Even though it’s no secret that the queen has no power, it’s never so openly thrown in her face like this. Or maybe it is. Maybe this is usual for them behind closed doors.
“That has nothing to do with it,” Queen Malina hisses at him. “The point is, you’re breaking peace treaties that the six kingdoms have held for centuries! And you did it without even discussing it with me!”
“I know what I’m doing,” he replies coolly in front of her. “And you’d do well to remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing, wife.”
She narrows her icy blue eyes. “What? Sit up in my rooms with my ladies-in-waiting, knitting and walking around the ice garden?” She shakes her head with a humorless laugh. “I’m not one of your saddles to be kept, Tyndall.”
“No, you’re definitely not one of my saddles,” he says, casting a look of contempt at her.
An angry blush stains her pale cheeks, and her hands fist into her skirts again. “And whose fault is it that you don’t visit my bed anymore?”
I cringe, my ears almost burning. I thought their talk was private before? This just got so much worse.
Midas scoffs. “You’re barren,” he tells her, and I don’t miss the way her head flinches back, as if he’d struck her with an open palm. “I’d rather not waste my time. Which is what this is,” he says, gesturing between them. “Wasted time. Now, if you’re done with your feminine fit, I have work to do.”
He starts to stalk away, but before he can take three steps, her voice stops him dead. “I know the truth, Tyndall.”
My eyes bounce between the two of them, wondering what truth she’s talking about.
Seconds pass. Midas’s shoulders are stiff as a board when he finally turns back around to face her. The look in his brown eyes is so vitriolic that the queen even takes a step back. Seems like she overplayed her hand. I just don’t know which cards she’s holding.
“I’d be very, very careful if I were you,” Midas tells her with quiet harshness.
A threat, plain and simple. The cruelty in his tone is enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck sit up. Malina watches him, and I’m riveted, barely even letting myself blink.
“Go back to your rooms,” he finishes coldly.
The queen swallows hard, but despite the tremble in her hands that she hides in her skirts, she tips her chin up before striding out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. She’s not a wilting flower, I’ll give her that.
Me, I’m too scared to breathe in the silence, and my heart is pounding against my chest like drums. I wait precious seconds, my cheeks puffed out with all the air I’m not letting out.
Midas takes a breath and tugs at his golden tunic to straighten it before running a hand over his hair to make sure not a single strand is out of place. After another moment, he turns to leave, exiting my line of sight. Only when I hear the door shut behind him, his footsteps receding, do I let out my breath.
I push back the blanket and sit up, knowing I need to get past the library undetected and back to my bedroom before Midas returns to the library. If he calls for me, and I’m not in my room, he’ll know I’m here and that I overhead the two of them, and that...that probably won’t go well for me.
Getting to my feet, I rush out of the atrium, down my private hallway, and then skid to a stop just outside the archway into the back of the library.
I can hear the advisors’ voices mumbling and King Fulke eating loudly as he breathes through his mouth. Chew, breathe, chew, breathe. It’s obnoxious. Daring to peek around the doorway, I find that everyone is thankfully facing the table, no one giving my caged portion any mind, and Midas isn’t back yet.
The sun is going down, taking the dim gray lighting with it, but the men won’t be finishing any time soon. The advisors will no doubt work through the night like they have for the past several days, and I don’t want to get stuck in here with them.
The only way I might be able to hide in my rooms for the rest of the night is if I can make it there before Midas comes back. Out of sight, out of mind. Or so I hope. He’ll probably be in a foul mood after his talk with Malina, and I don’t want to be caught in the crosshairs.
To get to my personal rooms, I have to get across this library. Midas made sure the entire top level of the castle was remodeled so that I could roam freely. Since my cages built into each room aren’t confined, they all lead into small hallways he had made for me that connect from one room to the other, all the way to the other end of the palace. But that means that there’s only one way to get from one end to the other—I have to go through each room.
