Wicked Crown Novels & Stories

With a shaky breath, she stepped forward, the weight of the crown heavy in her hands. "I choose," she whispered. The words were a vow. A promise. A curse. As the crown touched her brow, something within her shifted , a spark, a pulse of power that was both foreign and familiar. The moment the cold metal made contact with her skin, the pain was immediate. A searing heat shot through her, like fire in her veins, burning her from the inside out. She gasped, stumbling back, clutching at the crown as if it might rip her apart.

I reminded him of that. Mark’s laughter filled the room, "You pull her brand under Crownwell & Brooks, and not only will sales explode, the old men on your father’s board will have no choice but to acknowledge you.” he added and I smiled. But even as he said it, my mind wandered to that final, elusive woman—the one CEO no one could seem to pin down easily. She had built a brand with ruthless speed, but stayed hidden from the spotlight, a ghost among giants. She's a mystery and the last key to my throne. Am never missing this opportunity.

Knight POV I was staying as a guest at King Cedric Thornhelm's palace in Thornwick Village when Garrick, my right-hand man, entered the room. "My prince," he greeted with a slight bow. "Any news?" "King Cedric has agreed to partner with the King, but on one condition." I looked up at him. "Which is?" I asked. "Weapons would be supplied in exchange for rice," Garrick replied. "Hmm. Very tough man," I said, a small smile tugging at one side of my mouth.

Mission accepted. My jewellery is onyx and silver, dark and glossy against my skin. Finally, Mum places the black crown gently on my head. It’s made of delicate metal vines and onyx stones, shaped to look like it grew right out of the shadows. And it completes me. I don’t just look like a queen—I look like his queen. “You’re absolutely stunning,” Mum says, adjusting the crown like she’s placing it on actual royalty. “Caden’s going to pass out.” “Good,” I smirk. “Let the man suffer.”

she informed while forming the another magic to her. A glazing fire rush to her crown, but it wasn’t effective enough to get really burned. The red pearls on it was trying to turn into a shield for this crown comes from the ritual that keep the strength of their royalty secure. “So, were you really curing the people who are deadly sick?” The woman asked while getting a close pace to her. She suddenly get her crown that she slowly picked all the pearls on it.

Aameris spoke almost in a whisper, but everyone in the room heard him. The three couples kissed, then turned to look at the crowd. Lindaat started to glow, and a crown appeared on her head. Twisted silver and bronze metals looking like a tree being held by silver roots. Around the crown, small diamonds rose, looking almost like trees. When she turned to look at Teleraamon, he had a circlet of the same silver and bronze on his head. Ailive gasped when a crown appeared on her head, with a solid silver band with sapphires around the edges that looked almost like tears. Dakkaath had a circlet of silver with a hint of bronze in it. Xylia smiled brightly at the two, then felt something on her head

“So this is the witch. The very one responsible for the mess in Crownshaven. I must say, I expected… more.” “She was more,” Varen said lazily. “Before I stripped her of every ounce of magic.” Corvin turned to him, “Dominic struggled with her for weeks, and you captured her in a single night? My, my. Perhaps Crownshaven needed new leadership after all.” Varen didn’t reply and just stood there with his arms folded, letting the silence speak for itself. My heart thudded painfully. “He really did it… he actually overthrew Dominic.” I felt sick and immediately dizzy.

“The witch is dead, her blood is gone, my father’s lab is next, we burn it, we break the rest of his work, you get your minds back.” Murmurs. Hope. Draven steps to me, careful. “The crown,” he says. “Can you take it off.” I touch it. It burns. “I don’t know.” “Try,” he says. “For me.” I pull. Pain rips through my skull, and the crown comes away, blood on the tines. It crumbles to ash in my hand. The ferals gasp, some falling, some crying, as if a string got cut.

"Why?" He tilted his head, a motion smooth and wolfish, as though the beast within him had never truly left. His damp hair fell across his brow, shadowing one crimson eye, but even concealed, his beauty was a thing to unmake the world. "Because I am a curse," he said softly through lips that looked carved for both cruelty and tenderness. He seemed too much: too regal, too dangerous, too unearthly for this small, lamplit room. "And those who hunt curses care little for what else burns in their wake."

There were different cliques all paired up in school. Among the boys,we had the most popular Frank Kingston of course,the popular, wealthy, spoilt kid that everyone wanted to be friends with. I still remembered how he humiliated me in fifth grade and said I would end up being poor just like my mother, pompous, spoilt bastard.I became angry anytime I remembered what he did to me in fifth grade. I was angry for many reasons. I was angry because he insulted me and I was angry at myself because I had a huge crush on him. Well, who wouldn't. I was fat and ugly but I had feelings too and I wasn't blind not to notice that Frank Kingston was a tall handsome human with blonde, short hair and brown ey