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She sits on a wooden chair, wrists still shackled together by a short chain. Her dark hair—tangled, with streaks of dried blood—frames a face set in stubborn lines. Storm-gray eyes snap to me the moment I enter, narrowing in open hostility. I note the freshbruise on her cheek, the tension in her posture. The remains of a meal rest on the table nearby.

I shut the door behind me and move a few steps closer. “You’re awake.”

She snorts. “Hard to sleep when you expect a blade at your throat any second.”

I arch a brow, crossing my arms. “You’re at my mercy. If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

Her gaze flicks to the walls. “Maybe you enjoy the game too much to end it quickly.”

I don’t deny it. She’s not entirely wrong. “How are your wounds?” I ask, letting my eyes travel over her bruises. I note the scab on her forearm, and the stiffness in her left shoulder.

A bitter laugh escapes her. “Aw, so concerned. I’m touched.”

“You can be stubborn all you like. It won’t expedite your release.” I keep my voice quiet, measured, stepping around the table to stand opposite her.

She shakes her head, dark hair brushing her collarbone. “Release isn’t on the table, is it?”

“Perhaps.” My answer is intentionally vague. “Depends on your cooperation.”

She leans forward, manacles clanking. “Let me guess: you want the locations of any other rebel groups, details on how we coordinated our attacks, the names of my allies. Once you have that, you’ll kill me.” There’s no tremor in her voice, just cold anger.

I consider her words. “That’s what the council expects me to do.”

“Then why hesitate?” she demands, eyes narrowing. “Finish the job—like the rest of your kind would.”

I clasp my hands behind my back. “I don’t consider myself quite like the rest of my kind.”

Her gaze flicks over my arms, possibly noting the silver sigils. She’s sharp enough to guess I’m nobility. “You’re still a Dark Elf, still their prince.”

“An exiled prince,” I remind her, letting a hint of steel enter my tone. “Removed from my rightful position. I’m here as a matter of… necessity.”

She tilts her head, curiosity flickering across her features. “Exiled for what?”

A smile ghosts across my lips. “Disagreements with the council. Let’s leave it at that.”

She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re not as powerful as you pretend.”

That stings, though I refuse to show it. “Power can take many forms, Lysandra. The council’s brand of authority relies on fear and subjugation—particularly of humans. But there are other ways to influence outcomes.”

She looks unconvinced. “If you had real influence, you’d have your title back and wouldn’t be skulking around a fortress at the edge of the farmland.”

I inhale a slow breath, reigning in my temper. “You speak as though you understand our politics. Let me give you a simpler perspective: I can help you survive. In return, I want something.”

Her jaw clenches. “You want me to betray my people.”

“Not necessarily. I’d rather you redirect your efforts in a more… strategic manner. Your rebellion, as it stands, is doomed to fail. But if you had a powerful Dark Elf at your side, perhaps you could achieve some of your aims without being slaughtered in the process.”

She looks at me like I’ve sprouted horns. “You’re suggesting we work together?”

“If it suits my interests as well, yes.” I step nearer, resting a hand on the table’s edge. “Imagine a scenario where humansare granted better conditions. Fewer whippings, more autonomy in the farmland. In exchange, they quietly produce the goods the council demands, without sabotage or revolt. Everyone benefits.”

Her nostrils flare in disbelief. “So you think we’ll settle for scraps of kindness? How gracious of you. We want freedom, not a slightly lighter chain.”

I hold her gaze. “Full freedom isn’t an option. Not yet. You must realize that. Our system is entrenched. A direct assault on Pyrthos will fail every time. But if we chip away at the foundation—subtly, from within—change might happen.”

She utters a humorless laugh. “And you’d be the one chipping away? The exiled prince who can’t even protect himself from his own court?”

My fists tighten behind my back. “Careful, Lysandra. I may tolerate your bluntness for now, but I’m not beyond retribution.”