Gild (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 1)

by Raven Kennedy

  Next to me, Polly gives a bitter laugh. “What do you think?” she answers. “They’re pirates. The Red Raids are known for being savage and brutal. No one else could survive out here in the Barrens. They’re going to use us up and then sell us off just like everything else they steal. And that’s if we’re lucky.”

  My whole body trembles, and my hand comes up to grip my scar. I was terrified that night with King Fulke. But this? This is an entirely new level of fear. This is a different form of captivity.

  One look at these pirates, and I’m certain that none of us want to be brought onto those ships.

  But with the savage fire claws behind us and the vicious pirates all around, there’s nowhere to go. Nowhere to hide. A leering voice inside of me tells me that this is my fault. That I should never have wished to leave the safety of my cage.

  I’m a fool.

  The bleakness of our reality slowly sinks in. Sinks deep as we stand there, shuddering in the cold. The snowfall hasn’t stopped and continues to drop in a slow, delicate descent, the flakes landing on shaking shoulders. Another burden to carry on our backs.

  I’m not sure how long we stand there.

  The pirates work to strip down every single item we possessed. Then piles are distributed, pieces picked out, and one by one, everything is hauled onto the ships, down to the last piece of dry, salted meat.

  The near-naked guards still kneeling in the snow grow weary, and two of them collapse, unable to hold themselves up any longer. The other guards try to nudge and rally them, try to encourage them to get back up. One does.

  The other doesn’t.

  Sail’s teeth started chattering a while ago, and even from several feet away, I can see that his lips have turned blue. His thin pants soaked through where he’s been forced to kneel.

  Frost has collected on brows and temples where nervous sweat dripped down. Despite the waves of heat coming from the fire claws at our backs, the bitter chill saps our strength, leaches our spirit.

  But through it all, Sail keeps looking at me, gaze steady and unyielding. When my body shivers, he holds his in. When my lips tremble, he pulls his up into a sad smile. When a tear falls against my cold cheek, he nods, still speaking to me, even without words.

  You’re okay, you’re okay.

  He protects me, bolsters me, there in those kind blue eyes.

  So I don’t look away from him when another one of our guards crumples to the ground. I don’t look away when a fire claw growls, so close that I swear it’s about to slash a line down my back. I don’t look away when one of the women wails and begs. Her cries like a shatter through brittle ice.

  I don’t look away.

  And then, someone descends. From a ramp lowered on the largest ship, heavy boots sound against the white wood. Each step scares a heartbeat to skip, and only when I hear him right behind me do I finally let my eyes tear away from Sail’s face.

  The Red Raids go still as the man stops at the foot of the ramp, every single pirate stopping to face him. My eyes hover at the side, taking him in, noting the white fur on his body and the red band around his face, same as the rest—but I also note the grisly pirate hat sitting proudly on his head, the color like rusted crimson, as if the leather was soaked in blood. A single black feather sits at its plume, like a mark of death, and it’s this that tells me exactly who I’m looking at.

  The captain of the Red Raids.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The pirate captain is met by a man at the bottom of the ramp. “How’d we do, Quarter?”

  “Best haul we’ve had, Cap’n. The gold on this lot? You were right—it’s Midas’s.” Even with the red cloth over his face, I can hear every word, can see the excited glint in the man’s—Quarter’s—eyes.

  “Hmm,” the captain replies, his gaze sweeping over the snow. It lands on the guards kneeling, and he walks over to them, a black brow cocking up. “Stripped them down already?”

  Quarter chuckles as he walks up from behind him. “Their armor was plated gold. Even their boots were tipped with it.”

  The captain rubs his hands together, but it’s not to keep them warm. It’s the satisfied friction of a crook. “Excellent.”

  “The horses are good stock, too. Already loaded ’em on the ship,” Quarter continues.

  The captain nods and then turns, his eyes finally deigning to land on us. “This many women?”

  “Whores, by the looks of ’em.”

  This news piques the captain’s interest. He walks over to survey our line, his boots crunching in the sodden snow, his intense eyes taking in every inch of us.

