Novelas y relatos de The Borrowed Crown

He believed Sally was his perfect little sister and that I was just a spoiled brat. Just like that, they gave her my identity and the love that once belonged to me. In the end, to keep me from standing in Sally's way, they made it so that I perished in a fire. In this life, I refused to stand down in hopes of securing their worthless love. "Grammie passed down that necklace to me, but you stole it. Wait till Mom and Dad arrive and find out you not only gave her the heirloom necklace but also swapped out the bride. Let's see what they'll say," I challenged.

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.

OURS. The word echoed through his mind with the force of a command, and Kael felt his careful control begin to crack. He glanced back at the common room. The innkeeper was watching him with narrowed eyes, perhaps wondering if this particular buyer would be trouble after all. The other patrons had returned to their drinks, unaware that the Crown Prince of Virelion was standing ten feet away, struggling not to shift and tear the entire building apart to get to whatever—*whoever*—waited below.

“A whisper, a shadow still lurks unseen. And now, they openly signal themselves. They presume we are unaware of their presence. They are mistaken.” Liora, standing in proximity, traced the faint magical residue lingering upon the parchment. “They are astute,” she murmured. “The trace is almost imperceptible, yet deliberate. The author of this note comprehends that the crown observes and trusts that their subtlety will safeguard them. However, the crown has already discerned beyond this.” Aera nodded, her fingers gently caressing the crown. “Then we act, discreetly, with foresight. The initial betrayal will be unveiled before it unfolds fully, but it will elucidate the depth of the shadow’s r

“I can do it again.” Outside, the bells tolled midnight. Deep beneath the palace, in the Sanctum, frost crept along the golden walls. And in that silence, somewhere between prayer and power, the two sisters began to draw closer once more, one in chains, one in silk, each preparing to claim the crown that the other could not hold.

" A flash of triumph crossed Desmond's eyes, though his expression remained tender. He knelt on one knee before her and took out a diamond ring he had long prepared. "Winnie, let me take Andy's place. Let me take care of you." I nearly retched. So many bodies were not even cold yet, and there they were, pledging love. Did Winnie deserve to speak of regret? Did she deserve to speak of love? After a moment's hesitation, Winnie pushed the ring away. She gently rubbed the ring I had once given her, her voice soft. "The ring isn't necessary, but I can marry you." Joy exploded in Desmond's eyes.

She caught herself. Control. Keep the baby safe. Chain her fury to that. “Hold her head,” a voice said, closer. A hand clamped at the back of the hood, forcing her chin down, making it harder to orient. She bared her teeth against cloth. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Crowe’s voice murmured near her ear again, maddeningly calm. “We’re not keeping you. I'm just borrowing you.” “Borrowing,” she spat. “Like a book. Or a tool.”

Independence was my armour. And yet, here I was: dodging payments, buying time, scrambling to keep everything afloat. It stung, knowing how much my dad boasted about me to everyone, painting me as this unstoppable success. If only he knew how tight things had gotten. But that was the thing about pride, it didn't pay the bills. So when the Rutherford family, fabulously wealthy and even more fabulously dramatic, called me after I'd planned their younger son's wedding, I knew exactly what they wanted.

"No, it is mine. He promised. He promised me." "He lied," I said again. I reached for the crown. My fingers touched the thorns. They bit into my skin, drawing blood, and I felt the king's presence—cold, ancient, hungry. He was in the crown, in the shadow, in the blood that connected us all. His voice whispered in my mind, soft and seductive. You cannot take it from her, he said. It is mine. It will always be mine. I forged it from my own grief. I bound it with my own blood. It knows its master.

Mountains split. The three thrones began glowing. Amara’s Blood Crown lifted from her head. Lucian’s golden crown appeared. And between them— A third crown emerged. Silver. The child’s crown. The stranger stared at it. “No…” Lucian looked at him. “What?” The stranger took a step backward. “That crown wasn’t supposed to exist.” The little girl smiled. “That’s because nobody owns me.” The stranger’s eyes widened. The child raised her hand. The entire kingdom responded.