The Lost Prince Novel Novels & Stories

I press my hand against my forehead, beginning to pace, even with my knee protesting as it does. When I look back at the Prince, he’s watching me with a calm expression, although his eyes suggest otherwise. They are ablaze with unreadable emotion, his full lips settled in a line. "My name is Hale,” he murmurs. He doesn’t offer his hand, and he doesn’t need to, because there is no way I would dare touch a pureblood. Even if his skin does look perfectly unflawed and temptingly…I shake my head. What am I thinking?

They flinched and raced to help quell the whining coming from far south of the room. I made way to the secluded room to bring in the raucous djinn that threatened to break free of its binding. It was still in its budding stages of becoming a full-fledged shapeshifter, so it’d be too early of a statement to tell what form it will take on when it's at its peak. “Prince!” Shareef ran towards me, eyes wide in disbelief. I ignored him and waved Khorasa and Faruq over. “Prince,” he said again, now out of breath.

Their eyes stared blankly at the stars. "Xavier..." He turned sharply. The ground beneath him cracked, revealing glowing veins of red, as if the earth bled. Then he saw it. A throne of fire, hovering above a bed of bones. Voices rose around it, chanting in a language he didn't understand but somehow felt familiar. "Prince of the Lost Line. Heir of Ash. Crown of the Undone." He staggered toward the throne. His reflection shimmered in the flame—gold eyes, a crown made of horn and shadow, and blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.

"I could also tell that you had already claimed your very first enemy. Why is she looking at you like that?" "Hmm?" "The mustard girl." "Oh my gosh!" Princess Seri almost gagged at Prince Hazan's perfect description of Princess Celine, especially since the woman decided to wear yellow up to her gloves. "You can't say that; I might accidentally call her the same thing, Oh my God." The prince chuckled at how she reacted. "But seriously, Prince Hazan, I would like to ask you not to do this again," she said. "I might lose all my hair if you don't."

He held it in his hands. A purple light shone from the sword, it shone so bright that it's radiance filled the whole room and almost blinded Fife and Elena. They had to shield their eyes with their hands. Gad and the shadow man knelt down and bowed to Theodore. "My prince, welcome home" the shadow man said. "huh?" Fife and Elena's eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "I am a prince?" Theodore asked hesitantly. "yes you are, you are our prince"

I signed at his foolishness and opened the book. The lost princess of Blora was fated with three mates whom she will find in the human world where she is struck now. One guy forcefully marries her and the other guy is an Alpha king while the last one is a wizard but all three are brothers who were separated when they were kids. They will fight for her and don't know how to share her. I closed the book angrily. Is she a thing to be shared? What story is this? I threw away the book and slept to distract my mind.

I was grateful that the black turned gray. Where the fuck was I? That was the big question. I was trying to understand where I was, but nothing I saw was familiar. Well, I thought so until I saw it: Harry. He walked back and forth in a large office. The veins on the middle-aged man’s forehead were becoming more and more prominent, and the furrows were hardening in his eyes. I was a spectator of his life in real time. Suddenly, the door burst open. “My king! Our spies confirmed it. Prince Warren is Princess Emma’s fated mate.” I presumed the man was Harry’s beta.

blah as he couldn't understand a single word as he felt nervous though he doesn't know why. “So now I formally introduced you to our little prince… our eldest!...”Stuart proudly announces with so much enthusiasm.. Everyone looked in a certain direction. Dean followed everyone's gaze and his eyes widened. Stunned and frozen on his feet to see the person opposite from where he was standing. The person his heart longed for. The person his heart chose to beat for. The only person his heart would choose to beat for.

I reached for it and settled onto the bed, willing myself to focus on the dense text. The book talked about King Alaric, Prince Keith's father who was tragically cut down in a bloody palace coup, he also lost his wife Queen Isolde during the war, and their son, Prince Keith, the rightful heir to the throne, was left... with broken legs. I stared at the book for a while as different thoughts swirled in my head, this incident had happened ten years ago.

“Why?” A wry line carves itself on her face. “Children tend to vanish when they venture too far from home. I would hate for any of you to end up like the lost heirs,” she says, and I think she meant it as a joke because her dreary eyes shine with dark humour, but I also think it was a sincere warning. “The lost… heirs?” I repeat questioningly, hopefully a worthy prompt for an elucidation. A ghoulish glint sparks in Hilda’s dull eyes. “The lost heirs; twins that braved into the woods. Rumours speculate that it was to visit their favourite spot by the lake which they visited religiously, but one day… they never returned.”