Gleam (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 3)

by Raven Kennedy

  Watching her is like watching an old version of myself. She’s dazzled by him, by all the pretty things, by all the security that his promises come with. How could she not be? When that man turns his smiles and nice words onto you, it’s hard not to fall under his spell. Mist and I are more alike than she’d ever want to believe.

  “I’m giving him something that no one else has.” Honest pride shines through her expression as her hand settles over her bump once more. “He makes sure I have everything I request. Food, clothes, mender visits... He’s already so devoted to me, surrounds me with every comfort.”

  Instead of her and this pretty purple room, I’m seeing my bedroom at the highest level of Highbell, and all the pretty things he gave to me. I’m seeing my walls slowly closing in with gilded bars, an invisible chain clamped around my ankles.

  I clear my throat, trying to sort through the pity that’s risen inside of it, but the lump won’t go down.

  “It bothers you, doesn’t it?” Mist asks, taking in my expression.

  “Yes,” I answer honestly. “But not for the reasons you think.”

  Her grip on the needles tightens, and the mood in the room tightens with it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “I’m not a threat to you,” I say, but I can see she doesn’t believe me, and honestly, why would she?

  “Of course you’re not,” she retorts with prim derision. “I’m carrying his baby, Auren. One day, my child will wear a crown.”

  I blink at her in surprise. “I...I thought...well, considering you’re not his wife...”

  “The king told me himself,” she bites out, face flushing with anger. “My child will be claimed as legitimate and be given everything, while I’ll be taken care of for the rest of my life.”

  I’m so shocked by this that all I can do is stare at her.

  A pointed finger jabs toward my face. “See? You’re jealous. You wanted to be the one to carry his child, but it’s me, and you hate it.” The venom from her words makes her heave with breath. “Nothing was ever good enough for you, I saw it. We all did, Rissa included.”

  The saddle in question arches a brow but says nothing to argue that fact.

  Mist is on a roll she won’t seem to stop, wanting to flatten me, a boulder of weight to ostracize me. My ribbons tighten like a fist around my hips as she gets to her feet, the sorry scraps of her baby’s knit cap falling forgotten at her feet. “It’s me the king adores right now, it’s me whose baby will one day sit on the throne, and you hate it. Admit it.”

  I get to my feet stiffly, because my spine is itching, like my golden lengths are anticipating her to lunge at us.

  “I’m giving him an heir,” she hurls at me, the anger of her words like nails she wants to rake down my face. “What did you ever give him other than a gilded cunt?”

  My ribbons squeeze so hard around me that they nearly cut off my air.

  What did I give him?

  A queen. A kingdom. A crown.

  Immeasurable wealth.

  Myself.

  But this irate woman standing in front of me, she wouldn’t listen to any of that even if I confessed every sordid piece of it. I can see the truth of that in the sheen in her narrowed eyes, emotions clinging and threatening to spill. Her hate for me is all sharp corners and staggering weight, but beneath it, there’s a bleak fear that I know all too well.

  “I’ll see myself out.”

  Mist’s face twists. “Yeah, get out!” she snarls, attention flicking to Rissa, who rises to her feet. “I don’t want her in here ever again.”

  Rissa murmurs something placating, but I’m halfway across the room already. Whatever it is that she said didn’t settle well, because Mist’s tone goes shrill. “I don’t care. I’m carrying the king’s baby and she’s jealous. She’s jealous that I’m his new favorite!”

  I tug open the door and stride out, passing the guards without a word. I just walk. Walk and walk and walk, as if the distance I put between Mist and me will dispel the hostility she spewed.

  Before I can reach the end of the corridor, Rissa catches up to me, dress swishing against the floor. She says nothing for a moment, but I find myself falling into step with her as she heads back to the saddle wing, the guards trailing after us.

  “Mist is... She’s not in the best place right now,” she finally says.

  “You don’t have to apologize for her. I’m not angry.”

