I knew Malina was the barren one.
Now, I’ve bred a saddle. My teeth grind again and again.
Yet, as my mind works through these strings that have been added to my grasp, I see possibilities of new knots. Knots that might be exactly what I need to tighten my reign.
A child can be a powerful thing. After all, there’s nothing quite like a baby to endear the royal family to the public. It might even help solidify my rule here. If only it weren’t a damn bastard.
I straighten up, hands falling at my sides as I smile.
No, what I need is an heir.
Chapter 5
AUREN
I jerk awake and sit up in a panicky rush.
For a moment, I’m not sure where I am. There isn’t a black tent pulled taut above me, no golden ceiling gleaming. Instead, I stare up at lavender fabric draped over the four posters of the unfamiliar bed I’m lying in.
Everything rushes back to me. Where I am, who I was with. Luckily, the space beside me is cold, and the quiet of the room tells me that I’m alone. The only proof that someone has been in here is the gentle crackle of the fire at the opposite end of the room.
After being surrounded by Fourth’s soldiers, the quiet privacy of the room is almost daunting. I’d grown used to Rip’s steady breaths as he slept on his pallet. I’d become accustomed to the smell of the wet leather, of the coals smoldering between us.
I look around the richly adorned room, eyes settling on the pillow where Midas rested his head, and yet, all I can see is Rip’s dark silhouette from across the tent, see the flash of his ink-stained eyes.
I rub a hand over my chest, because there’s an ache in my heart that has nothing to do with Midas. I try to tell myself that the taste of betrayal isn’t clogging my throat, that pain isn’t stemming from a male with roots along his jaw and a stranger’s green eyes. “Forget him,” I murmur to myself.
Deal with Midas. Forget about Ravinger. That’s what I need to do.
Taking a deep breath, I compose myself, forcefully shoving away all my emotions into a little box where I can slam the lid closed. There’s no room for distractions. I have to cauterize the pieces of my bleeding heart, because I have plans to make.
I groan as I roll back my stiff shoulders, arms popping as I stretch them overhead. I have no idea how long I’ve been sleeping, but slices of light are cutting through the edges behind the thick curtains that hang over the glass balcony doors.
I yank back the golden blankets and stand up, but as soon as my bare feet hit the carpet, they grow wet, gold instantly soaking into the white. I should’ve slept with socks on, but I suppose it doesn’t matter now. One good thing about being with Midas is that the evidence of my power is associated with him, so I don’t have to hide it.
As groggy and sore as I feel, I luckily have the wherewithal to control my willful magic enough that I don’t turn the rug solid. Finding a pair of slippers waiting for me, I slip them on before I go in search of clothes.
Somber sunlight greets me as I step through the doorway of the dressing room, my skin tingling faintly as I cross through the weak beams of light. All around, a new wardrobe waits for me, dozens of gowns hanging up in varying shades of purple.
I choose one with a low sewn back so that I’ll be able to have my ribbons out. The moment I touch it, gold drips from my hands and soaks into the velvety fabric like ink to paper.
Inside the bureau, I snag some gloves and thick fleece stockings, but I can’t find any shifts to go under my dress. Instead, I find piles and piles of frilly lace. I frown as I hold one pair up, and it takes me entirely too long to realize that these things are supposed to be underwear.
“Well, these can’t possibly be comfortable,” I mumble to myself. Unless I want to be bare beneath my dress, it’s the only choice I have.
With a resigned sigh, I strip off my night dress before pulling on the tiny scraps. Walking over to the mirror, my brows rise as I turn to see myself, admiring the way the dainty lace hugs my curves.
“Well, bright side, it makes my ass look amazing.”
Luckily, the softness of the leggings helps to counteract the lace, so it’s not quite as uncomfortable as I thought it would be. The gown, however, is a different matter.
Apparently, the women in Fifth Kingdom don’t have to breathe, because there’s thick boning built into the bodice of the dress. It cinches so tightly that I’m out of breath just by pulling the damn thing on.
