Chapter 3: The Prisoner’s Ultimatum
964 Words
Sophia awoke to the stench of blood and smoke.
She lay on damp straw in a cellar, wrists bound in front this time, a cold iron chain bolted to the wall. The remnants of her bridal gown clung to her like wilted petals. Her throat was raw, her skin sticky with ash.
A man sat across from her, ink-stained fingers tapping a ledger.
“You're finally awake," he muttered, not looking up. “Good. Sign this."
Sophia blinked. “Who are you?"
“The scribe. Don't worry, I'm not here to beat you. Just need your confession."
He slid a scroll forward.
**Confession of Voluntary Abdication of Imperial Marriage Contract**
—Signed: Sophia Nightveil
Her lips curled. “You think I'll agree to this?"
“I don't think anything. I'm paid to write. You sign, I get lunch. We both win."
She stared at the inked line waiting for her name.
Then back at the scribe. “What happens if I refuse?"
He shrugged. “They say… execution. Treason. All the usual things nobles whisper when they want you dead but respectable."
“I'm not noble."
He looked up then. “Exactly."
The door creaked open.
Bootsteps. Cold wind.
Sophia didn't need to look to know who it was.
Arthur.
He stepped inside, now draped in navy military garb, polished boots flecked with soot.
“You let her speak?" he asked the scribe.
“She hasn't signed."
Arthur waved him off. The scribe scurried out, leaving scroll and ink behind.
The prince circled her slowly.
“I had hoped you'd be reasonable," he said. “But I forgot what Nightblade women are like."
Sophia met his eyes. “You've never seen one before me."
“I've read your file. Distant. Quiet. Obedient." His gaze narrowed. “What changed?"
“Maybe I finally saw what I was obeying."
Arthur crouched before her, expression unreadable.
“You think you've been wronged. That I stole your future." He leaned in. “I spared you."
She let out a bitter laugh. “From what? A life of dignity? A name?"
“You were a tool, Sophia. You should've stayed dull."
She didn't flinch.
“I won't sign your lie," she said.
Arthur straightened. “Then I'll make you choose."
He turned to the door. “Bring him in."
The guard returned dragging a limp, bloodied man by the arms.
Caesar.
Sophia's breath caught.
His cloak was gone. Cuts slashed across his chest. His silver eyes were dull, one nearly swollen shut. Iron shackles clamped both wrists.
Arthur dropped into a chair across from them and folded his hands.
“I caught him circling the manor after the fire. Loyal dog, isn't he?"
Sophia's voice trembled. “You hurt him."
“He made a mess. Burned half my estate. But I'll admit, he fights well. Bleeds better."
Caesar groaned faintly.
Arthur tilted his head at Sophia. “Now here's the offer. Sign the confession, and he lives. Both of you vanish. New names, new borders. No trial, no heads on pikes."
She looked at Caesar, blood streaking his jaw, breath shallow.
“And if I don't?" she whispered.
Arthur stood. “Then I drag him into court. Brand him a traitor. And you?" He leaned close. “You become a public lesson."
Sophia stared down at the scroll.
Her hands clenched.
“I'll need ink," she murmured.
Arthur smiled. “Good girl."
He turned his back.
Big mistake.
Caesar moved first.
With a snarl, he twisted violently, breaking free from the guard's hold. The iron chain caught the man's neck in a brutal arc, slamming him into the stone.
Sophia surged up, grabbing the inkpot and hurling it at Arthur's face. He ducked, roaring, just as Caesar tackled another guard.
“Run!" Caesar barked.
Sophia darted for the door.
Outside, shouts rang through the hall. Smoke crept in again—thicker this time.
An explosion rocked the ceiling. Dust fell like ash.
“What did you do?" she cried.
Caesar appeared beside her, panting. “Set charges before I got caught."
“You were captured on purpose?"
He yanked her into motion. “You're not the only one who can plan."
They sprinted down a stairwell, avoiding collapsing beams and coughing guards.
“Where are we going?" she asked.
“To the edge," Caesar said. “Storm tunnel under the east wing."
The corridor narrowed. Arrows pinged off the stone as guards chased behind.
“Faster!" he yelled.
They burst into a tunnel slick with moss and steam. Metal grated underfoot. Cold wind howled from the exit ahead.
Caesar shoved open a rusted gate and pulled her through. Behind them, flames licked the manor's rear wing.
They didn't stop running until the cliffs swallowed the sound.
---
Night blanketed the sky.
They collapsed near a ridge overlooking the northern wilds. Sophia's knees buckled. Caesar caught her, arms trembling.
“You're insane," she gasped.
“Takes one to know one."
“You could've died."
He looked down at her, eyes still bruised but burning now with something steady.
“And you'd still be in chains."
She opened her mouth. No words came.
Only silence.
Caesar's hand moved to her throat. Not in violence—but reverence. He touched the faint scar his bite had left.
“It was the only way to void Arthur's claim," he said. “I marked you. Made you mine. So he couldn't."
Sophia shivered.
“That wasn't your choice to make."
He didn't argue.
Instead, he dropped his hand.
“You're free now," he said quietly. “When you can stand… you can leave."
Sophia stared at him, pulse thudding in her ears.
But when she tried to speak, nothing came.
Just a ragged breath—and the terrifying realization:
She couldn't speak at all.
- Writer
