The Last Empress Book Novels & Stories

he began, his voice unhurried and deliberate, "Did you just say that my Empress has been keeping your daughter from you?" Cedric and Seraphina went rigid. "The... The Empress?" Cedric raised his head, his gaze falling on Mother, the blood draining from his face. "She... She..." "She is my Empress. The lady of the court, and the only one in this kingdom who holds that title." Father spoke each word with precision. "And that child."

"That dark granite the previous owners had looked like a mausoleum. You have such an eye for these things, Emilka." For the next fifteen minutes, the conversation flowed with an easy, practiced rhythm. We complained about contractor delays and gossiped about a mutual friend's disastrous charity gala. Evelyn was completely in her element, vibrant, witty, and entirely engaged. It was so easy to slip into the old familiarity, to remember why I had always valued her. She was the one person in this family who had never made me feel like an outsider. But every time the car slowed down in traffic, my mind raced. Was Damian truly stuck in that boardroom, a victim of his boss's sudden demands? Or was

A plot twist she hadn't expected, but one she was ready for. "So, Julian wants to go to war?" she whispered. "Tell the legal team to prepare the 'Apocalypse File.' If he wants to see how deep the Everett shadow goes, I’ll show him." She walked back to her desk and picked up her phone. There was a new message from an unknown number. It was a photo of her entering her private apartment building. Attached was a single line of text: The Empress has a beautiful home. It would be a shame if something happened to the 'secret' she left there.

I don't understand any of it. Perhaps the High Priestess was right all along. My destiny was never to entangle myself in such worldly emotions. I was born to inherit the healing arts of the High Priestess, not to be ensnared by the complexities of human love. Every corner of this house still bore traces of our shared happiness, echoes of a life that now felt distant and foreign. But maybe he had always been this kind of person—a thrill-seeker who never cared to stay, playing his games without leaving his heart behind.

“Empress Cynthia would like to teach you a few new things; do not disrespect her; she has the right to punish you if you do anything stupid.” I nodded. “I would do no such thing.” She led me into her chambers, and my stomach churned. “Are you hungry?” she asked. “No.” I lied. “Do you know why I brought you here?” she asked. “No, Empress.” “I want to show you something. Have you ever wondered why the empresses stay young, even for decades?” she asked. “I have wondered, but I hear it’s a gift from the god of light.” “And that is correct.”

She played with her fingers in her lap, her eyes refusing to meet mine. "My name is Emerald and I'm the the Princess of Wales." She said. My hands curled under her chin and I lifted her face to meet mine. "Wow, your name effectively captures your beauty." I told her. A tinge of pink rushes to her cheek, "Thank you." She says. "The way it matches the colour of your eyes, your jet black hair, pale skin and the most tempting cherry red lips I've ever seen." I continue. She blushes harder this time too shy to say a word.

The empress hadn't seen him before; her knowledge of him was a patchwork of distant reports and rumors. "Hmm. I had heard... Well, the rumors can't really be trusted. He doesn't look... cursed? No, unsettling, was it?" Her words were flat, as though she didn't care to put too much thought into it. "Yes. A hollow look." Plancina tilted her head slightly. "I saw it in his eyes... but now... something has changed. He looks less like a ghost in a tunic now. More fire." "Fire?" The empress raised an eyebrow, her tone dismissive, as if it didn't really matter. "He's just another descendant. One more rumor. Does it really matter what he is?"

"Of course, you must me right! That's amazing! If it pleases Your Majesty, I will go at once to see if any of this magical water is left." "It pleases me," the Empress agreed. "Glory to the Empress," Birger bowed and scurried from the room in search of Zan or anyone else who might have a clue if the water still existed inside the Castle Valiant. Around her the library's assistants cleaned up all the piles of books except the three that the Empress held in front of her. "Set these aside for future reference." Aurora handed the set to a young page, who whisked away the books.

The last candle drowns on my desk—its flame stretching upward in one final, desperate moment before collapsing into itself. I will never love. Not truly. Empresses do not get to love. Do not get to be loved. This will be my price. And I will pay it—again and again—if it means keeping him close, if it means nothing ever changes. My gaze drifts back to the first Emperor's portrait. The letters behind it are sealed away again, out of sight. Entombed. As if I've buried something living within these stone walls. Something that will never breathe free again.

"Yes, Isabella is someone very dear to me." Isabel hesitated yet her curiosity piqued once more but unsure if she should press further. "Is... is that why you are so kind to me, Your Grace?" she asked tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. The empress's gaze softened as a tender smile graced her lips. She then paused and searched for the right words. After a deep breath, she gently took the book from Isabel's hands and placed it on a nearby table. She took Isabel's hands in her own as she began, "Let me tell you a story."