Servant To The Crown Novels & Stories

For ten years, I was Vincent's blood bag and his sharpest blade. I offered my rare blood to sustain his ancient power. I offered my loyalty to secure his throne as the Vampire Lord of this territory. I thought my devotion might earn me the eternal embrace of the turning. Instead, I received the announcement of his marriage to Lilith. A princess from a powerful European vampire clan. He said it was a necessary alliance. He said my blood was still precious. But when the sanctified silver tearing through the car,he used my body as a shield, to ensure his bride remained unblemished. That's when I knew. I was never his lover. I was just a consumable resource, a blood bag to be used and discarded.

She sat on her throne with an impious grin on her lips as the guards dragged a servant girl by the arms roughly into the throne room and threw her at her feet. “Please!” the servant pleaded with tears streaming down her face. She got up from her throne and approached the servant with a malignant glint in her eyes. She stopped in front of her and squatted to her level. A queen didn't go down for anybody but this one, she was ready to make an exception.

Is… is the room shrinking? “Well, yes I guess I do... knights are supposed to be serving under a liege or a lady of an important House, right? But since you are the crown princess of this kingdom, I think it’s kind of a given that I should be swearing fealty to you in the future when you are going to become the Queen,” he elaborated. And it was laughable, really.

They were the stewards of the land, entrusted with the welfare and prosperity of their people. As the ceremony reached its pinnacle, the crowns themselves were brought forth, symbols of authority and unity. Kendrick's crown was studded with precious gemstones, reflecting the strength of his rule, while the Faith's crown was adorned with delicate filigree, symbolizing her wisdom and grace. The king's crown was placed upon Kendrick's head with a regal solemnity, a weight that he accepted with a sense of duty and honor. The queen's crown followed, its gentle placement a reminder of the delicate balance she would bring to the kingdom.

The car doors swung open in unison, and a stream of figures in black poured into the banquet hall. Beneath their jackets, the subtle outlines of guns hinted at danger, a chill of menace in the air. A bodyguard with utmost respect opened the door of the central stretch limo. William Vincent, the iron-fisted ruler of Northland's shadowy corners, clad in a sleek black trench coat, walked over the glittering carpet of broken glass towards me. He was the man behind the mysterious calls, my mentor in all things firearms, my ace in the hole. William dropped to one knee before me, indifferent to the shards of glass slicing through his pricey pants.

His clothes were too expensive, his eyes, too malevolent. “Your Highness?” I turned with eyes full of tears; I had rubbed them with my sleeve to get that effect. Goldwork was a pretty scratchy material. “Y-yes...you came?” “You may call me Servitor Ignacio.” I nodded. Not a thrall, no, a servitor. That was top brass. “Servitor Ignacio, I would like to entrust the body of my poor uncle into your care.” “Yes, child of light. I know that the king is dead, but why—”

“I do not know what vulgar teachings you have learnt back in the main residence but things are different here my son, that servant is in no way obliged to listen to you neither is she obliged to carry out your orders seeing as you are not her owner. In this place, all of these servants listen to me and to me alone. You would do well you remember that fact. Just because you are the crown prince of the kingdom does not mean that you can go to just any where to exact the authority of that position. There are werewolves with more power than you can ever own that do not hold any title or prestige. Being the crown prince is use less when you are just the crown prince in name alone These servants a

“Not as a servant. Not as a woman. As mine.” The servant’s breath hitched. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The crown pressed against her hair, the throne beneath them cold and hard, and the princess’s warmth against her skin said everything. The princess tilted her chin up with one finger and kissed her slowly, tasting her own power on the servant’s lips. “Never forget where you kneel,” the princess whispered.

Her brow furrowed. The dead servant, the very man believed to have triggered the disaster before losing his own life, had entered royal service only a few months before the Crown Hunt. That much she already knew. What she had not noticed was a series of payments recorded before his employment at Evercrest. Small amounts. Regular intervals. Not wages from the Crown. She followed the trail to its source. The estate seal stamped beside each payment made her pulse quicken. House Ravaryn. Beatrice stared at the page. "No…"

Silence stretched between us. He was serious. I could see it in his eyes. The idea made me uneasy, and yet… maybe it was better this way. If I kept him close, I could watch him. Control him. Remind him of who he really was. “A guard in my household takes an oath,” I said slowly. “You will serve me, not Selene. You will obey me, not your heart. You will remember that your life belongs to the crown first. You will be nothing.”