I look through the rest of the dresses to switch it out, but they all have the same thing. Glaring down at the bodice that’s shoving my breasts up to my neck and holding my ribs captive, I act on impulse. My ribbons come out and snap the boning one after the other until I have enough give that I can actually inhale.
I look into the mirror again at the bodice that’s now kinked, with broken lines of bones jutting out awkwardly, and I smile. “Much better,” I say with a nod.
After slipping on my shoes and gloves, my ribbons tackle my hair by weaving it in a few braids that I pin up. Instead of hiding my ribbons completely, I loosely wrap them around my hips like a belt, shortening the length just enough so they won’t drag on the floor, and then I’m ready.
To everyone else, I probably seem unchanged. I probably look like the same gilded saddle, the same gold-touched favored.
But if you look closer, you might see the gleam in my eye. You might catch the twist of my downturned lips that hints at the discontent lying just at the edge of my mouth.
Walking back into my bedroom, I head straight for the door and heave it open. I stride out without hesitation, and a little thrill travels up my spine.
The guards standing watch in the hall are so surprised by my sudden appearance that the two nearest jump, while the other four in the hall blink at me as I begin to walk down the corridor.
“Erm...”
Muttering ensues.
A pointed whisper. “Is she allowed to leave?”
“I don’t know... Is she?”
“Why you lookin’ at me?”
“My lady?” one of them calls.
I turn with a pleasant smile on my face, glancing at all six men staring at me. “Yes?”
The guard who called me has light brown hair cut short, thick sideburns on either side of his face. “Pardon me, my lady, but you’re supposed to stay in your rooms.”
I give him a look. “Is that so?”
All six of the guards exchange glances, and I can see their uncertainty as sure as I can see my reflection in their gleaming chest plates.
“Umm, yes?” he answers with uncertainty. “You’ve been asleep for nearly three days. Perhaps you should...rest?”
I’m taken aback by that. Three days?
I tilt my head. “Well, if I slept for almost three days, then it seems to me I’ve rested plenty. What’s your name?”
The man blushes, like I’ve asked him something scandalous. Maybe I have, since they’ve probably been told not to speak to me. He clears his throat. “Scofield, my lady.”
“Scofield, am I a prisoner?” I ask.
His eyes go wide. “No, of course not.”
“Good. Glad we got that cleared up,” I say with a bright smile. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
I turn and walk away briskly, the guards stunned into momentary silence. One of them curses, and then a hissed argument breaks out between them, too low and rushed for me to hear. A few seconds later, two heavy footsteps hurry after me.
I look over my shoulder as I reach the stairwell. “You two drew the short straws, huh?”
I’m not surprised to find Scofield is one of them. “I don’t know anything about straws, my lady, but I’m the only one here who’s taken rounds at Highbell to guard you before. So the others, ahh, suggested I stay with you. And Lowe here served King Fulke, so he knows his way around the castle.”
I glance at short, ginger-haired Lowe, who doesn’t seem very thrilled to be here. “Gre
at, then you can help me by giving me a tour.”
“A tour?” Lowe says, as if the idea tastes bad in his mouth.
“This is my first time at Ranhold, and I’d like to see more of it. Let’s go to the kitchens first.”
“My lady, if food is all you desire, surely we can have a servant send something up?” Lowe asks hopefully.
Scofield latches onto the suggestion. “Yes, we can have anything sent for you. There’s no need to take a trip to the kitchens.”
“Oh, I’m not going there for the food. I just want to walk around a bit,” I say absently before I stop at the landing and turn. “Now, there’s just one rule I want to make really clear to both of you. And it’s a matter of life and death.” The seriousness in my tone makes them pause. “Neither of you are to touch me. Ever.”
Their eyes widen comically. My glare is probably a bit overboard, but I need to make sure they understand, because their lives depend on it.
I’ve been lucky so far that no one has touched my skin during the day, and I have to make sure it stays that way. Midas has already set the precedent that no one is to ever touch me, so all I need to do is drive that rule home.
