Gleam (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 3)

Gleam (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 3) Page 7

by Raven Kennedy

  “My lady, you haven’t got a coat. You could catch a chill,” Lowe says, ginger hair blowing around in the breeze as he hurries to keep up with me.

  “I’ve lived in Sixth for a decade and traveled through the Barrens to get here,” I tell him. “I’ll be fine. This place is nothing compared to those.” It’s true. The cold air of Fifth Kingdom is like an exhale across my cheeks. It’s the gentle blow of a wintry breath, and I find it invigorating.

  I pass a few loaded carts, watching the white birds peck at the snow for invisible bits of food. The guards and castle workers freeze in their tasks when they notice me, and soon, the outdoor bailey goes quiet. Gazes follow me, and whispers begin to hiss out like the curled tongues of curious snakes.

  I ignore their stares, even as I feel them on the back of my neck. Although, their mutterings are harder to block out.

  “That’s her, King Midas’s favored.”

  “That’s the gilded saddle.”

  “Look at her face—gold-touched was right, wasn’t it?”

  “You think she’s gold between her legs too?”

  I’m unable to hold in my sigh. Different kingdom, same words. And therein lies the problem. Because wherever I go, words, attention, and recognition will follow me. Before Midas, I was simply an oddity. But he made me notorious, ensuring that I’m recognized throughout all of Orea.

  I’ll have to figure out what to do about that, since it’s pivotal for my escape. For now though, I want to simply enjoy the fresh air.

  I make my way across the square lot that’s surrounded on all sides by the castle walls, gray and worn with cold. There’s no layer of glass smoothed over the stone bricks here, no fancy filigree or snowflakes. This part of the castle grounds is not meant to be pretty, but functional.

  At my back, there’s a grain shed, the walls bleeding white paint in favor of the raw wood beneath. More birds peck at the ground in front of it where seeds and grain have spilled out, just to be shooed away by a worker. To my left, there are two tall towers at either corner of the wall, but I’m interested in the uncovered parapet.

  I head for the coarse stone stairs at the front wall, gripping the front of my skirt so I don’t trip.

  “My lady, you’re not allowed up there,” Lowe calls from behind me.

  “I just want to see.”

  There’s no railing on these stairs, so I’m careful to keep my body close to the wall as I make my way up the steep steps. It’s higher than it looks, and my breathing becomes labored before I’ve even made it halfway.

  My ribbons loosen a bit so they can trail after me like the long train on a gown. The strands drag over the gray rock like trickles of gold water, as if they’re enjoying the freedom too. It brings a smile to my face. Earlier in my life, I never would’ve thought they’d bring me happiness.

  When they first sprouted from my back, I hated them for making me stand out even more, for causing me more pain. It was just another thing I needed to hide.

  You’re ashamed of them. You think of them as a weakness, but they are a strength, Auren. Use them.

  Rip’s previous words cling to me. He might’ve kept secrets about who he was, but he sure had a talent for making me face who I am. For admitting the limits and lies I’ve accepted.

  I have hated, resented, and been ashamed of myself for long enough. I don’t want to harbor thoughts like that anymore. By mentally breaking away from Midas, something else has shifted too. It’s time to start embracing who I am and what I’m capable of.

  By the time I make it to the top of the tall stairs, my legs are burning from the climb, but it’s worth it for the height alone. The open parapet stretches a good hundred feet down the line, and there’s an unobstructed view of the kingdom.

  I stop in front of a notch in the wall that’s probably meant for archers, but it gives me the perfect vantage point. The city below is an arch of buildings that surround the castle like a rainbow against a moon.

  I’m high up enough that I can see all of Ranhold City laid out with its scattering of roads and rooftops, the buildings mashed together one on top of the other. The landscape is covered in snow and makes the ground glitter, and behind me, white-capped mountains stand like spires pointing to the bride-veiled sky.

  Beautiful.

  I turn my head slowly to take it all in, relishing in the fresh, stark air that ruffles my hair. It’s not enough, though. Not nearly enough. So I lift my hands on either side of my little notch and heave myself up.

  A strangled yelp of surprise escapes Lowe, while Scofield’s face drains of color. “My lady! Come down from there!”

  “She’ll fall!” Lowe manages to squeak out.

  “I won’t fall,” I say as I stand on the wall of the parapet, making sure I have solid footing before I straighten up.

  Lowe and Scofield are frozen, staring up at me with matching horrified expressions. Scofield reaches up like he’s going to grab hold of me, but a glare from me has him snatching his hand back.

  “My lady—” he begins.

  I cut him off, facing the city again. “I’m alright. Let me look for a moment, and then I promise I’ll go back to my rooms for the rest of the day.”