  Rissa glances at me out of the corner of her eye as if she’s not quite sure she believes me. But it’s true.

  Mist doesn’t hate me. Not really. She hates the threat I represent. She’s acting like a cornered animal because she thinks that I can take away her comfort, her safety, her relevancy in Midas’s life. How can I be angry when she thinks I’m going to ruin her life?

  With a sigh, I try to shrug off everything from that room, glancing at Rissa as she practically glides down the hall. “How can you stand to wear those Fifth Kingdom corsets?” I ask, changing the subject.

  She smirks over at me. “I take small breaths.”

  I chuckle a little, grateful that she’s helping me leave behind what just happened with Mist. “It makes your boobs look great, though,” I say, and one of the guards behind us coughs.

  Rissa nods. “It really does.”

  When we reach the door to the saddle wing, we step inside and leave the guards behind in the hall. My anticipation notches up, curiosity burning to know what she has to tell me. We tuck ourselves into the corner of the empty sitting room, checking first to make sure no one is around.

  “I didn’t find any blueprints or maps again last night,” I say immediately.

  “And your guard?” she asks, because I’ve already filled her in on that—on my need to bring him along.

  I shake my head. “I’ve tried sneaking out to look for him, but the lower levels where I suspect he’s being held are always guarded.”

  Her lips turn down with disappointment. “So, basically, this is the same news as yesterday. And the day before that.”

  A frustrated sigh escapes me. “I’m trying.”

  She holds out a hand. “You do have gold for me at least, don’t you?”

  Digging into my pocket, I pull out a gilded leaf and pass it over. She inspects it before tucking it away in her cleavage, and then without preamble, she says, “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that your failure to find the maps or secret passages isn’t a problem any longer. I have a different plan.”

  I blink at her. “What do you mean?”

  “We don’t need a hidden path away from the guards’ eyes. We’re going to walk right out the front doors of the castle.”

  My brows dig in close together. “And exactly how do you expect we’re going to do that?”

  Determination solidifies in the pull of her shoulders. “We leave the night of the celebration ball.”

  “The ball?” My head is already shaking. “You want to try to leave the night this place will be filled with hundreds of eyes as opposed to dozens? We can’t slip out then, Rissa. We’re expected to attend. The king will notice our absence immediately.”

  “He’ll be distracted,” she argues. “It’s the only time. There will be hundreds of carriages, workers, deliveries, enough bustle to create distractions. No one will be paying attention to people coming and going in their finery.”

  I bite my lip, mind spinning.

  “You haven’t found a path for us to sneak out of, Auren. This is the only other way. And I’m sorry, I know you want to bring this guard with you, but you might not find him by then, and...” Her words trail off, but I know what she isn’t saying. He might not even be here. He might be dead. He might be too hurt to travel.

  My stomach twists in knots.

  “The ball is too risky. He’ll notice our absence much quicker.”

  “It’s all a risk,” Rissa points out. “And I won’t wait any longer for you. I can’t miss my chance.”

&n
bsp; The warning is as clear as her blue eyes—there’s no talking her out of this, because she’s already decided.

  “I arranged transportation for that night. It will be tight with the four of us, not at all comfortable, but we’ll be hidden, and we’ll get away without anyone the wiser. All we have to do is get past the gated walls.”

  “I—wait. Did you say four?”

  Rissa’s eyes shutter, but she tips up her chin. “You added this guard you want to bring along. I added someone too.”

  “Who?”

  “Polly.”

  “Rissa!” I hiss, head shaking. “Polly can’t be trusted. I know she’s your friend, but she hates me, and she—”

  “This is non-negotiable,” Rissa replies, tone hardened. “If you get to bring your guard, I get to bring her.”

  My panic reels. “You didn’t tell her about this plan, did you?”

  “Of course not,” she snaps.