  “Hmm, not just whores,” he murmurs, fingering the dress of one of the women. She trembles, her gaze down, eyes buried in the snow. “They’re dressed far too fine for common whores.” He turns to Quarter, and even though his face is still covered, somehow, I know he’s grinning. “These are Midas’s royal saddles.”

  Quarter’s eyes widen, and a low whistle escapes him. “Well, shit. Y’hear that, Reds?” he calls out to the gathered pirates. “We’ll be ridin’ some royal saddles tonight!”

  A roar of approval rises up, like a pack of wolves howling at the moon in rabid jubilation. Beside me, Polly whimpers.

  The captain walks down the line of women, eyeing each of us carefully. By the time he reaches Polly, she’s shaking so hard that I worry she’ll pass out. When he sees her wearing the fur coat, he flicks an impatient hand.

  Quarter comes up and takes hold of it, snapping the buttons right off as he rips the front open. Polly lets out a shrill scream, trying to pull it back together, but another pirate comes up and yanks her arms behind her, holding her still.

  Now that she’s being held, the captain pushes her scraps of dress away to get a look at her body. “Nice tits. Midas has good taste, at least.” His eyes travel lazily back up from her breasts to her face. “Look at me, girl.”

  But Polly has her eyes shut tight, and she shakes her head no, keeping her chin down, keeping her shoulders curled.

  The captain’s dark eyes narrow. “Hmm, these royal saddles are a bit stuck-up, aren’t they, Quarter?” he muses.

  The bulky man—probably his second-in-command—nods. “Aye. But we can teach ’em some manners, Cap’n.”

  Quarter takes a step forward and grips Polly roughly by her blonde hair, wrenching a cry from her as he tilts her head back, her eyes flaring wide. “You ain’t a royal saddle no more, girl. If Cap’n Fane wants a look at ya, then you give it to him. Y’hear?”

  Polly whimpers and then her eyes suddenly roll back, her whole body going slack as she passes out. All three of the pirates let her fall, let her delicate body crash into the snow. Not one of them bothers to lift her back up.

  Captain Fane makes a tsking noise. “Weak. We’ll have to train them.”

  Inside my dress pockets, my hands shake.

  Above me, the blanket of night smothers, holds itself over us, keeps me hostage. Far behind, the mountain pass breathes, a yawning divide that would’ve led us to the border, would’ve led us to Fifth Kingdom.

  Too far. We were just too far.

  What will happen when our party never shows up to Fifth? How long until Midas sends scouts to search for us? Will he be able to find me? Will it be too late?

  Guilt, acidic and hot, steams in my stomach, each rising tendril malignant. Is this a punishment? Do the Divine gods and goddesses scorn me for my urge to leave Midas’s cage? Maybe this is a reprimand of the fates, proof that I should’ve been satisfied with what I had, been grateful for it.

  The pirate captain steps in front of me.

  My gaze lifts up, up, until it settles on his face. A cruel, callous face. White fur. Red band. Brown eyes.

  I should never have looked away from Sail’s eyes. I should’ve stayed there, in that look, where it was safe.

  The captain runs the same assessing, nearly bored look over me, same as he did the others. But then he goes still. Squints. Looks harder.

  My heart pounds.


  He snaps his fingers without ever looking away from me. “Light.”

  “Light! Get the captain a light!” Quarter hollers, making me flinch.

  I hear running footsteps, a shake of glass and metal. But I can’t look away from the captain. I’m stuck in fear, stuck, as if he has a hand wrapped around my neck.

  Someone rushes over with a torch, its yellow flame hissing from the snowfall, its center a wounded red, like they lit it from the paws of their hellish beasts.

  Captain Fane snatches the torch and holds it close to me, so close that the heat is nearly painful against my frozen cheeks. He lets the light glow over my face, drags it down my gold-threaded clothes. The glimmering leather of my boots. The luster of my hair.

  His brown eyes are no longer aloof or disinterested. There’s surprise there, surprise, and then triumph.

  It’s the triumph that makes my chin quiver.

