Sit On A Throne Of Lies Novels & Stories

He put one of his legs on another and leaned back on the throne. “It’s been ten days, Jayden,” he smirked in a contemptuous tone, “Do whatever you want. You will never be able to get me off the throne. And when I eventually do, all of you will be the fertilizer of my new kingdom.” He lifted up his right hand and waved it in the air. Two wolves who stood slightly closer to the throne were dragged in front of the throne instantly by something invisible and exploded into two blood pools. All the other wolves growled at the scene, but they all took a step backwards fearfully.

“About himself, of course—the condition surrounding the throne he's sitting on and the blood he shed just to get to the position that he’s now.” For some reason, my chest clenched at his words. “You're lying to me.” “Am I really doing that?” His voice was smoother than it should’ve been, too calm for a liar. He leaned in closer, like someone having a friendly conversation. “You think Kieran is on the throne because he deserved it? That the crown was handed over to him as tradition demands? That it was an inheritance from his father? He shed blood to keep it—not just blood, but blood of his blood.”

She sat down at her desk and opened the Book of Ashes again. And on a new page, in clean black ink, she wrote: VI. The throne is not inherited. It is taken. And if I must become a monster to keep it, then let them tremble. Let them kneel. Let them burn.

The throne room was a cage of polished marble and gilded lies. Kaelen sat on the throne of his ancestors, a heavy, ornate monstrosity of cold stone and cold ambition, and he felt like a fraud. The echoes of Seraphina’s arrest still reverberated through the castle, a silent, seismic shock that had fractured the court into a hundred terrified factions. They looked at him with fear, with respect, with a new, dangerous understanding. He was not the pawn they had believed him to be. He was the predator they had foolishly ignored.

she asked calmly, “will the Moon mend?” No one answered. Because they did not know. That uncertainty fractured their perfection. “You mistake consequence for cause,” Maltheus said at last. “You mistake control for stability,” she replied. A dangerous light entered his ancient eyes. A councilor’s voice slid toward me. “Consider your next words carefully. Your throne exists by our sanction.” Something inside me went utterly still. What is a throne worth… if it demands her life to keep it? The bond roared. Truth. Not possession. Not duty. Truth.

(Apollo) The throne did not reject him. That was the first thing Apollo noticed as he sat. Hell’s seat of power was alive in ways its subjects never truly understood. It remembered every ruler who had claimed it, every flame that had fed it, every law that had been spoken from its blackened steps. It resisted weakness. It punished uncertainty. It devoured kings who confused dominance with worthiness. This was not just furniture. It was a hungry relic, a pulpit built from conquest, a sacrament of basalt and bone that drank intent like wine.

"I stood by you from the brink of bankruptcy all the way to growing the firm, yet you married Flora behind my back. You took my sacrifices for granted and completely dismissed all my hard work. "Your so-called feelings were nothing more than exploitation." With that, I turned around and stopped looking at him. "Security, escort him out. This man is banned from entering the Whitfield tower from now on." As Louis was dragged away, he was still roaring hysterically. "Rachel! You can't! You can't marry him! You belong only to me! Only I love you!" Love? His "love" was using me for ten whole years, bleeding me dry of every last drop of my value, and then discarding me like trash.

And this is not a luck story. People like to believe that men who rise from nothing do so because fate intervenes or opportunity appears at the right moment. Maybe that happens for some people. It didn’t happen for me. Instead, my beginnings were marked by betrayal—a family that should have been my foundation became my first battlefield. Before I understood or could describe it, I was fighting wars I never asked for. I was born into a lie. I didn’t know it yet.

The guards opened it, and I stepped inside with them. The people inside turned to me. My heart was beating rapidly, not used to the sudden attention I was receiving. They looked at me in awe from head to toe. I raised my head and looked at the throne. The King, Queen, and Axel hadn't arrived yet, but I was asked to sit on one of the chairs next to the king and queen's throne. I was nervous to see everyone looking at me. "His Majesty King Edmund Hastings, His Majesty Queen Charlene Hastings, His Royal Highness Prince Elric Axel Hastings," the guard loudly said, announcing the arrival of the three people.

"I'm not after anything except a paycheck and a safe place to work." "Liar." The word hangs in the air between us. Mrs. Thornton looks ready to say more when footsteps sound in the hallway. Everyone in the room turns toward the door just as Xade appears in the doorway. He takes in the scene with one sweep of his eyes; The guards standing at attention, Mrs. Thornton holding my phone like evidence, Me standing in the middle of it all in my thin pajamas with my heart in my throat. "What's going on here?" His voice is calm but there's steel underneath it.