  I run a hand down my face, my mind blaring with all the reasons this is a bad idea. “Rissa…”

  Her bottom lip is trapped between her teeth before she drops her voice and says, “Look, I know how you two feel about each other. But Polly and I have been through a lot together, and she deserves better than being stuck here with her thighs spread and her mind jumbled. She’s addicted to dew, and it’s killing her. I can’t just leave her here.”

  I stare at her a moment before letting out a sigh. “Ugh. Fine.”

  Her body relaxes a fraction, the corners of her eyes not looking quite so strained.

  I can’t fault her for trying to save Polly, especially not when I’m doing the same thing with Digby. And she’s right about the night of the ball. Things around the castle will be hectic, crawling with a crowd that perhaps even a gold-skinned female can blend into.

  But...the ball is only four days away.

  Four days.

  And suddenly, that number of days seems very, very small.

  “So the ball? You’ll find your guard by then and be ready to leave?” she prompts, heeled foot tapping against the polished floor. “I need an answer, Auren.”

  I swallow down a lump that’s formed in my throat and wipe my slick palms against my dress, nervousness flooding my skin. “Yes.”

  Somehow, I have to find Digby, and then we’ll be making an escape right under Midas’s watchful brown eyes. This is what I’ve been working toward. This is what I decided is best.

  Yet as I leave Rissa to head for the library, my eyes aren’t filled with the excited determination. No, they’re filled with tears.

  Because in order to escape one king...I have to leave behind two.

  Chapter 24

  AUREN

  After talking to Rissa, I head for the antechamber, leaving Scofield and Lowe to stay perched on the benches while I go into the library. I creep around inside, trying not to get caught by the robed scribes, who are way too protective of the mildewed books and unreadable scrolls.

  If I wasn’t in constant worry of being caught, I’d be able to look for the castle’s blueprints unhindered and uninterrupted, but I don’t have that luxury. So I search the forgotten stacks, rifling through neglected shelves as I squint in the terrible lighting. On hands and knees or stretched up on tiptoes, I scour the place, only to have to skitter away whenever someone walks by.

  But what have I found during all my time searching?

  Nothing.

  Which tells me I’m not looking in the right spots. I have a bad feeling that they might be kept at the front of the room, but that’s the one place I can’t go, because there’s always that one scribe there who caught me before, body bowed over the table and scratching away with his quill.

  I’m probably going to leave empty-handed again tonight, and that terrifies me. Because with Rissa’s new plan, time is breathing down my neck now more than ever. I might have to abandon this idea of finding a map and start searching on foot instead. I have no idea how I’m going to avoid all of the guards in this place though.

  I don’t want to fail—myself or Digby. And I don’t want to be failed, either.

  At that awful dinner, with the way Midas treated me, there was a moment when I wanted Slade to intervene. To show me that his previous words were true.

  I let myself hope.

  Since we kissed on my balcony, this thing between us has grown. Expanded. Just like he was accused of encroaching on Fulke’s territory, Slade has encroached on me. On my emotions.

  I tried to fold it up. Creased it with denial, tucking it beneath the furthest recesses of my thoughts. But like a finger slipping beneath the flap of a letter, I couldn’t resist the temptation to open it, to see what was inside.

  Now, all I have are empty words and paper cut pains radiating from my chest, because he didn’t prove it to me like he said he would.

  My stupid heart hasn’t learned its lesson, it seems. So I have to get out of here before it ruins me completely.

  Suppressing a sneeze from the dusty air, I get to my feet, sore knees popping from all the time I’ve spent kneeling on the hard floor rummaging through scrolls. I didn’t find anything in this stack but old birth records of Fifth’s monarchs.

  Real exciting stuff.

  With a huff, I drag myself away, delving deeper into the cavernous room and wishing for the hundredth time that there was more light in this place.

  I wander over to a bookshelf that’s cut right into the wall. A single sconce hangs on the left, a good foot away from the nearest shelf and casting off a pitiful amount of light. Honestly, there’s enough dust on these books that they’d probably smother any flame that dared try to burn anything.