I do another visual sweep to make sure no one is looking, and then start tiptoeing across the caged-in portion of the library, my eyes focused on the archway at the other end, my steps hurried but careful. I can’t go too fast, or the movement will catch attention from their peripherals, but I have to hurry before Midas comes back.
I’m three steps away when I hear, “Ah, you’re back.”
I freeze, but when my gaze darts over, no one is looking at me, but at Midas who’s striding through the doorway.
Gathering my skirts in my hands, I leap for the archway and sprint down the hallway. Right before Midas’s eyes can find me. I don’t stop running until I pass my bathroom and dressing chambers. I duck into my room, blowing out a breath as I slump against the wall.
I rest my head back for a minute, basking in my successful retreat, while my mind spins. I’m lucky I wasn’t caught.
I stay propped here for a while, my brain soaking in everything I’ve learned. Not just from the spied conversation, but from the bits and pieces I’ve picked up all week during Midas’s war council. It seems even Queen Malina is wary of Midas’s bold attack.
I’m not surprised he didn’t discuss his decisions with her, though. That’s how he operates. Purely by his own agenda and plans. It’s one of the things I’ve always admired about him actually—the confidence he possesses. He wasn’t born royal like Malina. He wasn’t groomed to be a monarch. And as harsh as he may be sometimes, he knows how to rule. Highbell needed money, and it needed a strong leader, and it got both the minute Midas sat on the throne.
I blink, realizing that the day has leached out and night has crept in. A shiver travels down my spine, and I rub my arms, willing the tingles away. Bright side: If Midas was going to send for me, he would’ve done it by now.
What little light that existed in my room has faded into shadows that quickly stained everything in darkness. Pushing myself away from the wall, I head to the far end of my room, following the way by memory, until I reach the small table that butts up against the bars.
I blindly feel for the candlestick that I know is there, but instead of my fingers wrapping around the hard base, I come into contact with something warm. Something that moves.
I flinch back in alarm, but too late. The hand flashes forward and grabs my wrist, yanking me forward. My torso tips over the top of the table, my hands shooting out to catch myself on it. The person holding my wrist releases it and instead snatches me by the hair in a fisted grip.
I reach up in a scrabbled panic, trying to tear the hold away on instinct, but whoever is holding me doesn’t release me, no matter how hard I yank.
I start scratching at them mercilessly, hoping to peel their skin into bloody strips so they’ll let go. As soon as I feel my nail draw blood, the person hisses in pain and then slams my head into the bars so hard that I see stars.
I buckle at the knees, my body unsteady and my head pulsing, but the hand with the vicious hold on my hair doesn’t let go. My scalp screams with pain, and I cry out, but no sooner does the whimper of pain fly out of my lips than another hand slaps over my mouth to cut off the noise.
Unfortunately, the hand is also covering my nose, blocking my ability to breathe.
Dazed from the hit to the head and unable to see much with the darkening night, I panic, lashing out to try to fight, my throat constricting and my nostrils flaring with the need t
o breathe.
And through it all, I can’t help but be shocked that someone besides Midas is touching me.
I haven’t been touched by anyone for as long as I can remember. No one would dare. Aside from fleeting caresses I get from my king, I’ve been so starved of touch that part of me is in too much sensory overload to react.
“Hold her up.”
The order is quiet but firm, completely uncaring about my plight, and my stomach plummets when I recognize the voice.
The queen.
Whoever is holding me wrenches my head forward until my face is squished against the bars, but the palm over my mouth and nose lets go at least. I take in ragged breaths, my neck strained at an awkward angle and the edge of the table digging into my hips as I’m forced to lean over.
I blink as Queen Malina comes forward into my line of vision. With a candle in hand, her face is gripped with fiery shadows, making her pale face glow.
“You think I didn’t see you hiding and listening?” she asks, bringing the candle close enough that the heat licks my cheeks in a burning threat.
I open my mouth to reply, but she snaps at me before I can even find my voice. “Quiet.”
