans. Never. She just wanted a simple and no drama kind of life but ever since she was born her life has been filled with scandals. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe nor blink. She was terrified to an extent of literally shaking. The bowel in her hands was threatening to fall over if she didn’t stop. Her eyes were fixed on the white substance on the purple cloak of a the royal Prince. Not just any Prince. He was known by many disturbing names.

The Royal Rose was one of the most exclusive tea rooms in the city, a place where the wealthy and the connected gathered to see and be seen. The décor was all pale pink and gold leaf, with crystal chandeliers and fresh roses on every table. The clientele was almost entirely female socialites and heiresses and the wives of powerful men.

She asked quickly trying to change the topic. "No you can't do this kind of work I am doing." Royal responded. "And why is that?" Ariel demanded. "Your hands." Royal responded by gesturing with his head towards her hands. Staring at her hands and stared back at him. "Nothing is wrong with my hands Royal." Ariel said. "I did not say something is wrong with your hands but your hands look smooth with no cut which means you haven't done this work before, am I right?" Royal asked, smiling.

He sighs and returns to his seat. The mightiest Royals starts to grow anxious as no one had anticipated that any of the younger princes would be the heir to the crown so less gifts were sent to them. Prince Callum appears to think he got what it takes as he waves enthusiastically to the crowd. He literally jumps up the stairs to get to the threshold but cautiously punctures a very small wound on his palm that he spends a lot of time trying to squeeze a drop of blood out of. He patiently waits for the jewel to change it's red light until the audience becomes impatient.

It was the Day of the Ritual, a tradition for every ruler of my bloodline to prove they are the strongest soul in the land. ​I ran a slow, casual hand through my hair. It was long and as white as a fresh snowfall, a shining symbol of my pure, royal blood. I knew I looked magnificent. I wore a simple silver tunic that was thin enough to show the muscle beneath, catching the rays of the sun like a mirror. "Our king is so beautiful!" "Asher is the strongest!" "He is prettier than all my daughters combined." I heard some of their talks ​The noise was like a physical wall of sound. Thousands and thousands of my subjects sat on the stone benches that rose so high they seemed to touch the clouds.

't seem very excited about the choice. Cameron is there too, to her mother's left, with a face like an emotionally charged storm cloud. The younger brother isn't as good as Nathan or Thomas at hiding his feelings. ______________ The rite of the Royal Trials is always a lucky event, representing the future of our great kingdom and the links that keep us strongly connected in the face of enemies - says the king addressing the crowd, who still don't see me in the corner of the hall. - But, as you saw, these challenges brought us more than just the future queen. He turns to his wife, who clasps her hand in his with a devout smile. - We all remember our bright hope against the darkness of war, ou

The Royal’s Oath is a sacred magical vow exclusive to the Were royal bloodline, binding the speaker to their word with an unbreakable force. Once sworn, the Oath manifests as a sigil—glowing silver script that appears on the royal’s skin and fades once the promise is fulfilled. It is a mark of power, trust, and absolute authority. It was once a power that dates back to the first Were kings, who wielded it to command loyalty from their subjects and assure them that they are worthy of their loyalty and reverence.

I don’t know exactly what the story is but the hatred has been passed from generation to generation. Even to date, the western wolves would do anything to gain favors and recognition from the royals and a tribute is given to the king whenever the occasion calls for it. About a week ago, the former king passed on and was laid to rest almost immediately. However, a ceremony was to be conducted after seven days which is today and all packs under the western wolves are giving out some of their pack members; well more like servants from their pack to the royals as a form of tribute to the late king. It is plain tradition and there’s no escaping it.

He was not even conscious. This woman was threatening my right hand. I was mad for what she did to him. “What might that be?” asked one of the council. “That, my dear elder is that in exchange for the throne, I’m willing to give something, a treasure I hold and that all vampires wished to own, and it’s not the amulet,” Rose said, smirking. “And what might the Queen of Rogues hold that we royal vampires would desire?” an elder said arrogantly. “The Holy Red Cross,” Rose said.

She made her way back to the palace leaving me alone. I think I need to take a bigger step to lure her. I took out my phone from my pocket to call my secretary, Jeffry. I dialed his phone number and he answered my call right away. "Yes, Your Highness. Do you need anything?" "I want you to buy 1000 roses and I want you to make a reservation on the best jewelry store tomorrow morning. I want to pick up a ring for my.. future-wife." I smirked imagining my secret plan for her tomorrow.