“It doesn’t matter if there’s a wayward carriage about to run me down, or a viper in my soup bowl, or if you just want to offer your arm to help me down a broken stairwell,” I go on. “Never, under any circumstances, are you allowed to touch any part of me. King Midas will have you killed in an instant, even if your intentions were honorable. Do you understand?”
Lowe’s throat bobs nervously, like he’s even less pleased about escorting me than he was before. Scofield gives a wary nod. “I know the rules, my lady. The king made them exceedingly clear.” He looks away, muttering, “Maybe not as colorful as you just did, but…”
I hold back a snort. “Okay, good. Just make sure you follow them.” I take a deep breath and look around. “Now, which way to the kitchens?”
“To the left, my lady,” Lowe answers.
I immediately turn and head in that direction and look around as I go, eyeing the jagged icicles insignia embroidered into the carpets. My gloved fingers itch to drag against the stone walls encased in the layer of glass, but I keep them at my sides. I shiver at the way it looks like ice, the effect helped by the chill in the air that seems to cling to the stunted ceilings and the crevices of every corner.
“Is King Ravinger staying on this level?” I ask curiously. As soon as I speak the question aloud, regret makes me bite my tongue. Whether he’s on this level or about a thousand levels below in hell, it shouldn’t matter, and I shouldn’t care.
I don’t care.
“I believe he’s in another wing, my lady,” Scofield answers.
A non-committal noise rises from my throat as I nod stiffly. Forget about him, I practically hiss at myself.
On the next floor down, we pass by a wide-eyed servant who stops dead in her tracks at the sight of me. She presses herself against the wall so tightly it’s like she’s worried I’ll trip and fall into her and Midas will punish her for it. It’s not a far-fetched scenario.
I give her a friendly wave but then stop when I notice the pile of rags in her arms. “May I have one of those?”
She blinks at me. “What?”
“The rags, may I please have one?”
A flabbergasted expression crosses her face before she manages to answer. “Sure, my lady. Take whatever you like.”
“Thank you.” I pluck one from the pile, pretending not to notice the way she winces.
As soon as I have the rag in my hand, she dips into a curtsy and hurries away. I try and fail to suppress a sigh. I’m well and truly back in a castle controlled by Midas. I know it’s for the best that people are scared of me, because I don’t want to hurt anyone accidentally, but at the same time, it was so nice not to endure that reaction for a while. In Fourth’s army, no one flinched away from me, no one averted their eyes. It made me feel almost...normal.
When I look back at Scofield and Lowe, I notice them frowning at the rag in my gloved hand. I quickly slip it into my pocket. “In case my nose runs,” I say lamely. “It’s...drafty in here.”
I grimace at myself, but they simply nod, and I turn and keep walking. I follow Lowe’s directions all the way to the palace kitchens, but once near enough, I could’ve found it by scent alone.
The smell of freshly baked bread greets me as I step inside the doorway. The space is large, with so much steam and smoke that it’s like walking through a cloud. I take a moment to look around, noting the workers busy at their tasks.
I wasn’t lying when I told the guards that I wanted to walk around. I want to get a feel for Ranhold on every level, and I figured the kitchens was an innocent place to start.
A cook with a sweaty face and a soiled apron finally seems to notice me even through the haze, and her eyes grow wide. “My lady?”
“Hello,” I say with a smile.
The woman comes over while the rest of the kitchen staff go quiet and still, staring at me like they aren’t sure if I’m real or not.
“Did you...did you need something, my lady?” she asks nervously, darting a look at the guards.
I glance around at all the stunned staff, wondering if maybe this hadn’t seemed so innocent after all. “Oh, I was just wondering if I could have a piece of fruit?”
Behind me, I can almost feel Lowe glower.
“Of course, my lady.”
She rushes over to a spot near the stove and grabs a basket of apples, bringing it over for me to choose. I pick out the largest one in the bunch. “Do you need anything else? Bread? Cheeses? Shall I send someone down for some wine...?”