  Squinting, I let my fingers drag across the book spines just enough to read the titles. When nothing helpful leaps out at me, I stand up on my tiptoes to look at the scrolls at the top, but just as my fingers close around some, footsteps clop my way.

  With a silent grumble, I abandon the shelf and hurry in the opposite direction, cursing whichever scribe is interrupting me. I’m never going to find these stupid maps at this rate.

  As I head for the first bookcase to duck behind, another pair of footsteps sounds from that direction. The two scribes begin to talk quietly as they near each other, their voices echoing off the walls and making it sound like they’re much closer than I first thought.

  I whirl on my heel and rush back the way I came and then dart between two shelves, not even paying attention to where I’m going, so long as it’s far away from them.

  The voices converge somewhere to my left, and then their steps fall into unison as they walk together. Toward me. Again. I shoot a look at the ceiling as if I can see straight through to the night sky and curse the goddesses hiding in the stars.

  I cut a sharp right to the next aisle of stacks, and then another one, and another. The library swallows me in its dark belly, but it’s worth it, because soon, I put enough distance between us that I don’t hear the scribes speaking anymore. I stop to catch my breath, ears straining, and finally relax after several seconds when no other sounds greet me.

  Unfortunately, the deep breaths I keep pulling in means I inhale a whole lot of dust, and my nose tingles violently. All I manage to do is slap a hand over my mouth before the sneeze ruptures out of me.

  It echoes.

  Loudly.

  I freeze in horror, heart taking off like a wild horse, not daring to even breathe as I listen for the scribes to come running my way.

  “Bless you.”

  A shriek clutches my tongue and crumples beneath my throat. Hand on heart, I spin around and find none other than Slade leaning against the stone bookshelf. With dark clothes, piercing green eyes, and power curling over his sharp jaw, he practically basks in the shadows.

  “Don’t do that!” I snap, though my voice is barely louder than an exhale. I’ve made enough noise as it is.

  With his arms crossed in front of him and a smirk on his pale face, the bastard looks perfectly at ease
and amused as hell.

  “Do what?” he asks with a cock of his head. “Say bless you?”

  I look over my shoulder as if I’m ready for the scribes to storm the row and grab me with their frail, age-spotted hands.

  “Be quiet!” I hiss.

  This time, he does nothing to hide his amusement, because his teeth gleam in the dark as a smile spreads over his face. “Only you would dare tell King Rot to be quiet.”

  “Maybe more people should...” I mumble.

  A low rumbling chuckle rolls around in his chest like loosening stones before the rockslide.

  He doesn’t get a chance to reply to my rudeness, because just then, a scribe suddenly appears at the end of the aisle, making my stomach drop like a boulder.

  Face aglow with the lantern in his bony hands, the orangish cast-off makes the man look scary, long white hair like a drape of fire. Dressed in heavy purple robes that sweep against the floor, his eyes immediately land on me with an indignant glare. “What are you doing in here?”

  My mouth goes dry, mind fumbling with an excuse. “Umm...”

  He comes closer, and I back up a step, my hopes and plans crashing down around me. All of this because of a stupid sneeze.

  “You don’t have permission to be in here.”

  I don’t know if the lantern light is throwing off his vision or if the shadows surrounding Slade are too heavy, but the scribe doesn’t seem to notice the king behind me until Slade moves.

  Like the wind, he picks up and brushes past until he’s standing at my side like a cool caress. “I gave her permission to be in here.”

  The scribe’s eyes widen, mouth gaping for a moment. “King Ravinger. I didn’t see you there,” he says, bending his hunched spine into a bow.

  Slade says nothing, but all previous signs of his amusement are gone. There isn’t a single lingering touch of his easygoing energy left, but I’m honestly grateful. It makes it easier to keep an emotional distance from him when his kingly mask is on.

  “Apologies, Your Majesty, but this is the royal library. Those outside of royal lineage are not allowed inside,” the nervous scribe says.