The first four carts aren’t covered, and they’re empty and smelling of leather, probably where the tents were stored. The next several are filled with bales of hay and barrels of oats for the horses, and after that, I come upon cart after cart of provisions for the soldiers. I’m running out of hope.
When I get to the last one, I see the square shape of some kind of crates—animal crates?
I duck behind it, praying to the great Divines that this is it. With a deep breath, I glance around before flipping the tarp back to check it, but as soon as I do, my hope drops straight through my sodden boots. Not crates. Just a cart full of tightly folded furs.
I stare at it in defeat, though I try to keep my emotions in check. I know I’m exhausted and emotionally bombarded, but this failure makes my shoulders slump and my eyes prick with panic.
Where the Divine hell are they? If I can’t warn Midas…
“You lost?”
I jerk at the voice, my hand dropping the tarp as I whirl around. I look up and up and up, finding a bear of a man towering over me.
I recognize him immediately, based on the mass of his body alone. Back on the pirate ship, Rip was flanked by two soldiers, and even though they had their helmets on at the time, I just know that this huge man was one of them, that he led Rissa and me off the ship.
Now, without his armor or his helmet, I see his round face, bottom lip pierced through with a short, twisted piece of wood resembling the sigil of Fourth Kingdom’s gnarled tree. He has brown leather straps wrapped around his thick biceps and black leather covering the rest of him.
Somehow, he seems even larger than before—a good three heads taller than me, legs as thick as tree trunks and fists as big as my face.
Great. I had to be discovered by this big bastard?
Honestly, I don’t know what I did to piss off the goddesses so much.
I tilt my chin up at the brown-haired brute, suddenly very glad that I visited the latrine, because he’s scary enough to make someone pee their frozen pants.
I clear my throat. “No.”
He lifts a bushy brow, brown eyes filled with a scowling suspicion, long hair hanging around his face and flattened at the top from its time in a helmet. “No? Then what are you doing over here, so far away from your tent?”
He knows where my tent is? That’s disturbing...
I turn and snatch a fur from the cart behind me, draping it over my shoulders. “I was cold.”
He gives me a look that tells me he doesn’t believe a single word out of my mouth. “Cold? Then maybe Midas’s golden pet should have gone to her tent.”
I tug the sleek black fur tighter around my shoulders. I’ve known men like this, they’re nothing but bullies. The worst thing to do is to let him walk all over me and make myself an even easier target.
I raise my chin. “Am I not allowed to walk around? Am I going to be forced in there against my will?” I challenge, because it’s what I expect, and I want to beat him to the chase.
The scowl on his face deepens, and my heart pounds in my chest like it wants to get out and go hide. I don’t really blame it. If this man wanted to, he could take my neck between his meaty hands and snap it in half.
Instead, he crosses his arms in front of him, his intimidating posture bearing down on me. “Rumor is, that’s exactly the way you like it, pet.”
Anger surges through me. That’s the second time tonight I’ve been looked at so scathingly, judged for the cage I live in.
“Better to be safe with the Golden King than to serve in the army of your rotten monarch who’s nothing but a scourge to the land,” I spit.
As soon as my words hit his ears, he goes preternaturally still.
I know I’ve made a mistake. I’ve way overstepped. I let him get to me, and I allowed my mouth to run away with my anger and fear instead of being that unmovable stone I need to be.
I went from standing up to a bully to bullying him back. Considering his heft, that probably wasn’t the smartest move.
I wasn’t paying attention to the murmuring voices at the campfire, but I do when I hear the soldiers go quiet. There’s a tinge of tense excitement in the air, as if they can’t wait to see what he’ll do to me.
My heart gallops with the need to flee, trapped in the thrumming of my pulse.
With deadly enmity, the man leans down until his face is just an inch from mine. Furious eyes glare bright, burning up any hope of air for me to breathe.
