Story Of Half-blood Prince นิยาย & เรื่องราว

“If there really are talks of peace with the Wyres, you know exactly what King Hart would offer.” Ignoring the way my heart drops, I turn away from her. She says nothing as I head back out the front door, tearing down the steps, mind racing. I know she’s right. If there really are peace talks. If there’s a way for Shifters and Wyres to finally end this centuries-old war, I know exactly what our King would offer. Octavia. It’s a tale as old as time. A cliché that should have ended after the ink’s dried on the history books. Octavia is the Princess. Our Princess. And the Bloody Prince is around our age. It makes sense as much as I don’t want it to.

“Someone near the throne.” I swallowed hard. He was right. The attack had been too well coordinated, too precise. Someone had fed them information, someone who knew every detail of the palace’s defenses. I had suspected it for a while, but hearing him say it made it real. “Promise me.” He rasped, his grip on my shirt tightening. “Promise me you’ll protect my legacy.” I stared at him, the weight of his words settling on my shoulders like a heavy cloak. “I promise.” But before I could say anything more, his eyes rolled back, and he fell forward, unconscious. I caught him just before he hit the ground.

She better hope she did, if anyone else has touched her she will be punished till there is no return. ……;…..,,,,,, Okay so my Lycan prince is completed. If you want the story of Avery Cole just hit me up on F******k @bjpassions. Thanks for reading I hope you all enjoyed the story….until next time my readers With love. Bj♥️

The prince was from the south so they also uncover the first prince’s past in the second novel. I remember myself crying in happiness when the author decided to publish a book where the first prince is the MC and was among the first buyer when the hard copy had finally out for sale. Because, the first prince is my crush after all! Though, I remembered the ingredients were hard to find as it was located in three other continents and the last ingredients is “The pure-hearted’s blood.” Which was the MC, Cecilia Istvan’s blood. But I can’t enter the capital or even get close to Cecilia so what am I supposed to do? I do remember me accompanying Avery to attend the ball in my last few days, but by

Then, through the trees, a column of riders appeared—black silhouettes against the crimson light. The villagers poured into the square, whispering prayers. At the front rode a man who seemed carved from shadow itself. His armor was etched with runes that pulsed faintly red, and a long cloak flowed behind him like smoke. His face was half hidden by a hood, but his eyes caught the moonlight—crimson, cold, and alive. “The Dark Prince,” someone breathed. “He’s real.” The man dismounted, the air itself seeming to bow away from him. His gaze swept the crowd. “By order of the Crown,” he said, voice low but carrying. “We seek the girl born under the Blood Moon.”

I didn’t have words for what I’d seen. “Magic?” one of the priests whispered. “Forbidden magic?” “No,” said Elder Cian, voice low. “Older than magic.” His words sank into the floor like a curse. I left before their debate turned into panic. By the time the healers took her, dawn had touched the towers. The light made her skin look almost human again—no trace of the glowing veins that had laced her body in the forest. Still, I couldn’t shake the image. It clung to me like the scent of blood after a hunt.

The man before her was broken, vulnerable in a way she had never witnessed. The image of the powerful, unwavering James, the king of their secret world, was gone, replaced by a man haunted by past mistakes, burdened by a secret that had finally erupted. She looked at Jordan, seeing the pain in his eyes, the deep-seated hurt that fueled his anger. He was a son who had been denied his father, a man who had spent his life wondering why he wasn’t enough.

The reply from my family’s Grand Elder was shockingly fast: “Your Highness, you have finally come to your senses. That half-blood mongrel isn’t worthy of breathing your name. The entire clan awaits your return.” A bitter, self-mocking smile touched my lips. For a man they called a “half-blood mongrel,” I’d hidden my identity as the firstborn of the Progenitor, Princess Devereux, playing the part of a nobody in this second-rate city for a century.

For ten years, I served the vampire prince Damon as his blood servant. The night I turned eighteen, he finally made me his woman. My dream come true. Except now I know the truth: I was just his practice run before he married into vampire nobility. "One more time." Damon’s voice echoed in the dark. His cold fingers gripped my chin, forcing my head up. My body was limp, and I was gasping against his chest. "I… I can't," I rasped.