I immediately close my mouth, the hand at my hair pulling my strands again, pain blooming across my head and making my eyes water.
Malina eyes me dispassionately. “The king’s favored,” she spits, like it’s the most hated word in her entire vocabulary. It probably is. “It always bothered me all these years why he chose to Gold-Touch a useless orphan girl and keep here like a trophy on a shelf,” she says, looking around my cage with disdain. “But Midas always did have his obsessions.”
I’m not an obsession. He loves me. She just doesn’t want to admit it.
As if she can see the defiance in my face, she laughs. “You think you have his heart?” she asks, her tone a mix of mock pity as she leans down so that we’re eye-to-eye. She’s so close that I can feel her breath coming from between her colorless lips. “Oh dear, you’re nothing but a dog he keeps kenneled. A prize that he likes to show off to make himself seem more interesting.”
It’s a lie. I know this, but I’m not thick-skinned enough to face her spewing words of hate and jealousy and not be affected. So her declaration, along with the pounding sharp pain at my scalp makes even more tears build in my eyes until one dives onto my cheek.
She sighs and shakes her head, her eyes darting to the snow-covered window. “I was a foolish girl then. A powerless royal with no way to rule on my own when Tyndall showed up.”
I watch her steadily, keeping very still so that my screaming scalp doesn’t get more abused than it already is.
“My father said Midas was a gift from the gods. A handsome vigilante with a romantic marriage proposal on his tongue and gold in his hands? It’s no wonder I happily went along with the proposal. He did seem serendipitous. Exactly the savior we needed. I didn’t even care that he kept you.”
My mind whirls as I try to think past the pain to focus on her words. I inwardly kick myself for getting caught. For not even being mindful enough of my surroundings to know that she was in here, waiting to pounce.
“All men have their vices, after all,” Malina tells me, her tone making it clear what she thinks of me. “Tyndall’s was making you into an heirloom. A caged orphan girl with gold-stained skin that he could show off and keep to himself. It’s garish and gaudy. But you were of no consequence to me then, and you’re of no consequence to me now. Do you know why?”
I clench my teeth together, anger warming the lids of my eyes so that each blink sears. My ribbons inch forward, slipping up the legs of the person holding me. I don’t want anyone to know that I can move my ribbons, but right now, my priority is my safety over my secret.
Malina and I have had a few run-ins in the past, but for the most part, we do our best to avoid each other. She’s never had me attacked before. This is a new reaction for her, and one I fear is the start of something more violent. I can deal with her disparaging comments and disdainful looks at my expense. But this? Having to fear that she’s hiding in the shadows, ready to punish me? The thought makes me shiver.
“Why?” I ask, when it’s clear she wants me to.
Malina’s eyes gleam. “Because you’re in there, and I’m out here.”
A simple statement, but one that bites into my heart with the vicious, snapping teeth of a beast.
Whatever she sees in my expression makes her smirk in victory. Her eyes move up to look at whoever is holding me. “You can release her.”
My ribbons immediately let go of the person, retreating back to the floor behind me.
My hair is released, and my face is given one more shove into the bars before I’m let go of completely. I grip the golden spires of my cage to keep from falling, my hand tenderly cupping my scalp as my eyes find the queen’s personal guard. The beefy, stern man has a jaw full of beard and eyes full of snide smugness. It takes everything in me not to let my ribbons come out and strangle him.
“Remember your place, saddle,” Queen Malina says, drawing my gaze back to her as she begins to walk away. “You’re just a pet for Midas to mount. A souvenir to show off.” She pauses at the doorway to look over her shoulder at me. “The next time I catch you spying, I’ll cut off your golden ears.”
My hands curl into fists. Bitch reverberates in my head as I glare at her, though I don’t dare say it.
Malina nods to her guard. “Make sure she heard what I said.”
I frown at her words as she walks out, but without warning, the guard turns and knocks his fist past the gap in my bars and sends it flying into my gut.
