Chapter 14

I stepped forward once more, raising my hand to command the attention of the roaring crowd. Their cheers still echoed through the arena, but I knew that what I was about to say would require their utmost focus.

“Citizens,” I called out, my voice carrying across the vast expanse. “Before I take my leave, I have an announcement to make. And I may need your support. Are you willing to help me?”

The response was deafening. The people erupted into chants, their voices blending into an overwhelming roar of enthusiasm and devotion. I had to raise my hand again, motioning for silence, before I could continue.

Taking a deep breath, I straightened my posture and looked directly at the gathered masses. Then, with unwavering conviction, I spoke the words that would forever bind me to my duty.

“I, Asher Vaelthorn, seventh child of King Vaelthorn of Aldrenor, pledge my eternal life as the shield of the throne—the guardian of the King of Aldrenor. I swear my unwavering loyalty and faithfulness. If I ever dare to think of betraying the King or the throne, then may the Goddess strike me down and take my life at once.”

I took a step forward, voice rising with raw emotion.

“I SWEAR THIS IN FRONT OF EVERYONE PRESENT HERE!”

To emphasize my oath, I took an arrowhead from my quiver, gripping it tightly in my fist. With one swift motion, I sliced across my palm, splitting the skin open. Blood welled up instantly, dripping from my fingers as I raised my hand high for all to see.

A stunned silence fell over the crowd. Thousands of eyes watched in shock as the crimson streaks ran down my wrist. They knew what this meant. Blood oaths were sacred—binding in body, mind, and soul. I had sealed my fate, sworn my life to this duty in a way that no mere words could undo.

Then, as if ignited by a spark, the arena erupted. The people roared with fervor, their voices merging into one overwhelming chant.

“LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE THE QUEEN!”

The sound was deafening, shaking the very air with its force. People raised their hands, some pounding their fists against their chests in respect, others raising banners and flags. The energy was unlike anything I had ever felt before—powerful, unwavering, absolute.

My gaze shifted toward the royal platform, where my family stood. My father, the King, watched me with an unreadable expression, his sharp gaze piercing through the chaos. My elder brothers and sisters stood beside him, some clapping, others nodding in silent approval. And then—my mother.

The moment my eyes met hers, my blood ran cold.

She wasn’t clapping. She wasn’t smiling.

Her piercing gaze locked onto me, and for the first time in my life, I felt true fear.

I went white as a sheet.

Without wasting another second, I hastily retrieved my arrows, slung my bow over my shoulder, and turned on my heel. Then, as quickly as my legs could carry me, I ran from the arena.

I could hear laughter behind me—some from my siblings, some from nobles who had clearly witnessed my panic. But I didn’t stop. I sprinted through the halls of the palace, my heart pounding harder than it had during the tournament.

Within minutes, I reached the dining hall. I paused just outside the massive wooden doors, catching my breath, trying to steady myself.

I was ready to face the storm.

Or at least, I told myself I was.

Taking one last deep breath, I pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

As soon as I stepped into the dining hall, a maid rushed toward me, her face filled with concern. She gently took my injured hand and quickly wrapped it in clean linen, stopping the bleeding. I gave her a small nod of gratitude before making my way to my usual seat.

I sat down, exhaling deeply, and signaled for breakfast to be served. The moment the food arrived, I wasted no time. I ate quickly, my mind racing with an escape plan. If I left now, perhaps my mother would have time to cool down before she saw me again.

But fate had other plans.

Just as I was about to make my swift exit, I ran straight into her.

I stumbled backward, struggling to regain my balance, but before I could steady myself—SLAP!

A sharp sting spread across my cheek.

I instinctively placed a hand on my face, looking up in shock to meet my mother’s furious gaze.

She was livid.

Without a word, she gestured for someone to step forward. From behind her, a man emerged—the royal mage.

I swallowed hard. This was not going to end well.

The mage silently took my injured hand, unwrapped the bloodied cloth, and chanted a healing spell. A soft glow enveloped my palm, and within moments, the wound was gone as if it had never been there.

The moment he stepped back, my mother wasted no time.

SLAP!

A second blow landed on my other cheek, and I barely managed to keep my footing.

Then, she let loose.

“Was such a big slash necessary for the blood oath? Tell me! Couldn’t you have just used a single drop of blood? How much blood did you waste? Answer me!”

“I ... I’m sorry, Mother,” I muttered, keeping my head down.

“Sorry?! Now you say sorry?” she snapped, her voice rising. “What if something had happened to you? Did you even consider that? Did you stop for even a moment to think about how I would feel?!”

Her words stung more than the slaps.

She wasn’t just angry—she was terrified.

I could see it in her eyes, the deep worry, the fear of losing me. She kept scolding me, her voice thick with emotion, and I had no defense. I simply stood there and listened.