Novel & Cerita The Man Who Lost Queen

"Queen, I can't believe you invited a man just after I went out. It's a good thing I forgot my keys on my room." She had her eyes stalking, as though she'd kill her prey at any moment. The man immediately moves away from me, glaring at the woman who had just arrived out of nowhere. He happens to forget to close the door, making it easier to come inside without making much of a sound. "I was right, Queen, aren't I?" Bright said and looked at me for a second before glancing back at the man, talking about what she said before she left earlier this morning. Afterwards, she shifted her gaze towards the man with a cold stare.

I am utterly in awe of the beautiful creature in front of me. “Our mate.” Rohan mutters dreamily. “Our queen.” I agree.

The old Alexander was back. The man shrugged, “Your loss I suppose. I would want my last look to that good.” He shrugged, raising his hand to punch Alexander again, but Alexander caught his fist. The man was startled for a moment, even more so when Alexander yanked him to his level. Alexander’s hand flew to the man’s throat, locking tightly around his windpipe. “You talk too much.” Alexander’s deep voice growled, before ripping out his windpipe. The man’s jaw went slack before he slumped to the ground. “No!” The Queen roared as people dragged her away, but I didn’t care about her.

He collapsed against the side of the sofa, his head bowing until it touched her silent chest, his fingers clutching her hand as if it were the only thing keeping him from drifting into the void. I pulled them both into my arms, the dead Queen and the broken King, as the weight of our failure crashed down on us like a falling building. I didn't care about the Laurent deeds. I didn't care about the boardrooms or the millions. I just felt the crushing, suffocating grief of a woman who had lost the only person who truly understood what it meant to be a Knight.

"You look... you look like a queen." "I am a queen," I said. "Say what you came to say, Julian." His eyes darted nervously toward Cassian, then the archers on the wall, then back to me. "I made a mistake," he said. "A terrible mistake. I didn't know who you really were. If I had known—" "If you had known I was royalty, you'd have treated me better?" My voice stayed calm, but something hot burned underneath it. "That's not an apology, Julian. That's regret over what you lost, not sorrow for what you did."

“You’re not allowed to die, okay?” He smiled weakly. “Wasn’t planning to.” “Do you know where you are?” I asked, waving my hand over his eyes. “Hospital… unfortunately.” “Good. Brain still works.” He squinted at me. “Did I win the fight at least?” “You fell down the stairs.” “So no?” He raised an eyebrow. “No.” He sighed. “So disappointing.” I shook my head, smiling despite my hurt Then his expression grew serious. “That man,” he said quietly. “I mean Damiano.”

He sank into the seat, eyes half-lidded, replaying the look Vera gave him. She'd really let him go. And now—now he finally got it. What he'd lost.

"Tell me, 'Voice of the King.' Do you remember the rose garden? Do you remember the girl who cried because she broke a string on her lute?" "I don't know what you're talking about." "Abigail." The name hit the room like a cannon blast. I stopped breathing. The silk screen felt like a thin sheet of ice. "The Queen died in the fire," Kael said. His voice was low. Uncertain. "We all saw the body. It was charred. Unrecognizable." "We saw a body," Vance said. He stepped forward again. He didn't wait for permission. He reached out and ripped the silk screen down.

Queenie was chanting more to herself than the man seated like a King in the garden chair. The man's expression was deadpanned. "Why? Did you kill me or what?" He asked suspiciously. His voice was a little rougher than before. It was all due to the toxins. Even after being treated, the side effects were still apparent. Queenie instantly changed her tactics. If the man wasn't dead, then she could let him revive the company. After all, Abigail would help him. After the company began flourishing, she could then knock him out completely. She threw her hands around his neck, hugging him tightly. "Marcus, so you're alive. Thank God you are back. You have to help us." She didn't even ask where he we

He left, and I could hear him sniffle as he walked back to his room, the fact that he was sleeping alone on what should have been his wedding night not escaping me. The next morning, we gathered again in the throne room to meet the guide the queen had obtained for us. “I would like you to meet an old friend,” the Queen said, and the four of us watched as a very tall man strode into the room. He had wild dark hair and eyes and looked like a mad beggar, proud and a bit frightening. He also looked as though he had crawled out of the nearest mud pit, and the smell was terrible. How was this person an old friend of the queen? Even Catherine looked confused, looking at her mother in surprise.