The Empress In The Palace Novels & Stories

The hotel was— No, referring to it as a hotel was an insult. This was a palace. The building was enormous, with sleek glass windows reflecting the snowy mountains in the distance. The entrance was lined with golden lights, glowing warmly in the cold winter air. The lobby? Straight out of a luxury magazine. High ceilings. Chandeliers dripping with crystals. A massive fireplace at the center, crackling softly. Plush velvet seating. Elegant décor. This wasn't just expensive. This was stupid rich people expensive.

My face burned. I looked away quickly. Shame wrapped itself around me like a heavy blanket. I was small. Weak. Vulnerable. What would he think of me now? What would Bryan do if he knew the truth? I wished I could run out of the room. I did not belong there. But Tasha stepped forward and broke the silence. She coughed. "There's something I have to say before we sign anything." Everyone turned to her. "I am not the CEO of Denim Group," she stated emphatically. "The real CEO is right here next to me."

The palace felt calmer than it had in days. Perhaps everyone was relieved that Seraphine had finally been removed from the court. Or perhaps they were simply pretending nothing had happened. By the time we reached the northern wing, the crowds had disappeared and the corridors became quieter. Older as well. The walls here were covered with faded paintings of former emperors, each one dressed in heavy ceremonial robes. Their eyes seemed to follow us as we walked beneath them. Valerian stopped before two enormous oak doors covered in carved wolves and ancient symbols.

Hence, she had always despised illegitimate children with a passion. Empress Victoria gripped Celeste's jaw tightly with her left hand and extended her right hand, prompting a servant to immediately hand her a sharp hairpin. Celeste trembled in fear, trying to struggle. However, several guards held her firmly in place so she could not move. To prevent her from screaming, they had already gagged her mouth. Empress Victoria went mad, slashing Celeste's cheeks countless times with the hairpin as blood poured from the wounds. It looked horrifyingly gruesome, like blood tears streaming from her eyes.

"But she is the only one who fought for us. If I am in a cage, at least it is Elon or my father who hold the key." I see a flash of white silk on a balcony. It's Rowena. She catches my gaze and offers a slow tilt of her head. The tour is over. It’s time for me to return to the woman who claimed me. "I will get a servant to show you the remaining section of the palace. They have also prepared a feast for you in your chambers. I have... matters to attend to with her Majesty," I say. * * * * * * Abel's POV I stand in the center of the Empress's chambers after pouring myself another glass of fine wine.

The grand ballroom of the Astoria Hotel glowed with golden chandeliers and polished marble floors. The room buzzed with quiet laughter, clinking glasses, and the low hum of powerful people pretending to care about charity. Adriana Cole stepped out of her black car and handed the keys to the valet without a word. The moment she entered the building, heads turned. They always did. Tonight she wore a deep emerald gown that clung perfectly to her tall figure, the silk flowing elegantly as she walked. Her dark hair was pinned back in a smooth knot, exposing the sharp elegance of her face.

Sebastian was overjoyed to see the empress wearing his gown design again after not seeing her in it for the past two days, knowing that the empress was in a deep sleep. “Also, where is the Emperor?” Valerie inquires of Betty as the four maids assist her in her medium-sized dressing room. They all hear a knock from the chamber door before Betty can answer Valerie's question.

"Empress Eleanor Nash. My life for the throne." Kan and Gideon stood frozen, watching the exchange. The ruler of the District was a small woman, but she carried the weight of a titan. Her silver-white hair was styled in sharp, clinical waves, and her amber eyes were fixed solely on Timothy with a mix of affection and grim respect. "Get up, Timothy. I’ve told you I hate the theatrics." Her voice was soft but carried to every corner of the room. "Rise." As Timothy stood, the Empress turned her gaze toward the two men behind him. "And these are?"

"Officer, just because this is a princess's estate doesn't mean you can ignore our suffering." One voice became many. Word spread until it reached the Department of Justice. Royal guards broke in. They searched every corner. Keisha had only used the blood of prisoners already sentenced to death. But the Emperor hated witchcraft and curses above all else. She was dragged before the throne and publicly condemned. Keisha didn't defend herself. She didn't even answer. She just whispered her consort's name over and over. Everyone understood then: she had lost her mind. The Emperor stripped her of her title. She was confined to the estate for life.

Lucien Arden took the throne. He crowned Rosalind Hartwell empress. And Evelyn Hartwell—the principal wife who had fought at his side all the way from embattled prince to emperor—was given only the rank of Imperial Consort. The day the decree came down, Silverleaf Palace was completely silent. Every servant kept their head lowered and hardly dared to breathe, afraid that Evelyn would weep, or throw things, or come apart the way any consort does when the emperor's favor leaves her. Evelyn simply accepted the decree, calmly. “I thank His Majesty for his generosity.” There was no movement in her voice and nothing in her face. Even her beautiful eyes held not the slightest trace of grief.