His voice goes as low as a warning growl from a wolf, and it makes my blood run cold. “Insult my king again, and I don’t care what color your fucking skin is, I’ll whip the flesh from your back until an apology sobs out of your throat.”
I swallow hard.
He means every word. Of that, I have no doubt, because I can see it in his face. He’ll toss me down in the snow, right here and make pain my only reality.
He nods as he looks me in the eyes. “Good. I can see you’re taking things more seriously now.” He’s still standing entirely too close, still stealing all my space, my air, an invisible bubble bursting with his invasive presence. “You’re not with that gilt prick Midas anymore. You’re here now, with us, so if I were you, I’d be respectful, and I’d make myself very useful.”
My eyes widen at the dark things his words imply, but he cuts off my train of thought.
“Not that. None of us are interested in having Midas’s gold-plated leftovers,” he sneers, and I immediately exhale in relief. But I shouldn’t. “You want to make your life easier? Then be the caged bird that you are and sing.”
Comprehension dawns on me like a jaundiced sun. “You think I’ll give you information? You think I’ll betray my king?”
He lifts a shoulder. “If you’re smart.”
Loathing hammers inside of me in a fierce melody. Whatever he sees in my eyes makes the cruel giant lean away, straightening up to his full height with a sigh. “Hmm. Maybe not. What a shame.”
My hands curl into fists. “I will never betray King Midas to you.”
A wicked grin splits his mouth. “We’ll see.”
The hammering melody skips, thumps, crashes into my gut. I don’t know whether I should be more offended that he thinks I’m so weak, or fearful that I’ll turn out to be.
“Where are the other saddles?” I ask suddenly, wanting to take the reins of the conversation and steer it in my favor. “The other guards?”
He says nothing, arrogance rising off him like steam.
I dig in my heels. “If any of you hurt them—”
He lifts his palm up to cut me off, and I notice an old scar there, a straight slice cut all the way across. “Careful, there,” he growls. “Fourth’s soldiers don’t take kindly to threats.”
My eyes dart to the left. Still sitting around the campfire, still quietly watching, the other soldiers within earshot are staring right at me, forearms leaned over knees, knuckles cracking, eyes glaring. Hatred glows over their faces alongside the orange flickering flames.
Whatever I was about to say on behalf of my traveling party dies beneath the smoking threat. Maybe this is the game. Maybe Commander Rip left me to wander on my own so that his soldiers would punish me however they wanted.
The man in front of me makes a noise of amusement, and I tear my eyes away from the others. “Run along now. Your tent is back that way. I assume Midas’s pet knows how to find her kennel?”
I give him a scathing look as the man turns and stomps away, settling his body at the campfire, joining the glaring men.
Holding the fur close to my chest, I turn away, feeling their sharp gazes on my back like the edge of a blade scratching down my spine. I walk away as quickly as I can without running, their mocking laughter tossed at my retreating form, making my cheeks burn.
I stick to the paths of footsteps that have made crude tracks in the snow, trying to keep my boots from sinking into the thicker patches as I take a more direct route to where my carriage
and tent—my apparent kennel—is located.
It could be my imagination, but every soldier I pass by eyes me with a gaze that feels heavier, more malignant. Without a word spoken to me, with only their exuding energy as a declaration, I’m put in my place.
I’m the enemy, one they expect will break. I may not have a guard at my heels, but they’re watching me. Ready to pounce. And still, none of them do.
I ignore them all, not looking at anyone, not faltering when their conversations immediately die down upon my passing. I keep my eyes forward as I walk, though my entire body is trembling, my skin tight, heart galloping.
I don’t care what they think, I won’t betray Midas. I won’t.
With every step in my cold, wet boots, I inwardly curse myself. I didn’t find where the messenger hawks are kept, and I was obvious enough to warrant that soldier approaching me. If I’m going to survive Fourth Kingdom’s army, I need to be better, smarter, stealthier.
And stronger. I need to be strong in the days to come.
