Glint (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 2)

by Raven Kennedy

  I get no time to reply before he walks out. With a defeated sigh, I push up and get dressed, and by the time I step outside, there are already two soldiers waiting there to break down the tent.

  I mutter an apology for keeping them waiting and head to the fires for food, only to find that those have been put out early too. I find Keg next to a cart, passing out dried rations, which sends the men grumbling. The porridge may not taste any better, but it’s hot, and that does wonders for morale when you’re stuck marching through frozen wastelands.

  “Morning, Gildy,” Keg says, passing me a hard roll and a dried strip of salted meat.

  “Morning.”

  Keg’s usual banter is cut short, since all the soldiers are in a rush, the tents being broken down, horses being drawn, impatience thick in the air. I take my cue and wander away to leave him to it, biting off bits of food so chewy it makes my jaw ache.

  When I get to my carriage, I’m surprised to find Lu there helping my driver hitch up the horses.

  Lu turns with a cocked brow when she sees me. “Gildy Locks,” she says before turning to tighten the strap she’s working on.

  “Morning, Lu.” I run a gloved hand over the horse’s neck, admiring his sleek black hair.

  Finishing, she pats the horse on the back and faces me. “Someone pissed in the commander’s stew. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

  My face grows hot. “No.”

  I must fail miserably at trying to keep an impassive expression, because she grunts. “Mm-hmm. Thought so.”

  I suddenly become very interested in the horse’s mane, making sure to keep my eyes trained on it.

  “Can I give you some advice, Gildy?”

  I shift on my feet. “Umm...sure.”

  “Own your shit.”

  My gaze snaps over to her. “What?”

  Lu sighs and glances over at the driver, who just climbed up into the carriage’s seat. “Take a walk, Cormac.”

  Pausing in his almost-seated position, the man lets out a sigh, but he turns and climbs down, walking away without argument. It’s more than a little impressive that she can give an order and men will follow it.

  When we’re alone with the horses and a slowly lightening sky, Lu leans against the wall of the carriage to face me. She watches me for a moment, like she’s studying me, reading something in my eyes. “We’re women in a man’s world. I’m sure you know how that is.”

  I dip my chin. “I do.”

  “Good,” she says with a terse nod, the shaven blades in her scalp stabbing down with the movement. “Then you know that we have two options.” She lifts a finger. “The first is, we can conform. Be what they want, act to please. It’s the safe option.”

  I fidget on my feet. Every part of me is listening, attention rapt, though uneasiness mingles alongside my intrigue. “And option two?”

  She holds up a second finger, but instead of doing it on the same hand, she raises her other. I don’t know why that feels significant, but it does.

  “Option two is harder. It’s harder for us,” she admits, looking me straight in the eye. “There will always be someone who will try to make us choose option one. But don’t. Don’t lie down to make it easier for the world to keep you under its thumb. Own your shit and choose yourself.”

  She drops her hands, and I know right then that she knows what I did—that I sent that letter. What I don’t get is why I’m not shackled in chains, tossed in the prisoner’s cart with the rest of Midas’s guards.

  “You and I are different, though,” I tell her thickly. “You’re a warrior, and I’m...” My sentence trails off because I don’t even know.

  I don’t know what I am now.

  I do know what I was. I was a little fae girl who got ripped from her world. I was sold to flesh traders. I was used as a beggar before I got old enough to be used in other ways.

  I was hopeless.

  Then with Midas, he changed that, and I got to be something else, something I’d always hoped to be.

  Safe.

  But is that enough? Is it enough now, to just be that?

  “You’re what you choose to be,” Lu tells me, and for some reason, I feel like crying.

  My throat bobs as I pull the hood over my head, the sky bringing a gray, overcast dawn with a prickling on my skin. “What does this have to do with Rip?” I ask quietly.

  She lifts a shoulder. “Nothing. Everything. You’ll have to decide that, too, Gildy.”

  Lu pats the horse again, slipping a hand into her pocket before pulling out a couple of sugar cubes that she feeds to them. “I will tell you one more thing, though.”

  “What?”

  She smiles down at the nuzzled snout of the horse before turning that expression on me. “That fae female I saw in the fight circle?” she begins, her voice just a murmur in the cresting dawn. “She was a warrior too. And in my professional opinion, she could be a great one.”

  Lu leaves, as light on her feet as always, a bird taking flight.

  I get into the carriage silently, and my hand comes down to press against my waist, fingers tapping over my ribbons with a small smile at my lips.

  Warrior.

  Yes, I think I would like to be that.

  Chapter 30

  AUREN

  “You call that a block? My three-year-old niece could get through that shitty stance!”

  Sweat is pouring down my face as I drop my aching arms with a glare sent in Judd’s direction. “I’m trying!”

  He’s been dancing circles around me, smacking me around with a wooden sword, while I’ve tried and failed to block him.

  He made me a smaller version of a fight circle by dragging his foot through the snow around us, and I’ve been getting my ass handed to me inside of it for well over two hours.

  “You’re not trying hard enough,” he counters, coming to stop in front of me. “Where are your instincts? Did you drop them back in Highbell?”

