The Throne Of Honor And Blood 소설 & 이야기

Ashlyn rolled her eyes but she was smiling yet she was being honest when she offered her helping hand to him. “Sweet and thoughtful. I love it.” he smiled at how kind-hearted Ashlyn could be. “Vladi.” Ashlyn warned him. “Okay, being a blood prince has the power to manipulate blood like, making it a life-saving blood or make it poisonous that takes like instantly. But it was not just all that because the last time a released that side of mine, I brought a sea of blood that kills anything it touched. It was like a toxin but it still saves anyone that needs to be saved since I was trained to do that so I won’t harm anyone without my knowledge.” Vladimir surrendered and briefly explained to her

I pat him on the shoulder before we pull apart. ------------- King Orrin's ashes lay in the jar, as every God in Serenacia stays present in the room, honouring the dead king. Octavius, the wizard of Gods, takes over the event, where Orrin takes part in burial ritual of spreading his father's ashes through the Holy line, so he can rest in peace. The signature of white attires compliments the hall, as both God and goddesses, pay due decorum and respect to the late king. My eye meets with Cicero, as the look on his face makes me feel even more guilty of knowing what I know, but still yet, I couldn't call it murder when it is indeed treason.

Leonardo murmured, his voice lower now, edged in something more than certainty—something deeper. I smirked, exhaling softly. “He already has.” Leonardo reached forward, brushing his fingers lightly over Orion’s hand, watching as our child curled his fist around the offered touch. Power wasn’t just ruled. It was inherited. And Orion had just claimed his place. Elena was gone, but the world didn’t remain silent. A new name surfaced—Dominic Renaud, a strategist from Geneva, a man whose influence stretched across European financial circles, but whose interests now centered on testing the strength of our reign.

I slice my palm and let the blood drip onto the old sigil carved into the stone. The surface stirs. The lines pulse faintly with red light, revealing new symbols beneath. The words twist, rearrange — a signature that isn’t mine. Valeria di Rossi. She’s already claimed it. The bond is active again. My hand curls into a fist, blood still dripping. “She’s binding me to her through blood law. She wants to share my throne.” Luca kneels beside the altar, studying the markings. “Then we break it.” “You can’t break blood magic with steel.”

The maid quarters were a beautiful representation of the kingdom of Ghandor. In the early morning, a cold air blew back and forth, causing shivers. Multiple groups of men practice swordplay, as usual, with distant metal striking metal. He remembered the maidens and the over ten contenders who are getting ready for the second round, battling for His affection. Prince Kohl reached out of his bed, glanced out the window, and heard a silent whisper, a voice echoing,'she is the queen of the iron throne'. He looked around his bedroom and wondered whether he was having a hallucination. 'No, this is real,' he exclaimed.

The crown hits the marble floor with a sharp clang just before my father’s body does. The hall erupts in screams. I want to shout, to rush over to him, but my voice sticks in my throat. All I can do is watch the blood pool beneath his throne, creeping toward me. The soldiers kneel, but not for the king—for her. Queen Lunice, my grandmother. “Long live the Queen,” they chant, their voices hollow and obedient. Her eyes meet mine. Those dark, ancient, endless eyes hold me in place across the years. “No male heir shall survive,” she whispers. “The curse has already begun.”

The other six chairs surrounding it were already occupied. "Alpha Ciaran," said a dry, feminine voice. It was Amyra, the vampire queen. Her cold and calculating red eyes locked onto mine with amusement. "Countess Amyra." I bowed my head slightly, taking a seat at the table. Across from me, Zolaiah grunted in acknowledgement. The ogre king didn’t like formalities. His tusks jutted out from chapped lips, and his enormous bulk made his chair creak under him. "Let us begin," Rune Elarion, Princess Regent of the Bleeding Throne, said, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

Eldric stood there, alone, facing a dozen other elders who stared at him with cold, accusatory gazes. "You brought him back, Eldric," Lord Vorlag’s voice boomed through the room. He stood on the highest platform, his black wooden staff gripped tightly. "You brought the traitor back to this sacred land." "I brought back an Alpha of the Bane bloodline," Eldric countered calmly, his deep voice resonating throughout the chamber. "And I brought the foretold Heir of the Moonblood."

“Finally! Someone tamed that fake-death-playing brat! Six‘deaths’! Neighboring kingdoms refused alliances!” The wedding came. Bells rang across the empire. Silver rose petals fell from the palace dome. Rumors spread: “The Seventh Consort tamed his hunger!” The truth? He still takes a drop of my blood each night— not from thirst, but from covenant. The Blood Prince hasn’t lost his fangs… he just chose to sheathe them for me. And Lucian? After we left—he and Seraphina took the lash daily. Once the Lion of the North. Now just a ghost.

We stood side by side, receiving the blessings and cheers of all present. On my finger glittered a massive diamond ring, a symbol of the alliance between two mafia families. Behind me stood a knight whose loyalty would never waver. Beneath me lay a vast empire, growing at a staggering pace. As for love? It had been buried three months ago in that blood-soaked casino, along with my shattered right hand. For me, love no longer existed. And now, the new commander rose, her reign beginning with absolute authority.