  He shoves the torch over to Quarter for him to hold, the man instantly gripping it. Then the captain reaches forward, grabbing my tangled braid, and holds the strands in front of the light. He drops it after a few seconds, and then my hand is snatched up. He yanks off my glove, studying my fingers, my palm, my nails. My skin glitters in the firelight.

  “It can’t be,” he mutters before he reaches up and yanks away the red cloth that covers his face, the fabric lying around his neck like a scarf. He’s younger than I would’ve first guessed—maybe only in his early thirties.

  To my disgust, the captain pulls my hand closer and then licks the skin below my thumb. I cringe, trying to pull away, but he holds me firmly and then rubs at the licked spot, like he wants to see if the gold will come off.

  Paint. The other pirate had thought I was covered in paint. The captain just realized that I’m not.

  A slow, daunting smile spreads across his face. A face laid bare for me to see, with a mouth revealing a few missing teeth that have been replaced with the same white wood as the ship. Short, dark blond facial hair growing on only his chin, the ends gathered in red beads. A thick piercing through his left ear, a plug of red-stained wood filling the hole. I don’t dare wonder if it’s been soaked in blood.

  My mouth goes dry at that smile, at that look he gives me. It’s the kind of look that tells a woman all she needs to know about what kind of man has hold of her. If I had breath in my lungs, I would scream. But I’m dried up, emptied out. The only thing inside of my chest is that steaming guilt and a cold clutch of terror.

  Without warning, the captain snatches my wrist and tugs me forward. I stumble at the unexpected move, but he spins around on his heel, raising my hand high above my head like a show of victory, like a prize to show off. “Reds! Look at the treasure we unburied!”

  His voice booms across the Barrens like a drum.

  “We’ve got Midas’s gilded whore!”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  A shockwave seems to pass over the pirates at Captain Fane’s revelation.

  First, there’s stunned silence. I feel hundreds of eyes settling onto me, appraising me, before their shock gives way to something else. Something worse.

  Shouts rise up, louder than even the fire claws’ growls. I jump from the sound, trying to tear my hand away, but the captain’s hold only tightens around my wrist.

  He turns back to me, elation clear in his eyes. “Look at her. Even her dress is gold. This hair, too.” He drops my wrist to snatch up some of my hair, fisting it in his grip. “The golden pet of Highbell.”

  The captain turns back to his men, his hold unrelenting. “We snatched Midas’s favored.” The pirates chuckle, pleased, so immensely pleased with themselves.

  “He’ll pay you,” I blurt, my voice finally coming out, though it’s quiet, stretched thin. He drops his hold from my hair, my scalp pulsing in time with my hammering heart. “His guards, his saddles...me...he’ll pay you whatever ransom you want. Just don’t hurt us.”

  Captain Fane smirks. “Oh, I’m not going to ransom you. I can fetch a far higher price elsewhere.”

  His words hollow out a pit in my stomach, dark and bottomless.

  “I’ll be keeping this one ’til we sell her off to the highest bidder. Put the word out.”

  “Aye, Cap’n,” Quarter replies with a nod. “King Midas’s favored? There will be plenty who will be wanting her.”

  “The rest of them can be divvied up to entertain the men for their hard work,” he tells his second-in-command. The pirates near enough to hear whoop out in celebration. The saddles cry.

  Captain Fane’s eyes look down where Polly is still unconscious in a heap in the snow. “And put ’em to work, too, to earn their way. They need toughening up.”

  Quarter nods. “Consider it done, Cap.”

  The captain nods, a wicked gleam in his gaze that flicks over me. “I’ll enjoy having Midas’s gold-plated prisoner kept in my cabin.”

  My trembling body starts shaking even harder, chin wobbling. I can already see the pain he intends to inflict, the force he aims to assault me with. It’s all there, in his eyes.

  His hand comes up to grope my breast, fingers pinching, touch revolting. I try to shove him off, but he just laughs and squeezes harder. “Aye, I’ll like breaking this one in. Midas’s fucking favored,” he laughs, like he can’t believe his good luck. “I wish I could see the look on the bastard’s face when he finds out I took her, used her, and then sold her off.”

