Servant To The Crown Novels & Stories

His sin of omission. He couldn’t allow that. The chapel door was heavy oak, centuries old, and it swung open with the kind of authority that made the message clear: I am important. I belong in spaces others don’t. The palace corridors were empty at this hour. The servants who would normally be moving through them were asleep, and the guards who patrolled were loyal to Daemon, not to Marcus. This was the problem with the current structure the king’s authority superseded everyone else’s, even family, even the church itself.

"He is... Your majesty, it's the earl of the southern boarder!" Last second the servant had decided to better call one of his titles then his name. Now she pressed her eyes shut and waited for the worst. This time, there wasn't a fireplace in the vicinity, but her master was a creative women. Even in a flower field, she would find something to hurt her... or even kill her. What was the life of a servant compared to royalty? Maybe she would be found in the ruins of the pavilion tomorrow or drowned in the pond not far away... As the silence continued, the servant got more and more anxious. For a few seconds, the beauty just stood there, a confused look on her face. Which earl? Was there any ea

They mourned him and continue to do so. Someone had to take over now that the King was gone, and the young Crown Prince is doing an excellent job of carrying on his father's legacy. He's skilled at making snap decisions, and he's a natural leader. Not to mention that he's quite attractive. Anastasia isn't the only girl in the kingdom who fantasizes about him. When she sees him pass by, she can't help but steal a glimpse at him. If word gets out that she secretly admires the Prince, she'll most likely be beaten to death, but who can blame her? Despite the fact that he is rumored to be engaged, Anastasia smiles sheepishly whenever his name is mentioned. Even if he isn't enganged, a maid and a

“Could you help me get a glass of water to drink?" Dominic nodded then clapped his hands twice, immediately, several servants entered with their heads bowed and their hands clasped together. They were dressed in rich black and gold uniforms far too elegant for ordinary servants. They carried themselves like royalty, which left me wondering— Who is Dominic aside from being my father's strongest warrior? "Get my mate a glass of water.” I watched the servant's eyes shoot up from shock the moment he said that. Why's that? Were they shocked he called me his mate?

“I was a guardian once. A keeper of the throne’s will.” Rael’s grip tightened on the book. “You’re saying you served the throne?” “I was bound to it,” Vame corrected. “As all who take the Hollow Crown must be.” Silence. Myrra’s expression darkened. “So you’re telling us someone actually wore it?” Vame’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Once.” Rael flipped through the book, scanning the changing pages. His pulse quickened as he found a new passage, the ink shifting before his eyes.

After all, some of my servants are watching and losing my composure can be a headlune whuch the nobles can use to attack my reputaion and my position as the crown pribcess of this whole empire. 'I'm so full. As expected, steak is just too tasty. It suits my palates well'

All this while peasants toil to pay their rent and feed their children. We heard of the rigid rules. The bows and curtseys. The formalities for no other reason other than the luck of one’s birth. The consequences of breaking these rigid rules. The maids in town gossiped for months about the servant whose tongue was cut out for daring to address the crown prince without invitation. He allegedly belonged to the Alpha of Lunar Storm. The story goes that the servant’s niece had recently been sold to the the Crown Prince’s house after his brother died of an illness. She was sold at market and his Alpha was unwilling to purchase her so that she could stay. The servant was tasked with being the man

The quarters are a hive of activity even at night and once they sense my advance, they bow. They do not know whether I am king or not. However, they know that I am not a mere guard. “Um—” “Where is the woman who was brought some days ago?” I ask. “Woman—the consort?” The servant asks. “Yes.” I state. A woman rushes towards me, and she bows. “Your majesty.” She announces and every servant in the space falls to the floor, knowing that I am king. “You are?” I ask. “I am Damsey, your majesty. I am the head of the oil and pipes.” She put forth, bowing.

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.

Whatever noble refinement he had spent years cultivating shattered like cheap glass. Sebastian let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His polished, hand-made leather shoe came down, pinning Lorenzo’s palm to the floor with agonizing precision. "The head of the family? Lorenzo, you seem to have forgotten who anointed you to that seat. In this city, what I bestow, I can reclaim whenever I please." Pinned and helpless, Lorenzo twisted his head, staring up at me with eyes saturated in pure venom. "Joanna, you make me sick. I can't believe how fast you crawled into the Don’s bed."