Won and the Choice is Yours

“A slave?” Ma echoed, puzzled. Dael put a hand on her wrist.

“You intend to make a slave of me?” he asked.

The soldier smirked. “A boy like you would fetch an excellent price.”

Dael met the man’s gaze. “What would you sell me for - a house, a field?”

“Maybe. Or perhaps the colosseum, or a lady’s bed.” The soldier smirked.

Colosseum. Dael had never heard the word before. The way the other soldiers chuckled, it couldn’t be good.

“You don’t know what you waste, turning me into a slave,” Dael said. “But you’ve won, and the choice is yours.”