Determined anger rises up in my chest, making me fist my hands inside the pockets of my coat. Tomorrow. I’ll try again tomorrow. And the next day. And the day after that. And the day after that.
I won’t give up until I’ve searched every inch of this damned army and found a way to warn Midas. And through it all, I won’t break. I won’t give them anything they could use against my king.
The commander thinks so little of me that he doesn’t even keep a guard on me, so I’ll repay him tenfold. I’ll use his cockiness to tear away their element of surprise, and I’ll do it with a smile on my golden lips.
They think I’ll buckle, but they’ll soon realize I’m not that kind of saddle.
Chapter 5
AUREN
I get lost on my way back trying to find my tent. At one point, I take a wrong turn and walk in a circle, passing by the same set of soldiers twice. They chuckle, sharing knowing looks, but not one of them offers to point me in the right direction, and I refuse to ask. They wouldn’t help me even if I did.
By the time I spot the black carriage I rode in all day, I sigh in relief, my teeth chattering, face cold despite the hood pulled over my head.
Heading to the carriage, I note that the tent Commander Rip told me to use is much farther off than the rest of the camp’s set up. Instead of clumped together with the others, it’s set off on the outskirts.
I pause in front of it, looking around. The nearest tent to mine is several yards away. It seems like it would be a good thing, more privacy allowed, but dread shifts through me.
There can only be one reason why my tent is so far away. It offers more chances for someone to sneak in, for them to hurt me without anyone hearing or seeing a thing. Easier for everyone to turn a blind eye and claim obliviousness.
With a lump forming in my throat, I step forward, only to frown down at the ground. Someone has shoveled a path straight to the tent flaps, clearing the way so my boots don’t sink into the deep snow.
I look around again, but no one is watching me. The nearest campfire is a good distance away, the soldiers bathed in shadow, not looking at me.
Why would someone shovel a path to make it easier for a prisoner to go to her jail? A quick glance around shows that the other tents don’t have the same treatment, trails made through the thick snow only by their booted steps.
Unable to shake off my uneasiness, I turn back to the tent and duck beneath the black leather flaps. Inside, I’m immediately greeted by a soft glow and a blanket of warmth that has my shaking body sagging in relief.
Kicking my boots off at the entry, I brush away as much of the snow as I can before straightening up and looking around.
The lantern is sitting on an upturned bucket next to me, but the delicious warmth and more of the glowing light is coming from a carefully arranged pile of smoldering coals in the middle of the floor. Circled with blackened stones, they give off enough warmth to make me whimper.
There’s a pile of sleek black furs in one corner and a pallet making up a bed on the other. Just as the commander promised, there’s a wooden tray with my dinner waiting for me, and there’s even a pitcher of water next to a bowl, a tiny square of soap, and a cleaning cloth.
I check the tent flaps, but there’s no way to secure it. Honestly, what would a leather tie do anyway? If someone wants to come in here, they will.
I bite my lip, considering, but I can’t just stand here too afraid to move. So I pull off the fur from around my shoulders and set it on the ground, though there’s already furs laid out on the floor, keeping the snow at bay. I sit down on it, my feet curling beneath me as I tug the tray onto my lap.
There’s a hunk of bread and a piece of salted meat, plus a bowl of some kind of broth. Even though it’s a modest soldier’s ration, my mouth waters and my stomach growls as if it’s the most delicious meal I’ve ever laid eyes on.
I immediately devour it, eating every bit and sucking down the lukewarm broth without coming up for air. The food hits my empty stomach, appeasing its angry hunger, and I feel instantly better.
When it’s all gone, I lick my fingers and lips, wishing I had more but knowing I’m lucky to have gotten this much. Everyone in this regime will be rationing as they march, and I doubt they’ll look kindly on their prisoner asking for more food.
I gulp down the pouch of ice-cold drinking water, no doubt collected from melted snowfall. I don’t care that it’s cold enough to make my teeth ache, it eases my cloying thirst in an instant.
