The silence stretched on, thick with tension and unspoken calculations. Matilda held her ground, chin lifted in defiance despite the burning in her lungs. Zafron, to his credit, played along perfectly, his posture shifting subtly to one of subservience.
Finally, Shadow broke the silence with a low chuckle. "Well, well. Aren't you full of surprises, princess?"
Whisper tilted her head, the green glow of her mask's crystal casting eerie shadows. "A slave, you say? And you're willing to trade him for our masks?"
"That's right," Matilda replied coolly, fighting to keep her voice steady. "One man for two masks. It's more than fair, I'd say."
The twins exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. Zafron tensed, ready for anything.
"An interesting proposition," Shadow mused. "But tell me, how do we know this slave of yours is worth two perfectly good air crystals?"
