Kyrador's Assassin

The cold stone beneath me was hard, but that discomfort was nothing compared to the tension hanging in the room. My wrists burned where the chains dug into them, but I held my chin high, refusing to show any weakness. Callum Silvermark stood before me, as infuriatingly handsome as any prince had the right to be. Dark hair, perfect posture, those irritatingly beautiful sapphire eyes that sparkled with amusement as if he had the entire world in his palm. Maybe he did. But I wasn’t part of that world anymore. I had been dragged out of it, dirt and scars marking the distance between who I was and who I had become.

“As quiet as the grave,” I said, my voice sharp with sarcasm, meeting his gaze with a mocking smile.

Callum’s lips twitched as though he might smile, but he didn’t. Instead, he gave me that look—the one that made it clear he knew he had power here. He always would, standing in his silks and gold, untouched by the grime of Karnak.

“Quiet, yes,” he said softly, taking a step closer, the scent of something faintly floral and rich on his clothes. “But not without life.”

I snorted, pulling at my shackles just enough to remind them—and myself—that I was not yet free. “Life? Is that what you call this?” I gestured to the chains, the hollow look of my cheeks, and the dirt that clung to my skin like a second layer.

His smile faded slightly, but his eyes remained locked on mine. “I’m offering you more than this, Thalia.”

*More than this?* I wanted to laugh, wanted to spit at the idea that any offer from him could ever be genuine. But I couldn’t deny the way his words made my heart race, couldn’t ignore the flicker of hope that I tried desperately to snuff out.

“Freedom, after six years of service to the Crown,” he said, as if the offer was a golden gift wrapped in a bow. “Serve my father, fight for your freedom, and then walk away from all of this.”

“Six years?” The word flew from my lips before I could stop it, and I cursed myself for sounding shocked. But six years... *six years*. My heart pounded. Could I survive that long? Could I be free in six years?

Freedom. That word lingered in my mind, swirling with the images of a life beyond Karnak. I had long stopped dreaming about it.

“Yes, six years,” Callum repeated, watching me closely. “Or...”

“Or I rot here.” I finished for him, my voice low, laced with the bitterness that had been festering inside me since the moment I was thrown into the mines. My shackles clinked softly as I adjusted my wrists. “You could always leave me to die.”

His smile disappeared entirely, and something like regret flickered across his face. “Karnak will kill you long before that happens.”

I met his gaze, feeling the weight of the decision pressing down on me. Six years or death. That was my choice.

“Of course,” he continued, his voice softening, “there’s a catch.”

I arched an eyebrow, feeling the tension in my muscles coil tighter. There was always a catch. “What catch?” I asked.

Callum toyed with a ring on his finger, turning it over thoughtfully. “The king is hosting a competition. Twenty-three members of the council will sponsor a Champion to train and compete for the title of Kyrador ’s Assassin. You would represent me.”

I blinked, the word *Champion* sinking into my mind like a stone. “So, I’m to be your lackey, then? The Crown’s pet murderer?”

Callum’s smile returned, though there was no warmth in it. “Hardly. You’ll be competing against thieves, assassins, and warriors from across Lumaria . If you win, you’ll be my father’s Champion. If you lose...”

“I go back to Karnak,” I finished, the bitterness thick in my voice.

He nodded. “Yes.”

I bit back my frustration, my thoughts swirling with the enormity of what he was saying. “Who exactly are my competitors?” I asked, my curiosity sharpening.

Callum’s eyes gleamed with amusement. “They are... formidable. Some of the best in Lumaria .”

A knot twisted in my stomach, but I forced myself to keep my face neutral. *Formidable*. Of course they would be. “And what makes you think I’m not the best?” I asked, my tone sharper than I intended.

He shrugged, still smiling. “I have no doubt you’re dangerous, but you won’t be competing under your own name.”

I frowned, confusion flickering through me. “What?”

“You’ll compete under an alias,” he explained, watching me closely. “No one can know who you really are.”

Anger flared in my chest, and I clenched my hands into fists. “Why? Afraid of what your father’s court would think if they knew they were scared of a girl?”

Callum’s smile vanished. “Your reputation precedes you, Thalia. It was kept quiet after your capture for a reason. No one can know the truth.”

I clenched my teeth, trying to push back the flood of anger that was rising in me. “And what does everyone think? Who do they believe Kyrador ’s Assassin is?”

His eyes softened slightly, though his voice remained firm. “They believe you’re a myth. A ghost in the shadows. And for now, it’s better that way.”

I crossed my arms, feeling my pride sting. *A myth?* That’s what I had been reduced to. A whisper, a name with no face. “And you expect me to fight for you? To play in your little game?”

Callum’s eyes darkened as he leaned forward. “I expect you to win.”

There was something in his tone that made my skin prickle, a seriousness that wasn’t there before. He was giving me an opportunity—a chance at freedom. But at what cost?

I stared at him, my heart pounding. “And if I don’t win?”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t look away. “Then you’ll go back to Karnak. For the remainder of your sentence.”

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I swallowed hard, my throat tight with the memories of the mines—the darkness, the stench of death, the weight of the chains. Another year in that hell would kill me.

“I might as well jump from the window,” I muttered, my voice low. “A year in Karnak has already worn me thin.”

Callum’s gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained firm. “This is your chance, Thalia. Take it, and you could be free.”

I glanced at Marcus, who had remained silent throughout the entire conversation. His eyes met mine, and I saw something there—an unspoken understanding, perhaps even sympathy. He didn’t agree with this, but he wasn’t going to stop it, either.

“I’ll fight for you,” I said finally, turning my attention back to Callum. “But I want three years, not six.”

Callum arched an eyebrow, clearly surprised by my boldness. “Three?”

“I’ll be your Champion for three years,” I said firmly. “Then I want my freedom.”

Callum hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Four.”

I met his gaze, considering the offer. Four years was still too long, but it was better than six. “Fine. It’s a bargain.”

He smiled, but there was a darkness in it, a reminder that I was still very much his pawn in this game. “I’ll see to it that my father knows.”

A bitter laugh escaped me as I shook my head. “One form of slavery for another.”

Callum didn’t respond. Instead, he turned to Marcus. “Take her to her rooms. She’ll need to be prepared for the journey to Rifthold. We leave tomorrow.”

Marcus nodded, motioning for me to follow. But before I did, I glanced at Callum one last time.

“Don’t disappoint me, Blackwood,” he said softly, his voice a dangerous purr. “I anticipate winning, and I won’t be pleased if you make me look foolish.”

I smirked, the fire of defiance burning in my chest. “You have no idea what I’m capable of, Your Highness.”

As Marcus led me away, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of my decision pressing down on me. I had agreed to be their pawn, to fight for a chance at freedom. But this was only the beginning. The game had just started, and I would play it on my terms.

*Freedom*, I thought, the word echoing in my mind as I allowed myself to imagine the life I could have.

For the first time in a year, I felt the spark of hope.