I’m tempted by the wine, but I shake my head. “This is perfect, thank you.” With a nod, I walk out, ears perking at the murmuring that erupts as soon as I leave.
“I thought you said you weren’t hungry, my lady?” Lowe asks pointedly.
I shove the apple into my pocket right next to the rag and then give him a breezy look over my shoulder. “A lady is entitled to change her mind. Now, where should we go next?”
The guards look at each other, and their dread just makes it all so much more fun.
“We should really go speak with the king—”
I cut Scofield off. “King Midas is incredibly busy, and the last thing he would want is for you to interrupt him while he’s working. It’s just a castle tour,” I say before turning on my heel and starting to walk again. “Oh, how about the library?”
“The...library, my lady?” Lowe repeats.
“Yep, you know, the place with historic tomes and the occasional romance novel?” When he still hesitates, I frown. “Does Ranhold frown upon reading or something?”
“It’s just...well, the royal library is not open to the public. Unless you are royal, you must have an appointment with the scribes.”
Wow, this palace is really particular about their books.
“Alright, then let’s go make an appointment.”
Lowe blinks at me. “Right now?”
“No time like the present. I didn’t shove all my bits into this dress for nothing, gentlemen,” I say, gesturing down my broken bodice. “Oh, and does the castle have a garden?”
Another long blink. Poor Lowe doesn’t seem to like tours, or books, or plants. “Well, there’s a greenhouse, my lady.”
“Perfect, we can go there after.”
I swear I hear Lowe sigh, which just makes a smirk tug at my lips. I probably shouldn’t feel such a thrill at this, but I do.
It’s a small thing, walking around, talking to staff, doing what I want to do when I want to do it. For nearly the entire time I’ve lived in Orea, I haven’t been able to make my own decisions.
Everything has been dictated to me since I was a child, so this small piece of freedom is incredibly satisfying. My newfound rebellious streak has me practically skipping down the halls. I feel freer already, and this is just the beginning
. This excitement reminds me of what I need to fight for.
Be quiet. Sit pretty. Play your silly music. Behave.
Those old orders play in my head like an overdone song that I have no desire to listen to anymore. I use every old order, every manipulation to stoke my fiery resentment, to keep me lit up with focus.
If Midas is going to keep up his remorseful and accommodating act to make me compliant, then I need to be on guard against everything he might throw at me. I can’t let myself be tricked or swayed.
Which is why I start to recite every single controlling rule he ever imposed on me throughout the years. It’s why I recall every time he pulled my strings, exploited me, used my feelings for his own machinations.
He made me suffer for years. He took away my control.
Now, it’s time I take it back.
Chapter 6
AUREN
“My lady, can we please bring you back to your rooms now?”
I turn to look at Lowe over my shoulder as we walk across the castle’s bailey. Who knew trained soldiers could be such whiners?
“Soon,” I assure him.
He doesn’t look appeased. “Forgive me, but that’s what you said after the greenhouse.”
“And the library,” Scofield puts in unhelpfully.
I roll my eyes. None of the damn scribes would even come to the door when I knocked.
“The music hall as well,” Lowe adds.
“Hmm, so I did.”
My steps are unhurried, the hem of my dress sweeping the thin layer of powdery snow as I walk the grounds. Lowe and Scofield have taken me all around Ranhold Castle today, to as many places as I could think of to go.
And even though it’s been hours, I’m still not ready to go back to my rooms. It seems I’ve developed a taste for freedom. Every time I take another bite, I want more. My spirit is ravenous for rampancy. Starving for wander. I want to go everywhere, see everything. For the first time, Midas isn’t here to dictate to me.
It’s so liberating not being told what to do. Not being a captive. Not being kept. It’s an indulgence I’ve never had the opportunity to enjoy. It’s a balm, cool and brisk, against a part of me that’s been tepidly stagnant for far too long.
Gleam (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 3) Page 6