Now that I’m fed and watered, the tempting furs are calling to me, but I know I need to wash first. Maybe it’s only in my head, but I swear I can still smell Captain Fane, and I want to scrub my skin clean of him, as if I can rinse away the memory of his hands on me, of my time with him on the ship.
It probably doesn’t help that I’m wearing the coat I stole from his room, but I can’t abandon it. It’s not like I have anything else to wear, and I gave Polly my other coat.
Careful not to bend the brown feathers out of place, I lay the coat on the floor and then quickly strip out of my heavy wool gown. Getting undressed without the help of my ribbons almost feels like I’m short a limb...or twenty-four.
I let my gown pool at my feet before lifting my legs up and peeling off my thick stockings. Left in only my golden chemise, I shiver despite the heat coming off the simmering coals. I need to be quick, because I don’t trust this privacy, not for a second. I quickly strip the rest of the way, hands trembling in both cold and anxiety.
Naked, I’m able to see my injuries for the first time. Just like I assumed, there’s a large bruise marked over my ribs where Captain Fane kicked me.
I brush my fingers over the tarnished spot, and even that slight touch makes me hiss in pain. It looks worse than I imagined, my entire left side black and mottled, like soot rubbed into the glint of my skin.
Dropping my hand away, I walk over to the pitcher and pour out the water into the shallow bowl. I dip the cloth into it, braced for icy water to wash with, but I’m pleasantly surprised that the coals have made it almost lukewarm.
All these furs, this private tent, steaming coals, food rations, water that’s not frozen, no guards trailing me, no chains to bind me… It seems like a bribe, some kind of play that the commander has planned.
That male doesn’t do anything that isn’t calculated. Maybe he’s giving me a false sense of security, tricking me into relaxing, softening me up, but I won’t fall for it. I will take advantage of it, though.
With a frown on my face, I quickly dampen my skin, stroking soapy water all over my body and then wiping down every inch of myself, including my ribbons.
I swipe the cloth over my arm, only to pause when I see a streak of red stained into the cloth. I stare at it, knowing it’s blood, knowing that it’s Sail’s.
I don’t know why I’m so shocked to see it. Even though I washed up on the ship, there was bound to still be some blood on me. I cau
ght him as he was dying, held him as he took his last breath.
Seeing it makes my eyes water. This is the last of him. The only thing I have. It may seem strange, but it’s his life. And I just washed it away, erasing him completely.
A sob shakes my lip, forcing me to tuck it between my teeth and hold it there. He’s gone. I’ll never see that smile in his blue eyes again, but I’ll always hear the last it’s okay on his lips.
My fault.
I wash the rest of my body in a haze of grief, vision clouded over like I’m walking through mist. I wish I knew where Digby was. It was easier to sleep knowing he was near, watching over me.
I feel so alone.
I finish up with my body, but I don’t attempt to wash my hair. Tackling the long golden strands and their countless tangles without the help of my ribbons is too daunting in my current state. Tomorrow. I’ll deal with that mess tomorrow.
By the time I dry myself off, my skin has pebbled from my calves to my chest, and I’m standing as close to the coals as I can without getting burned.
I bend down to pick up my chemise, but at that exact moment, the tent flap opens.
A burst of cold air flies in, provoking the chills already covering my body, but I freeze in an entirely different way, for an entirely different reason as Commander Rip steps inside.
Chapter 6
AUREN
I shouldn’t be startled by his sudden presence, but fear locks my knees and traps the breath in my throat, and for a second, I can’t move.
The commander stops short upon his entry, his black eyes widening when he sees my nakedness.
My momentary shock-stillness snaps, and I yank up the chemise to hold it in front of me. “What do you want?” I demand with a shrill voice, but I know. Of course I know, because it’s what all men want, and why should he be any different just because he’s fae?
Glint (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 2) Page 3