Liberty

The halls were unfamiliar, and I hated that I didn’t know the way back. I hated the clean air, the smooth stone beneath my feet, hated the cold bite of the chains weighing down my wrists. Each clink of metal sounded too loud in the silence, a reminder that, after a year of slavery in Karnak, I was still a prisoner. Maybe in nicer surroundings, but a prisoner all the same.

I could feel the eyes of the guards watching me. They flanked me on either side, their armor gleaming under the torches that lined the walls, their hands ready at the hilts of their swords. As if I were still a threat. The thought brought a bitter smile to my lips. The Great Thalia Blackwood, was brought low by chains and a year in the mines. How far I had fallen.

But I kept my head high. I might have been shackled, but I wasn’t broken. Not yet.

Captain Marcus Steele walked beside me, his grip on my arm firm but not painful. He had barely spoken since they’d dragged me from the mines, but I’d watched him closely. The way he moved, the way he commanded the guards with a glance—it was all control and precision. He wasn’t the type to let anything slip, wasn’t the type to be easily fooled. I liked that about him, even if I was still deciding whether I liked him at all.

As we turned another corner, I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. His hood cast a shadow over most of his face, but I could see his jaw—clenched, serious. His eyes were sharp, constantly scanning the halls, the guards, me. He didn’t trust me. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t have trusted me either.

But there was something in his silence that set my nerves on edge. A stillness, like a blade waiting to strike. I didn’t know if he saw me as a threat or an inconvenience, and I wasn’t sure which I preferred.

We approached a set of large, ornate doors at the end of the corridor, and my pulse quickened despite myself. I could feel the shift in the air, the weight of what lay beyond those doors. Something important. Something dangerous. It wasn’t fear, exactly—not yet. But it was enough to make my heart beat just a little faster, enough to make me glance again at Marcus’s grip on my arm. His fingers tightened as we reached the doors, but I could tell he wasn’t nervous. Whatever waited inside, he’d seen it before. I hadn’t.

The doors swung open, and I straightened my back, keeping my head high even as my heart pounded in my chest. I wasn’t some cowed slave being paraded before the court. I was Thalia Sardothien. And I would make them remember it.

The throne room was grand, of course. I had expected as much. Golden light flooded the room from the massive windows lining the walls, casting long shadows across the polished marble floor. The ceilings arched high above us, chandeliers glittering like a hundred small suns. It was beautiful in a way that made me sick. This was a room built on the backs of people like me. On the backs of the slaves rotting in karnak. The wealth, the power—it was all a lie.

And there, sitting casually on a throne at the far end of the room, was the Crown Prince himself. Callum Silvermark.

I’d heard of him, of course. Who hadn’t? The young, charming prince with a smile that could make any girl swoon. But I wasn’t any girl. And the moment I saw him, lounging on his throne like he hadn’t a care in the world, I wanted to kill him.

His dark hair was neatly combed, and his fine clothes draped perfectly over his tall, lean frame. He was handsome, in the way princes were supposed to be—arrogant and untouchable. But it was his eyes that caught me off guard. Blue, bright, too bright for someone with his kind of power. They studied me like I was some curious little thing, a toy he hadn’t decided what to do with yet.

His smile was soft, and disarming. “Thalia Blackwood,” he said, his voice smooth and confident, like we were old friends. “At last, we meet.”

I didn’t respond. What could I say that wouldn’t betray how much I hated him? So I just stared, my chin raised high, daring him to underestimate me.

He didn’t seem to mind the silence. If anything, his smile widened. “You’re a lot smaller than I expected,” he mused as if talking to himself.

I could feel Marcus stiffen beside me, but I didn’t give the prince the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, I let a cold, slow smile spread across my face. “I could still kill you,” I said quietly. “With my bare hands.”

Callum's eyes glittered with something like amusement, but there was a flicker of something else too. Something darker. For a moment, I wondered if he believed me.

But before I could think much more on it, another figure emerged from the shadows near the throne. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a permanent sneer etched across his face—Duke Ravencroft. His eyes narrowed as he took me in, and I knew immediately that he was someone I would have to kill eventually. Just looking at him made my skin crawl.

Ravenscroft approached with heavy steps, his gaze lingering on the chains around my wrists. He didn’t bother with niceties. With a swift, brutal motion, he grabbed my arm and yanked me forward, throwing me to the ground at the foot of the throne. "Learn to bow to your prince, young Lady"

The cold marble floor slammed into my knees, pain shooting up my legs, but I didn’t cry out. I wouldn’t give them that. I braced myself with my hands, the chains clattering as they hit the floor, but I stayed down, my heart pounding in my chest, my face inches from the ground. My breath came fast and shallow, but I forced myself to calm. Forced myself to think.

