The Forgotten Princesses Mga Nobela at Kwento

A chilling silence fell over the room. “The princesses craved more than what their father could offer them. Eldric had many mistresses, women who bore him children but were never his true queen. The princesses saw them as weak, but in truth, they were powerful—gifted in their own ways. When Eldric refused to share the full extent of his magic with his daughters, they took matters into their own hands. One by one, they drained the life force of his mistresses, stealing their magic, growing stronger with each soul they consumed.”

Every Pack-member has heard about their story, but no one has ever seen Princess Dezra because she wants to keep her family out of the public eye. Walker listens as the Elder tells them about the Princess drugging her Protector to get away from the Palace in secret and about her return after several years. They discover that Princess Dezra had lied about the bond between her and Prince Darron and that she had, in fact, rejected her true Mate-bond after their child was born. “Princess Dezra lied to King Vaughn about miscarrying her first pregnancy and she stole the necklace from the family vault to make sure her Daughter would never shift into a Lycan if that were her fate.” The Elder conclud

But Elara tasted the poison beneath every smile. She swept into the hall beside her parents, Kael just behind, her gown of deep green catching the candlelight. Nobles bowed their heads, though their eyes followed her like hawks. Already the whispers had begun: The princess and the Ironfang heir. A match written by politics… or by fate. Her stomach twisted.

I regretted how I welcomed her with open arms, how I tried to love her. And then, I decided to make everyone see her for who she really was. But that failed too. Why would they believe the villain when they already had their precious heroine in mind? The sun began to set on the horizon, casting a soft orange glow over the park. My phone buzzed incessantly in my pocket. I pulled it out. “Miss Moretti, the investigation you requested—about your family’s shipment accident and the missing funds at the casino—it’s finished.” My pulse spiked, though I kept my voice steady. “Emily Moretti organized the accident, didn’t she?”

Nadia – now It was a long story that Kael told me as quickly as possible. I was positive he was leaving things out. To hear him tell it to me, his Beta had been investigating young werewolves raised in the human foster system for no particular reason at all – yeah, right – when she’d suddenly stumbled upon undeniable proof of the lost princess. The missing-presumed-dead fated fiancée herself. The Lycan Princess, heir to the royal line that once governed all the werewolf packs. And she’d been an orphan living in the human world all this time.

Some she didn’t recognize. Others she wished she didn’t. She had started writing them down. Her hand trembled as she traced a word inked into ancient parchment: "Nullum", a dialect the royal seers buried with their dead. It meant The Forgotten. She looked down at the shard again. Then, slowly, she pressed her palm to the glass. The obsidian grew warm. And then___ It wasn’t the mirror that broke. It was her. Or rather, something inside her. A wall she hadn’t known she’d built. A dam of rituals and silence.

"I… I'm done with this. Whoever wants to be princess can have it. I'm not getting involved. You… you figure it out yourselves!" As soon as she finished speaking, she stumbled back to her room and locked the door. Only Mira, Bianca, and I remained in the living room. Mira took a deep breath. "Alright, since we've all been reborn with our memories intact, let's be straight with each other. In the past three lifetimes, we sabotaged one another trying to become the princess, but in the end, we were all killed by that lunatic prince."

Because I had not read that name. I had felt it. Like it belonged to me before memory did. Silas’s grip on my arm tightened slightly without him realizing it. Caspian looked at me again. Carefully now. Like he was watching a structure collapse in real time. “The lost princess,” he said quietly, “was never unprotected.” A pause. Then: “She was hidden.” My throat went dry. Hidden. Not dead. Not lost. Hidden. The mark on my wrist burned so sharply I almost cried out.

Questions remained unanswered. Across Valdoria, few remembered Lana Marcone as she truly was. They remembered only the story that endured. The Queen who betrayed her King.

This was the best life, any girl in her position could ever have, but yet she wasn’t happy. Not at all. She wasn’t ungrateful, or anything, but she couldn’t stop, remembering her mistress, her princess. Her Princess, Eretria, of the Southern Isles. She could remember that fateful, month, that dreadful day, the prince marched into their kingdom, and took her princess, collared her, in front of everybody as she was pulled across the streets, like a commoner. She screamed and reached out for her princess, but she was held back, by the officers, who kept her still and subtle, until the prince waltzed in front of her, staring down at her.