Mayor's Library

👑 RUTHLESS BOND 👑🔞
{. . . Bloody vow . . . }

By 🌺Mayor🌺

Chapter 77💕78

By 🌺Mayor🌺
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See you all, when I see you all...✍️

ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ
✷HIS WORD✷
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ZARIN

Secrets are never easy to keep, especially one heavy enough to cost a life.

Zarin had always been bullied as a child, mostly because of his hair color. He grew up in a monastery with other foundling children who called him names.

The house they live was poor so most time, the old man who took them in only fed them once a day.

So the kids mostly find a way to survive on their own.

Zarin spent his days alone, studying magic books. Something he had oddly taken an interest in, though he never practiced it.

The first time he saw a real sorcerer, he was five years old. The man had white hair just like his.

Zarin excitedly ran to meet him.

“I have white hair like yours. Does that mean I’m a sorcerer?”

The man looked down at him, his own white hair gleaming.

“Of course,” he said, touching Zarin’s hair gently.

“They are real. The kids bullied me all the time for it. I thought I was a freak until I met you.”

The man nodded. “There are barely a few of us left.”

“Why?”

“Because people no longer believe in magic. Sorcerers like us are meant to serve noble houses and are treated like precious gems. We fight, heal, and conduct research. You are not in the right place, kid. How about you come with me?”

Zarin glanced at the old man who had been taking care of him and the other children, worried he would be sad to see him leave.

“Twelve silver coins,” the old man said.

“Eight is all I have,” the sorcerer replied.

Zarin watched as the white-haired man paid.

“Am I a slave now, sire?” he asked worriedly.

“No. You are my squire, for now. You may call me Lenid.”

Lenid served one of the greatest houses of the West, so he was quite wealthy.

Zarin served Lenid for three years while simultaneously learning sorcery alongside the few other students Lenid taught.

Yet he remained the weakest among them, despite possessing pure white hair—unlike the others, whose hair carried touches of brown, gold, or black.

For that, he was hated. Whether it was out of jealousy or because of his weakness, he didn’t know.

Zarin hated himself for being weak. He nearly gave up and resigned himself to being only a squire, but Lenid wouldn’t allow it.

Whatever Lenid saw in him, Zarin hoped he would one day see it too.

And one day, he did.

One of the older boys crossed the line by attacking a female maid because she refused to spread her legs. Then he tried to cut out Zarin’s tongue so he wouldn’t tell anyone.

Everything after that was a blur.

One moment Zarin was struggling, and the next, the fifteen-year-old boy had melted down to the bone.

The scream of the maid shook the walls.

Zarin thought Lenid would send him back to the poorhouse or sell him to some lord, but instead…

He was led into a secret chamber, where he discovered the truth.

It turned out that he and Lenid had full white hair because they carried the blood of the Xetherin—the strongest sorcerers who had once followed the tyrant rogue king, Sorin. Most believed that bloodline had been wiped out, but a few secretly still survived.

What was even more shocking was that Lenid was a rogue, and Zarin was his son.

“I couldn’t kill you. That was why I left you where I did,” Lenid cried. “I was not supposed to continue our bloodline. It was meant to end with me, but I was careless.”

Zarin couldn’t believe his ears.

The shocking revelation made him run away from home.

At first, he wanted to kill himself. A monster like him shouldn’t live. He knew that if his secret ever broke open, he would either be enslaved or tortured to death.

He walked for miles, drank dirty water, let himself collapse, then woke and kept walking.

For almost a month, he let himself suffer.

Then one day, after collapsing down a small hill and bleeding, he was found. He was treated and fed.

At first, he didn’t know who had saved him, but he could tell the male was a regal Lycan. It was the first time he had encountered one.

From the way the thick tunic clung to his broad frame, Zarin could tell he was no ordinary man.

“What is your name, boy?” the Lycan asked.

“Zarin,” he muttered weakly.

“Zarin what?”

“Uhm… just Zarin.”

“And where are you coming from? It looks like you were trying to get yourself killed.”

Zarin swallowed but explained everything—except the part about being a rogue. He simply said he had run from his master’s house after killing a boy.

The male didn’t look at him like he was a monster.

“I would have done the same thing.”

Those words eased something in Zarin’s chest.

“I would have sent you back, but… Lord Lenid died in battle with rogues three days ago.”

Zarin stiffened in shock.

“Sorry, kid. He was a great male. I saw him fight well until the end,” the Lycan said, crouching down. “Either you become my squire and I treat you well, or I send you back to his household safely. Choose.”

Zarin paused, turning everything over in his young mind.

Going back was the last thing he wanted. The remaining students would likely kill him now that Lenid was no longer there to protect him.

“And who might you be, sire?”

The Lycan stared at him for a long second.

“Lord Theron Ashrendel.”

“You… you are… the Grand Marshal. From the Citadel.”

