The Proposition

“In case everything I said didn’t make sense to you earlier, Thalia Blackwood,” the Prince knocked me out of my thoughts.

I stood back there, shackled and filthy, trying to ignore the way my wrists burned where the chains rubbed against raw skin. I didn’t have time to dwell on the pain. Not with *him* staring at me like that. Callum Silvermark, Crown Prince of Kyrador. His sapphire-blue eyes were fixed on me, cold and calculating.

A prince was supposed to be ugly, cruel, and unworthy of his crown. But no—this one dared to be both royal and beautiful. *How unfair*. It was almost enough to make me laugh. Almost.

He stood there, impossibly tall, his dark hair falling perfectly into place as though every strand knew its duty. He wore the air of royalty like a cloak—confidence, power, and ease all rolled into one. As I shifted uncomfortably, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of shame at the contrast between us. My hair, once glorious and golden, was now filthy and tangled. My skin, once glowing, was pale and scarred, and my clothes... well, if they could even be called clothes anymore.

Callum’s gaze flicked to Marcus, who stood at my side. “I thought I asked you to clean her,” he said, his tone sharp with disapproval.

My eyes narrowed as I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection of a nearby window. Golden flecks still circled my pupils, the color of my eyes changing subtly with the light, a lingering reminder of the girl I had been before Karnak. But now, all I could see was a stranger, ragged and hollow.

“I’m Callum Silvermark,” the prince said, pulling my attention back to him. “Crown Prince of Kyrador . Perhaps now, Crown Prince of most of Lumaria .”

I clenched my teeth. His name alone stirred a surge of bitterness in me, but I shoved it down, forcing a smile to my lips. *Charming*—I could still be charming, even after a year of hell.

“You seem... surprisingly alive,” Callum remarked, his eyes assessing me. “After a year in the mines, most people are—well, dead. But here you are.”

I straightened my back, adjusting my shackles as if they were lace gloves. “Quite a mystery, I’m sure,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.

Callum raised an eyebrow, amused. “She has a tongue on her, doesn’t she?” he said to Marcus, not bothering to hide his grin. “And she doesn’t sound like the usual rabble.”

“I should hope not!” I interjected before Marcus could answer. If they thought I’d been reduced to some mindless slave, they were wrong.

Callum’s eyes glimmered with curiosity. “And you never tried to escape?”

I smiled, letting the memory flash briefly in my mind. “Once.”

Marcus tensed beside me, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was headed. “She got three feet,” he said flatly.

“Three feet,” I muttered under my breath. “Could’ve been more if your men weren’t so persistent.”

The room grew quiet as Callum studied me. His eyes flicked over my form again, and this time, they lingered on the scars visible beneath my torn clothing. “Do you bear many scars?” he asked softly.

My chest tightened, the memories clawing at me. The lashes, the burns, the endless beatings. “Yes,” I answered through gritted teeth, hating how vulnerable that single word made me feel.

Callum stepped closer, his expression unreadable as he inspected me, a shadow of pity crossing his face. “And what a terrible stench, too.”

My jaw clenched at the insult. “When one doesn’t have access to a bath and perfume, I suppose one cannot smell as finely as you, Your Highness,” I shot back, heat rising to my cheeks.

Marcus moved quickly, pulling me back a step. “Watch your mouth before I throw you back into the mines,” he growled.

I smirked, undeterred. “Oh, I don’t think you’d do that.”

A silence fell between us, thick with tension, until Callum finally spoke again, his eyes alight with something I couldn’t quite place. “I have a proposition for you.”

I stiffened, a strange sensation gripping my chest. My mind raced. This was it, wasn’t it? Whatever game he was playing, this was the moment he’d lay down his cards. Freedom, or something close to it, dangled just out of reach.

“I’m listening,” I said, my heart pounding in my chest. Who the hell does he think I am, deaf? or I cannot hear him once?

Callum’s smile widened. “My father needs a Champion—someone to fight for him, to... assist with some delicate matters.”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “someone to do his dirty work?”

Callum leaned back slightly, still smiling. “Something like that.”

Marcus frowned, clearly uncomfortable with where this was heading, but I ignored him. My mind was spinning, calculating the possibilities. Could this be my way out? Could I use this, twist it to my advantage?

“What’s in it for me?” I asked again, my voice cold and sharp.

Callum’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he almost looked sincere. “If you win, you’ll be free.” he repeated what he said earlier.

Free. The word echoed in my mind, sweet and tantalizing. It was what I wanted, what I’d dreamed of every night since being thrown into Karnak. But I knew better than to trust easily.

“And what if I don’t win?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Callum’s smile faded. “Then you’ll die.”

I met his gaze head-on, unflinching. “I’ve survived worse.”

The room fell silent again, the weight of his proposition settling heavily in the air. This was my chance—my one chance to get out of this hellhole. But the stakes were high. Too high.

Still, I wasn’t one to back down from a challenge.

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

Callum’s smile returned, full of satisfaction. He thought he had me, thought I’d just fallen neatly into his plan. But he didn’t know me. Not yet.

I would play their game. But I would play it on my terms.