Chapter 188

Chapter 188
Lina's POV

"Who?"

"Marian Taylor. My mother. Your...mistress."

Understanding flickered across his features. "Oh, Marian...of course I remember. She was my...favorite." The word fell with casual dismissal, like discussing a preferred wine.

A sharp smile touched my lips. "Your favorite? Then why did you never stay the night in her cottage? Why did you refuse to hire a healer when she was dying? Why didn't you even give her a gravestone?"

His eyes darted away. "I was busy with family affairs, I...I had no choice..."

I reached into my sleeve and withdrew a blank parchment marked with elven blood contract sigils that seemed to writhe in the dim light. "I didn't come to hear your excuses. I want you to do one thing."

Horace fixated on the parchment. "What is it?"

"Write a blood contract release. Free Marian Taylor's soul from your bloodline. If you do, I'll plead with the Dragon King to spare your life."

Greed flickered in his eyes, tempered by suspicion. "Marian is dead. What's the point of releasing the contract? And...can you really persuade the Dragon King to spare me?"

My hand drifted to my abdomen. "She's dead, but her soul is still bound to your bloodline, unable to rest. You don't deserve to be her bond. She couldn't escape you in life; she must be free of you in death. As for the Dragon King...I'm carrying his child. He'll listen to me."

After weighing his options, he asked cunningly, "Why not just have the Dragon King issue a decree? With his power, it's a simple command."

My smile grew colder. "Because I want you to write it yourself. I want you to willingly release Mother. I want you to admit that you never truly loved her, that she was nothing but a passing fancy to you."

Something shifted in his expression. "You're not like my daughter...House Valerian has no one so stubborn."

"I wish I weren't your daughter either. In your eyes, I was always the extra one—a filthy half-blood born of a human woman, only useful as a scapegoat when you needed one."

His face flushed with anger. "Enough! Who do you think you are? A Dragon King's plaything dares to—"

I turned toward the door. The effect was instantaneous—panic flooded his features as he lunged forward, chains clanking frantically. "Wait! Wait! I'll write it! I'll write it, all right?!"

I paused without turning, letting silence stretch before facing him again.

With trembling hands, Horace accepted the parchment and knelt on the filthy floor. He bit his finger until blood welled up, dark drops falling onto the pale surface. As he wrote in ancient elven script, his blood glowed with inner light, the magical sigils responding.

"I, Horace Valerian, by the bond of blood, willingly release Marian Taylor's soul from my bloodline, granting her eternal freedom..."

When finished, the parchment pulsed once with ethereal light. I accepted it with steady hands, reading through each line twice before folding it securely against my heart. Something shifted in the air—bonds finally broken.

Taking a deep breath, I met his expectant gaze. "Marian Taylor is now free of you. Even in death, you will never find her again."

The words "in death" hung between us like a suspended sword. I watched comprehension dawn across his features, hope curdling into horrified understanding.

"What...what did you just say? In death? Lina, you promised to plead for me! You can't go back on your word!"

A bitter laugh escaped me. "You actually believed that? I wish you could be drawn and quartered. Why would I ever plead for you? You deceived Mother and me so cruelly. I just wanted you to taste betrayal before you die."

Horace transformed from desperate hope to absolute despair. "You wretched girl! You dare deceive me?!"

"I deceived you? What right do you have to accuse me? You lured Mother into that broken cottage, promised to marry her but never did. You sent me to the Citadel, claiming it was 'atonement for the family,' when really you were trading my life for your title! You're a coward who clings to life without dignity. You're not worthy of Mother's devotion!"

His face contorted with rage, all pretense stripped away. "Even if I die, I'll kill you first, you bastard half-blood!"

The attack came with desperate fury. Despite his chains, Horace launched himself at me with surprising force, his weight crashing into me and sending us both tumbling to the stone floor. Instinct took over as I wrapped my arms protectively around my abdomen, my shoulder striking the ground with bruising force.

Above me, Horace raised his leg, the heavy shackle adding deadly weight. The first kick missed, catching my shoulder. The second grazed my forearm, tearing fabric and skin. As his foot rose for the third attempt, aimed directly at my abdomen, darkness closed in from the edges of my vision.

The last thing I saw was the twisted mask of rage that had replaced his face, and then consciousness fled into merciful oblivion.