“Yes, and I am in need of a squire. A sorcerer is my top preference.”

If only he knew what the full white-haired bloodline truly meant.

Zarin swallowed in fear. He was staring at one of the most powerful Lycans in the realm, known for his beastly skills.

But still… it felt like a chance.

Becoming Theron’s squire and helping him with missions wasn’t terrible. Though Zarin wished he had never learned what he truly was, he hoped he could at least do something great. That way, when his secret eventually came out, he wouldn’t simply be branded a rogue.

Afraid he might lose control and kill someone again, Zarin locked most of his magic away with a sacred spell, swearing never to release it.

Or it would lead to his exposure.

Until recently.

He broke that sacred promise to himself—all because of one male. And not only that…

He discovered there was another rogue in the Citadel.

That was the only explanation for why Lord Theron hated and rejected his own mate, and held back from confessing to the prince.

Why Eryndra had healed without an antidote.

Why he could hear her scream that night.

Why the Nightling had gone to her.

The prince was already suspicious, and if he found out by any chance, Eryndra would be tortured—and Zarin would be affected too…

Because somehow, Eryndra’s bloodline commanded his own.

And that… he was going to find out.

What connection they both shared.

~~~~~~

“What are you doing here?”

Zarin’s head whipped toward the entrance, his heart leaping into his throat.

“Lord Jerik. How… how long have you been standing there?”

Jerik stepped further into the room, his gaze narrowing first at Zarin’s cloak, then at the way he shifted on his feet, and finally at his face.

“Why are you here?” He sniffed the air and glanced at the fire. “Are you burning something?”

Zarin bit his lower lip.

S**t.

Jerik stepped closer, his tall frame towering over him.

“You never visited after I woke up. Are you avoiding me now?”

“I was… busy.”

“Hm.”

The firelight cast a warm glow across his handsome face. His eyes looked tired, likely from the long travels and endless affairs of state.

“I heard your voice,” Jerik muttered. “While it felt like I was dying, I heard you call my name. My name.”

“You must have heard wrong—”

“You were there,” Jerik cut in, his voice firmer. “The healer said the antidote was already in my system before they arrived. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“No.” Zarin’s response was too quick. It made Jerik frown.

“What’s the point of lying, Zarin? I know you’re the only one who could have found me before the healers did. I simply want to know how you managed it. That rogue gave us only two vials—one for Brielle and the other for Eryndra. How was there a spare for me?”

“What’s the point of asking? You’re fine. That’s what matters.”

“Another person could get hurt. I just want to know how you did it.”

“I must leave. Lord Theron is waiting for me.”

He didn’t even take a second step before Jerik dragged him back and pinned him against the wall.

“You’re dressed like that, sneaking into this abandoned chamber because you know something. Something that involves my poisoning. You know who did it. I’d bet my entire fortune it was Hank.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need answers. I’m confused, and I need you to spill the fu***ng truth. Hank disappeared, okay? And I mysteriously healed. Tell me something, Zarin, before I go crazy.”

Zarin swallowed, unable to speak.

“You want me to force it out of you?” Jerik raised a brow, his finger slowly snaked his neck, his lips dangerously close to the corner of his own.

He could feel his breath on his face, triggering that buried emotion.

"I have several ways to make you talk. Should I start, Riri?"

F**k, it's been long he heard that name.

“No!” Zarin breath stuttered. “I mean… I am investigating.”

Jerik's second hand slipped beneath the cloak. Zarin's breath stuttered.

“More like you’re hiding something…”

“Fine!” Zarin groaned, snatching himself away. Jerik smirked but it disappeared quickly when he confessed.

“I… I killed Hank.”

For a moment, the room went silent.

“What?”

Zarin bit his tongue.

"You beat that broad male who bullies you? How did you..."

“I’ve been practicing a lot lately, and I got a little stronger," it wasn't a lie nor the truth. "I was mad that he poisoned you… He wanted to kill me as well. It was self-defense.”

Jerik’s shoulder slumped. Jaw slacked.

"That's... Unbelievable. And the antidote?”

“I was able to create it. I never stopped working on it, and I didn’t know it would actually work.”

Jerik’s gaze softened.

“You… saved my life.”

“You’re welcome, my lord.” Zarin mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

Jerik glanced at the fire. “And you must be burning something that could link you to killing Hank. Don’t worry. I’ll protect your secret.”

~~~~~~

“Here, Milady.” Jasmira pulled out a dark-covered book from her dress and handed it to Eryndra.

“No one saw you?”

“Not at all.”

Eryndra gave her a small smile. Jasmira had been the closest maid she'd noticed since arriving here.

They didn’t talk much, but after what happened, the maid had begun doing everything for her, and Eryndra found herself allowing it.

“Thank you, Mira.”

“Anytime.”