  He and Lowe go quiet at that, though I can feel the tension radiating off of them.

  Maybe it’s foolish to risk standing up here, but sometimes, you have to do foolish things just for the sake of doing them. I can look back one day and remember that I stood here, in the heart of an icicle kingdom, with a frosted city at my feet and a shivering sky at my cheeks.

  This is so much better than a cage.

  A smile plays about my lips as I breathe in the breeze. I think this is what it must be like for a bird before it lets out its wings and flies. I’m tempted to raise my arms, but it would probably send my nervous guards over the edge, so I keep my hands carefully balanced on the raised bricks at my sides.

  My eyes scan the city again, but my attention is pulled like a magnet to a spot in the distance. There, where the darkened veins are spoiled into the snow, is where Ravinger walked and eked out his magic.

  Jagged lines are slashed into the ground like torn paper, the edges singed brown against the snow. Even from here, I swear I can feel the sickly pulse of them, like they’re rotted roots, waiting for their master to ground them.

  Higher up, on a hill that overlooks the city, rows and rows of Fourth’s army tents are set up in neat little lines. For some strange reason, my heart squeezes at the sight.

  My fingertips drag against the rough stone beneath my palms as I tuck my fingers in. I stare and stare at those tents, at the dots I can see moving around, at the smoke lifting from burning campfires like a dark handshake with the air.

  It takes another minute of staring before I can admit to myself that the feeling in my chest is longing.

  I miss it.

  A snort escapes me, because what kind of person misses the traveling camp of the enemy army that captured them?

  And yet...they weren’t the enemy. Not to me. I can’t even say I was their captive, because in truth, they rescued me from the Red Raids. In fact, if things had been different, if I’d made the decision to stay, then maybe some of those soldiers down there would have been my friends. Lu, Osrik, Judd, Keg, Hojat.

  Rip.

  They weren’t what I expected. But somehow, they ended up being exactly what I needed.

  “My lady, I really must insist that you come down from there now,” Scofield pleads.

  I tear my stinging eyes away from the view to glance down at him. He’s so nervous he looks about ready to pee in his uniform. Considering the cut of his trousers, that would probably make the poor guy chafe, so I take pity on him.

  Turning back, I let myself indulge in one last deep breath of air before I hop down onto solid ground. Both of my guards let out a visible sigh of relief.

  “Hey! What the hell are you three doing up here?” someone shouts.

  I’m really gl

ad I’m not still on top of the wall, because I flinch on instinct at the sudden sound. All three of us look over as a soldier stalks toward us. He’s wearing Ranhold’s armor and a purple cloak, but none of that is as well-tailored as the deep-cut scowl on his face.

  Lowe tilts his chin practically down to his chest. “The Gilded Lady was just wanting to take in the view, Captain.”

  Displeasure rolls down my skin like beads of water and I shoot Lowe a look. Now all of a sudden I’m the Gilded Lady?

  A stony gaze falls onto me as the man stops in front of us. “Well, she can take in the view through a window. The parapet is not a place for females to be carousing around.”

  “Of course, Captain,” Lowe quickly says in deference. “We’ll leave straight away.”

  Maybe I’m overreacting, but a wave of irritation rushes over me. Why is it so easy for everyone to boss me around and dictate my actions? Everyone always expects me to bend, to behave, and for some reason, right now it just rubs me the wrong way. It nudges at some perched temper inside of me until I feel a budding animosity flexing its wings, talons stretching out with ruffled ire.

  I’ve realized that there are so many different kinds of cages, and if I want to stay out of them all, then I have a fight ahead of me. Because the world will keep on trying to leash me, men will continue trying to steer me in their grips of control. So I can’t just roll over every time. I can’t let that repressed temper of indignation sit stuck on that perch.

  The goddesses made me a female. War made me an orphan. Midas made me a saddle. Up until now, those things have roped me. I’ve let myself be bridled, jerked around this way and that. But I’m sick and tired of gnawing on that bit at the back of my jaw with every tug of the reins.

  Which is why I look the captain steadily in the eye and say, “We will not leave yet. I’ll go when I’m ready.”

  The steel in my voice has the men looking at me with disbelief. They didn’t expect me to do anything other than what I’m told. They don’t have to say it, because it’s there in their eyes.

  The captain is the first to recover, giving me a scathing look that’s so dry I’m surprised it doesn’t peel right off his face. “You will leave now, madam. The wall is for soldiers only, not females, and quite frankly, you are not welcome here.”

  I’m not welcome here, as in the wall, or here as in Fifth Kingdom?

  I give a cursory look around. “Are we so high up that your manners have evaporated, Captain?”