This wasn’t the time. Not yet.

But I’d remember this.

Above me, Callum’s voice was sharp, cutting through the tension like a blade. “That’s enough, Duke,” he said, his earlier amusement gone. “We don’t need to throw her around like some common criminal.”

Ravenscroft didn’t reply, but I could feel his anger radiating from him. Slowly, I pushed myself back to my feet, refusing to look at the duke as I did so. Instead, I focused on Callum, meeting his gaze with a cold defiance. My knees throbbed, my arms ached, but I wouldn’t show weakness.

“Apologies for the rough introduction,” Callum said, his voice smooth again, but there was something harder in his eyes now. “I’ve brought you here for a reason, Thalia Sardothien. You’ve been given an opportunity.”

I raised an eyebrow, waiting.

“You’re going to fight for me,” he continued. “As my champion.”

I couldn’t help the laugh that escaped my throat. “A champion? For a prince?” I shook my head. “What do you want with an assassin?”

Callum leaned back in his throne, his smile returning. “I want someone who knows how to win.”

"It's a deal if you don't wanna remain an assassin forever in the mines" he added coldly

The offer was a game. I could feel it, like the sharp edge of a blade resting just beneath my skin. They thought I was desperate enough to take whatever scrap of hope they dangled in front of me. I was still a prisoner, still shackled, but they were fools if they thought I didn’t see the strings they were pulling.

Callum ’s eyes flicked to mine, watching me too closely. He thought he was clever, offering me this chance like it was some grand favor. Like he was doing me a kindness. But I knew better. He was just like the rest of them—everyone in this wretched court played games, hiding their true motives behind pretty words and empty smiles. And me? I was a piece on their board, a pawn meant to serve their whims.

But pawns had power. I’d been a pawn before, and I’d learned how to play. Pawns could become queens. Queens could topple kings.

Marcus ’s voice broke through my thoughts. “You have a chance to regain what you’ve lost,” he said, his words steady and measured. I glanced at him, expecting the same calculated manipulation I’d come to expect from men in his position. But his eyes… there was something there, something that caught me off guard. He wasn’t trying to manipulate me, and he wasn’t begging me to take the offer either.

It was a choice. A real one.

His words settled in the air, and for a moment, I just stood there, the weight of the chains a dull reminder of everything I’d been through. Regain what I’d lost? Could I? Was this my way out?

A part of me hated it. Hated the idea of doing their bidding, of becoming their weapon. But there was another part of me, a darker, hungrier part, that saw it for what it was—an opportunity. A chance to win my freedom. A chance to fight. To reclaim everything they had taken from me.

The Crown thought they were in control, thought they could use me like some tool. But they didn’t know me. I wasn’t some broken, beaten-down girl to be toyed with. I was Thalia Sardothien. I was an assassin. I had fought my way out of worse places than this.

I could see it all now—the path laid out before me, full of traps and danger, but there. If I played this right, I could win. Not just my freedom, but more. I could turn this whole game on its head. I could make them regret ever thinking they could control me.

“I’ll do it,” I said, my voice steady, the words leaving my lips before I had time to second-guess them.

Callum’s smile widened, smug satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. I wanted to punch it off his pretty face. Marcus gave a small nod, his approval subtle but there. But I wasn’t doing this for them. I was doing it for me.

The flicker of hope that had been dormant for so long sparked to life in my chest. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, I saw a way out. A way forward.

As we turned to leave the throne room, I couldn’t help but glance at Duke Ravencroft. He stood there, watching me with that same smug expression, like he thought he had me all figured out. Like he thought I was already in his pocket. I stared back at him, my eyes cold, promising that whatever he thought was coming, he was wrong. He didn’t know me. He didn’t know the first thing about what I was capable of.

Ravenscroft was dangerous, but he wasn’t the real threat. No. The real danger was the man sitting on the throne far away, the one pulling all the strings. The king. I would have to be careful, smarter than I’d ever been. One wrong move and it was over.

But I wasn’t afraid of playing this game. I’d been doing it for years, long before they threw me into karnak. And I knew how to play it better than any of them.

As I stepped through the doors, the weight of my decision settled heavily on my shoulders. This was only the beginning. The court was full of schemers, full of liars and killers. And now, I was one of them again.

But I was ready. Let them come. Let them think they had the upper hand.

I’d play their game, but I’d do it on my terms. I’d win. I always did.