Something brushed against Eryndra’s feet. She glanced down and saw a familiar white cat.

“Oh my. You have a cat now? It’s adorable.”

“It is not mine,” Eryndra muttered flatly before lifting her gaze toward Jasmira. “I think you were followed.”

“By a cat?”

“By...” Eryndra looked past her. “Him.”

The maid’s smile vanished instantly as the presence settled behind her.

Color drained from her face the moment she turned.

“My Lord.” She dropped to her knees quickly. “Forgive me. I didn't mean to steal from the library.”

“Leave,” Theron ordered.

Jasmira immediately scurried away.

Then his gaze shifted toward Eryndra as she picked up the cat.

“Axe is fragile,” she murmured. “You shouldn't let her sneak up on people. She could get hurt.”

She stretched the cat toward him.

“I thought you might need some company.”

She raised a brow.

“The last time I tried holding Axe, you nearly bit my head off. Now you're offering her to me?”

He fell silent for a moment before clearing his throat.

"What book are you reading?"

"About rogues. I want truly know myself. I owe myself that"

His jaw flexed at the word 'rogues' so he quickly changed the topic.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better as the days pass,” she replied softly, scratching beneath the cat’s chin.

One would think she was fine.

But she wasn’t.

The fire in her eyes no longer burned as fiercely as before. They had become distant and unreadable.

“I never got to thank you,” she said quietly. “For saving me that night.”

Again—

Theron found himself unable to answer properly.

“Are you not going to say something?” she asked. “I'm certain you came here for a reason.”

He exhaled slowly.

“I came to see if you were alright.”

“I am.”

“Are you?”

She tilted her head slightly.

“If you doubt my answer, then why ask?”

Theron stepped closer, lifting a hand to stroke the cat in her arms. His gaze locked with hers, those ocean-blue eyes staring back at him blankly. Wind swept strands of silver hair across her face, and for a dangerous second—

He wanted to tuck them away.

But the memory of her tear-stained face killed the urge instantly.

“I've come to break my word.”

She said nothing, silently waiting.

“I've decided to let you become queen.” His voice lowered. “I'll allow the marriage to happen. And I will say nothing about your secret.”

The world between them went silent.

He watched her pupils slowly dilate, as though the ground itself had shifted beneath her feet.

Axe meowed softly as Eryndra’s hold tightened around her. Slowly, she lowered the cat to the ground.

Her fingers trembled faintly.

“Why?” Her voice cracked slightly. “Why would you suddenly go back on your word? You were so determined to stop this. So why now?”

The truth was—

He had been asking himself the same thing over and over again.

Yet he still had no answer.

“Isn't this what you wanted?” he asked quietly. “You wanted to become queen. I no longer wish to stand in your way.”

A bitter smile touched her lips.

“Yes. Once. But that was before you showed me the truth.”

Theron frowned slightly.

“The truth about what I am. About this realm.” Her lips trembled faintly. “I'm nothing but a miserable mistake who should not even be alive right now. You made me understand that, Theron.”

Her words settled like a sword digging somewhere into his chest.

“Tarianne...”

“Don't take back your promise,” she cut in softly. “You should end me like you said you would or perhaps I'll simply do it myself.”

His expression darkened instantly.

His hand wrapped firmly around her arm before she could move away.

“No, you won't.” he said. “You know what the Moon Goddess does to souls who take their own lives.”

“The Pit of Fire?” A hollow laugh escaped her. “This already feels no different. And marrying him would be worse.”

Theron’s jaw clenched.

“Besides…” she continued bitterly, “I don't even need to kill myself. I could simply say the right words to the prince and let him slit my throat himself.”

“You don't mean that.”

“Oh, I do.” Her gaze sharpened. “I know exactly what words would make him do it.”

“The realm is already unstable,” Theron said, voice roughening. “If the throne fractures now, if the noble houses divide, we lose this war.” His eyes held hers intensely. “People will die, Tarianne. Thousands.”

He moved closer, hands settling carefully on her shoulders.

“I'll protect you,” he said quietly. “I'll keep your secret buried and make sure no harm comes to you. Even from the prince.”

A scoff escaped her lips.

“So that's all this is?” she whispered bitterly. “For the sake of the realm? You know what I am and what we've done and you still want to throw me into his arms.”

“It doesn't matter what you are,” he muttered. “I don't want you to die anymore.”

Her expression shifted at those words.

“You agreed to the honing,” she whispered. “And now all I see in your eyes is pity.”

She yanked herself from his hold.

Then slowly—

She nodded.

“Fine. I'll marry the prince.”

Theron’s shoulders subtly loosened in relief. But his beast did not, because he instantly imagine the Kallias arms around Eryndra whispering the vows.

Or perhaps it was the look in her eyes that felt wrong.

“However…” she murmured softly.

Her eyes cold.

“I'm going to kill him once I do.”

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