The impact makes me fall back onto the ground. I clutch my stomach in pain, coughing and trying not to vomit. “Did you hear the queen?” he grunts out from above me.
“I—heard—” I choke out, sending him a vicious glare.
“Good.”
Without another word, he turns and stomps out, the door closing quietly behind him.
Fucking Divine hell. I wish I hadn’t gotten out of bed today.
It takes a couple minutes of deep breathing before I manage to pull myself off the floor, but my stomach and scalp hurt so damn badly that I don’t bother lighting any candles. I stumble over to my bed. Bright side? At least the bars of my cage kept them from doing anything worse.
As soon as I lie on my bed, my ribbons curl around me, like silken sheaths that want to ward away the world. A cocoon hiding the caterpillar.
But I realize that it’s not Malina or her guard that keeps me awake well into the night. It’s not even my throbbing head or sore stomach. It’s the fact that my time is slipping away. Because soon, the armies will reach Fourth’s borders. And King Fulke will be collecting his payment.
Me.
Chapter Eight
I dread waking up.
Usually, that’s just because I’m not a morning person. I often have a wicked hangover from all the wine, so waking up bright and early is not my favorite. Plus, it’s not like I have any bright sunshine to greet me. I haven’t seen the sun’s rays in years.
But when the last of sleep slips away from me, I dread it even more than my usual passive disdain for mornings, because today, I know my time has run out.
I don’t know how I know this—maybe it’s a charge in the air. Maybe it’s the wicked wind outside my window—the Gale Widow shrieking her shrill lament. She’s warning me that the last of the sand in the hourglass has settled at the bottom like a stone in the sea, and I have no more grains to count.
My eyes peel open, and I stare at the window, shivering at the blurry ice distorted over the glass. I push the ribbons from my body, but groan from how sore I am. My scalp and stomach feel like one giant bruise from the vicious attention I received last night.
I sit up carefully, looking past my bars into the rest of the room to find that Digby is already standing watch for his morning rounds. Too bad he wasn’t here last night, but that’s my own fault.
When I was eighteen, I argued with Midas for months to stop sending night guards. It creeped me out to have someone standing there watching me sleep. He finally relented, agreeing to let me have my privacy at night, but I can’t help but regret that a little bit right now.
Even if she is the queen, I don’t think Digby is the type of man to let me get assaulted on his watch. At the very least, I think he would have informed Midas. Unlike me. I have zero intention of telling Midas anything. All that would do is infuriate Malina even more, and that’s the last thing I need.
Getting up is more difficult than it should be, and I wince a little at the pull on my stomach. Digby shoots me a frown, his eyes narrowing. He’s way too attentive for his own good.
“Stomach’s upset. Too much wine,” I lie as I lightly pat my stomach to drive my point home. I don’t want him to be suspicious or ask questions. Questions are dangerous.
I turn and rub the tiredness from my eyes, but out of my peripheral, I notice a gown hanging up on one of the bars of my cage. Gold and gauzy, so sheer that it’s barely a gown at all.
My teeth press together as I look at it, my spine gone rigid. Midas had this dress pulled out for me. A message, plain and simple.
Tonight, I’m to be dressed as a saddle. Tonight, he’s going to let me out of my cage.
I stare at the wispy fabric, at the plunging neckline, at the slits up the thin skirt. My ribbons curl at the same time that my fingers do, fists clamping onto emotions, tension contracting. The appearance of this gown goes perfectly with Queen Malina’s words.
You’re just a pet.
A souvenir to show off.
Turning away, I leave the dress hanging there and walk through out of my bedroom and into my dressing room, feeling Digby’s eyes on my back as I go.
Once I’m in the other room alone, I pause in the darkness, letting out a calming breath. I force myself to release my fists, and my ribbons grudgingly uncurl. In the other room, I hear the outer bedroom door open and shut, signaling that Digby is walking his rounds of the rest of the rooms, but no doubt doing it to give me privacy.
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