The 31st Consort Novels & Stories

Nobles passed each other like peacocks in the halls—bows, smiles, gloved touches, sharp whispers. Outside, a dozen carriages lined the cobbled roads. And inside, the tension simmered. Amora received a sealed letter before morning light. It arrived on a black velvet tray—no seal, no name, just her title scrawled across the front: Her Grace, Royal Consort of Veridia. She opened it slowly, eyes narrowing at the words within. Her hand curled around the paper. She didn’t smile. Not yet. --- Meanwhile, a palace maid paused at Kael’s chamber.

I protested as he chuckled. “Okay. Fine- You’re right. My full name with all the titles is Crown Prince Conor William Victor of the House of Rovitz, Duke of Bolithos and Zaspoki, Marquess and Lord Protector of Palikir, Earl of Drismer, Viscount of Rabatti, Baron of Brolsteel. Geez… that’s a mouthful.” Conor said as I giggled. “It is! You try saying it someday.” He grumbled.

Luna Daisy stared at her in surprise, her grip unconsciously loosening. “So modest... Ha ha...” Luna Daisy laughed and revealed a radiant smile, dimples forming on her cheeks. “However, the future prospects for Edward are very promising. He will need support and many people to stand by his side. A marriage would be the best way to secure his position. As you are a daughter of Beta Henry, someone he values, if you will become a Crown Consort, I can ensure everything for you.” Emma listened in horror and said, “Your Highness, I do not agree!”

And thus, I found it incredibly convenient to keep a seeing eye on hand to help me understand some things I otherwise couldn’t. “I see the queen’s companion,” Wicket finally answered, his voice stilted and monotone, as it always was under the influence of his gift. I furrowed my brow in confusion. “The prince consort?” “No. The High Cliff knight,” he corrected, “who bears the mark of L’Amante.”

“He would never.” A few nodded quickly, eager to agree. Others looked away. Lady Isolde—the eldest, silver-haired, the unofficial leader of this perfumed viper’s nest—leaned forward, fingers steepled, eyes gleaming. “Of course not, Your Highness. But the North is… traditional. An Alpha of Lord Vuk’s power, with the council always pressing for alliances, for heirs…” She let the words hang, heavy and deliberate. “A second consort is not unheard of. Practical, even.”

Beside the tray lay a single, heavy envelope. Elara opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a card of thick, black cardstock with silver writing. ******** The First Three Rules of the Sacrifice Clause: 1. The Shadow's Reach: The Consort shall not cross the threshold of any exterior door without the Master’s hand upon her. To flee is to forfeit the life of the Saved (Mia Vance). 2. The Master’s Call: When the brand on the neck pulses thrice, the Consort has sixty seconds to find the Master's presence. Every second of delay is a minute of blood owed.

"Today is coronation day and we would be announcing the 6 lovely women chosen for this year's Alpha." Royal Consorts are not just for Alpha's per se, they're made to be wives of any male with an Alpha bloodline. Last 6th of June, consorts were chosen for one of the financial advisors back at the palace. Coronation days are only done every 6th of June and 6th of December.

The King gestured down the table. “Since we have a guest,” he said, “introductions are appropriate.” A man seated halfway down the table leaned back in his chair, looking completely relaxed. He had dark hair and sharp features that reminded me faintly of Consort Vita. “I’m Fenton,” he said casually. His gaze flicked briefly toward Reed. “The eldest prince.” A small pause. Then he added with deliberate ease, “Son of Consort Vita.” His tone made the distinction clear. Across the table from him sat a woman with the same dark hair and sharp eyes.

was being delivered publicly, a calculated humiliation designed to break Lionel’s spirit and cement Genevieve’s status as the new queen of Wisteria. "And what of the Quinton Consortium?" Lionel asked, his voice a low, resonant baritone. "They won't take kindly to their partners being dismantled." Genevieve let out a short, sharp laugh. "The Quinton Consortium is currently… occupied. My benefactor has ensured that their attention is focused elsewhere. They’re a family of ghosts, Lionel, haunting a legacy that is rapidly being liquidated."

One of the Dukes retorted in righteous anger at the same time as the envoy who spoke in a regretful tone “Who knew that our prince consort would be executed here? How can we swallow the grievance of this unrighteous act?” “Oh??” Orseus leaned forward in interest “Why didn’t I know the prince consort was visiting?” He narrowed his eyes, his gaze scrutinizing as he asked, “Or was he here as a spy to assassinate me?” “What nonsense?” The envoy shouted, losing his calm “Our prince consort is a very modest person and does not like to fuss about, and was only taking a stroll admiring the scenery when he was brutally executed. You, have violated our peace treaty.” He pointed his finger at Orseus as