  Tears fill my eyes, blurring the world, drowning my chest. I can’t breathe. I can’t even feel my limbs. This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare. I’m going to wake up. I just need to wake up.

  Captain Fane’s fingers tighten, pinch, making me cry out. “Mmm, noisy too. I like that.”

  He starts to tug at the collar of my dress, scratching at my chest, but a voice shouts behind him. “Don’t fucking touch her!”

  Captain Fane stills. His hand drops. Slowly, he turns around. “Who said that?”

  One of the pirates walks up to a still kneeling Sail. “This one, Cap’n.”

  My eyes fly to Sail just as the pirate sends a brutal kick at his back.

  My guard goes sprawling forward, his face hitting the snow. Captain Fane stalks over to him, and dread catches, airborne and ruthless, infecting me instantly.

  “What’s your name?” the captain asks, stopping in front of him.

  Sail struggles to raise back on his knees, his jaw clenching as he looks up, defiant and bruised. “Sail.”

  At his answer, Captain Fane tips his head back and laughs. “Reds, did you hear that? We finally got a Sail for our sail-less ships!” Mean amusement floods the icy plains. Red flames flicker through the black night.

  “Alright, Sail. You have something to say? You must, since you hollered out like a cat in heat.” More pirates laugh, and Sail’s pale cheeks probably would’ve blushed if they weren’t already chapped and red with cold.

  But he doesn’t cower. He looks up at the captain, expression soaked in hatred. The Barrens go quiet, as if watching, every eye trained on the scene.

  Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything, Sail.

  But Sail doesn’t stay silent. “I said, don’t touch her,” he repeats, his tone livid. A band around my heart constricts.

  Captain Fane chuckles as if amused. “Look, Reds. We got a brave one, here. How rare for Midas’s army.” The pirates laugh. The other kneeling guards hang their heads, humiliation and cruelty falling on them alongside the snow.

  But Sail’s fingers curl into fists in front of him, his gaze steady. “She’s the king’s favored. He’ll pay handsomely for her if she’s returned to him unharmed. Despite what you said, Midas will pay much more for her than anyone else. He’s the only one that has the means to.”

  “Aye, the king with the golden-touch,” Captain Fane says with a jeering, bitter edge at the mention of Midas. Hate. There’s hate there in his tone. And maybe envy.

  “Perhaps it’s time that the king learned a lesson,” the captain muses. “Time to ensure that ther
e’s something that he can’t buy. In fact, maybe I’ll even just keep her for myself, to make sure of it.”

  Sail starts to open his mouth, but he’s silenced as the captain lowers himself, bending down until he’s directly in front of Sail, eye-to-eye. Brown to blue. Cruel to kind. His fingers skim over the snow, lazily collecting some of it in his bare palm, piling it up with bored movements.

  “Now listen very carefully,” Captain Fane begins, his voice low but loud enough to hear. “I’m going to fuck her. Wherever and whenever I wish.” He says it conversationally, easily, as if he were only talking about the weather. “I’m going to use her. Break her,” Captain Fane goes on, completely uncaring when Sail begins to shake with fury.

  A shaken sob totters through my throat, slips past my lips.

  “I’m going to cut off some of her pretty hair and send it to Midas in a pretty box, because it will amuse me to taunt him. Perhaps I’ll even take the hair from her golden snatch.”

  Captain Fane reaches up, the snow he gathered piled high in his cupped palm. He drops it onto Sail’s bare head with a taunting slap, making my guard wince from the cold. Slabs of it slip over his face before dripping off, landing on his already soaked pants.

  The captain gathers more snow.

  “And after I’m bored with her—who knows when that will be—I’ll sell her to whoever will give me the highest price. But that won’t be for weeks. Maybe even months.”

  Another handful of snow is dumped on Sail’s head. Some flakes stick to his hair, some slip down the back of his shirt to soak against his shivering spine. All while Captain Fane drinks in Sail’s expression, like a cat toying with a mouse, and the Red Raids watch, red bands like gaping, bloody grins.