  His expression is stony enough to rival the bricks we stand on. “You may be the golden girl of Sixth Kingdom, but here, you’re just a female who’s on my wall without permission. You need to leave,” he says, eyes as hard as his tone. “You wouldn’t want to get hurt out here, would you?”

  My temper bristles, like feathers puffing up. “Are you threatening me?”

  “You wouldn’t be the first trespasser to fall off the wall.”

  I stare at the man in shock. His words might seem innocuous, but his eyes imply something much darker.

  The unfurling temper of mine takes flight into full blown anger, gliding through me with a swoop, and it screeches the challenge of a sinister song. Let it be a threat.

  “Fall? Or get escorted over the edge by a domineering wall captain?” I lob back.

  Beside me, I feel my guards stiffen, feel the tension pull taut between all four of us. But I only have eyes for the arrogant captain whose mouth tightens, cold-chapped lips pressing together in a hard line of offense. “Of course not, and hysterics such as this are proof enough that you have no business up here where one needs to keep their wits about them.”

  Hysterics? I can show him hysterics.

  “Leave, madam.”

  My spine snaps straight. “No.”

  The sudden standoff between this stranger and me calcifies, fusing my dug-in heels right where I stand. I should probably just go, since I was going to leave anyway, but because he’s ordering me, because he’s sneering at me, I just can’t.

  The captain scoffs, but the noise is stunted, the cockiness cut off at the knees with too much time passed between. “No more of this foolishness,” he says dismissively. “You are interrupting my duty and taking up my valuable time.”

  I don’t point out that he was the one who interrupted me. “By all means, go do your super important duty of wall-watching, Captain. You’re blocking my view,” I say with a fake smile.

  He matches me, stubbornness to stubbornness. I don’t know whether I’m more irritated or darkly glad.

  His voice lowers. “Leave now, or I will remove you myself.”

  A polluted laugh fumes from my chest, and I lean in toward him before I can stop myself. “Go on. I dare you.” My eyes burn with the flash of my challenge, my pupils taking on the heat of this airborne rage, and I want him to. I want him to try to grab me, to try to move me. Because right now, unaccountable violence is screeching through my veins and tightening the ribbons at my spine.

  Do it, I chant wordlessly.

  For the first time since his arrogant ass walked over here, the captain falters. His eyes sweep over my face like he’s assessing an opponent and suddenly doesn’t know if he brought the right weapon.

  Then, his hand shifts, and my eyes snap down to the movement, my fingertips tingling. But before his palm even rises an inch, he stops himself, grip moving to the hilt of his sword.

  My gaze lifts back up to his face. “That’s what I thought,” I chirp with smug vindication.

  His face goes mottled with red-purple rage. “If you were my saddle, I’d have you flogged in the streets.”

  “Well, I’m not. And pity to the poor saddles who do service you. I hope you pay them well,” I counter, eyes dragging over his less than appealing form.

  For a second, he looks like he’s debating if he can get away with that flogging he mentioned. I imagine it—him trying to punish me, the look on his face when he realizes his mistake as I pinch my bare fingers into his skin.

  No one would be able to stop me. Not my guards, not the captain, not even Midas.

  I could abandon my plan of waiting and gaining information, of escaping beneath the cover of secrecy. Instead of trying to slip between the knuckles of Midas’s tight grasp, I could let myself fly into this budding tangent that’s blooming in my chest. I could let gold drip from my fingers and solidify every obstacle that crosses my path.

  This sudden realization of my true capability bites like the sharpest beak of a bird. I’ve never felt so powerful, or perhaps I’ve never really comprehended what I’m capable of, because I’ve been reined with fears and doubts, led with manipulations.

  Punish him, a dark voice murmurs in my ear.

  I barely feel it when my hand moves and tugs off my left glove. I don’t feel it when my ribbons begin to slither down the backs of my legs like serpents ready to strike.

  There’s a small, strange smile tipping up the corners of my lips, and that’s about all I can feel. That, and the echoing call of darkness screeching through my skull.

  My hand lifts, bare finger pointed with purpose, and my blood trills even as my vision tunnels. I don’t have time to stop and think, to consider what the hell I’m doing, because this Divine-damned darkness has taken flight inside of me, and it’s all I know.

  “What are you doing?” the captain asks, voice uneven, eyes wary.

  I barely hear him over my pounding heart, pulse blaring at my temples. The beat strums in a challenge: Do it. Do it. Do it.

  Just one touch. That’s all it would take. My finger gets closer, ribbons tightening, and—

  “I see you’re awake, Goldfinch.”

  The dark, sensual voice snaps my devouring anger in half, yanking me from my trance-like state.

  My sense of self trickles over me slowly, like the first drops of a rainfall. I blink, staring at my hand that’s just inches away from the captain’s frowning face.

  “Toying with the wall watch?”