  I grit my teeth, wishing I could pluck his mustard-plant hair right from the roots. He grins in my flustered face, like he knows it.

  Lu and Osrik are on the sidelines, just the four of us for the second night in a row. After my talk with Lu, I thought long and hard all day in the carriage.

  By the time we stopped for the night, I was practically bouncing with nervousness. I wasn’t sure she’d go along with it, but when I asked if she’d help train me, she grinned and led the way, bringing Judd and Osrik along.

  We’re careful though, making sure to train far away from camp, away from watching eyes. Tonight, there are only a couple of torches and the glow of a weak moon to light up our space, but it’s enough.

  So far, only Judd has gotten into the fight circle with me. I have a feeling I couldn’t handle Lu and Osrik.

  Lu, because she’s damn quick on her feet, and even though she’s smaller than Judd, I can tell she’s fierce. And Osrik...the man is a damn beast, and even though he seems to not hate me anymore, his scowl still scares me.

  Right now, they’re both drinking on a shared fur outside the circle, calling out the occasional piece of advice, like, “Stop getting hit.”

  Really helpful stuff.

  “We’re way out here, freezing our asses off so that you can use your ribbons without being seen,” Judd points out with a shake of his head. “But you forget to use them every time.”

  I stop to put my hands on my hips, stretching my chest so I can better catch my breath. I didn’t even know it was possible to be this overheated when I’m surrounded by ice.

  “It’s not that I forget,” I explain. “I’ve just always taught myself to hide them and hold them back, ever since they sprouted when I was fifteen. It’s been ingrained into me.”

  “Well, un-ingrain it!” Osrik barks out. See? Really helpful.

  I shoot him a dry look. “Thanks, I’ll try that.”

  Judd regains my attention by clapping his hands. He’s s
hirtless again, but I’m not going to complain, because the sight almost makes up for me getting thoroughly walloped.

  “They’re your greatest asset, Gildy. You need to use them to your advantage.”

  Sighing, I look down at the ground, the feeling of failure winding around me like threads on a spool. “I know.”

  I hear heavy footsteps trod forward, and then Osrik is bearing down on me, scowl and all. “She just needs proper motivation.”

  Without warning, he cocks back his fist and sends it flying forward, landing a brutal punch against my shoulder like solid stone launched from a catapult.

  I’m knocked off my feet with the contact and fall on my ass in the snow, teeth gritted from the hit. “Ouch!” I snarl.

  Osrik looks down at me without remorse, huge arms crossed in front of him like he’s bored. “That was my half-punch. You went down like a sack of rocks.”

  “You hit like a sack of rocks,” I grumble.

  I push up to my feet, my shoulder feeling like it nearly knocked right out of its socket. I roll it back tenderly with a wince on my face. “I’d hate to feel your full-punch.”

  “Too bad, ’cause that’s next.”

  My eyes widen as he raises his fist again, but before he can land a hit on my other shoulder, three of my ribbons snap up in response. They shoot out, wrapping around his wrist and forearm, their satin lengths gone firm as steel.

  He tries to jerk away, but my ribbons don’t let his arm move an inch. His teeth gleam behind his bushy beard. “See? Motivated.”

  Lu claps. “There you go, Gildy!”

  I release a smug-looking Osrik, but my own lips twitch with pride that I finally managed to stop a hit.

  “Alright, let’s stop for tonight,” Judd says, grabbing his shirt from the ground and tugging it on. “It’s freezing balls out here.”

  Lu rolls her eyes as she comes over. “And they say women are the weaker sex. Men are only as strong as those sensitive dangly bits between their legs.”

  I laugh, reaching down to scoop up a handful of untouched snow to stuff in my parched mouth. It feels heavenly, crunching through the flakes as they melt on my tongue, cooling my heated body.

  “Interested in my dangly bits, are you?” Judd smirks at her.

  “Only their whereabouts so I know where to aim my kick when you piss me off,” she drawls.

  Both Judd and Osrik grimace, like they’re imagining her doing just that. She shoots me a wink.

  The guys pick up the two torches they brought out here, while Lu plucks up the bottle of wine and fur before we all start the trek back to camp.

  “Here you go, your ribbons earned it,” Lu says, passing me the bottle of wine.

  “My ribbons earned it? Not me?”

  “Yep. Your ribbons take charge when you’re threatened or pissed and you forget to hold them back. But you need to start taking charge of them. Have more control, learn how to use each one to your best advantage.”

  Nodding, I lift the bottle to my lips and tip it back, gulping down the last bit of wine left at the bottom.

  “You essentially have two dozen more limbs. You could really fuck shit up if you learn how to use them,” Judd says from my other side.

  I feel my ribbons puff up slightly like they felt his ego stroke.

  The last drop of wine lands on my tongue before I pull the bottle away and hold it at my side. “Isn’t this a little counterproductive for you guys?”

  Lu looks over. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I’m technically your enemy, and you’re training me to fight.”

  Judd nudges me slightly, but I flinch because I’m already bruised up from all the hits I didn’t block. He notices and grins. “You’re not our enemy.”

  ...Yet.

  I hear the unsaid word from all three of them, an unspoken question that hovers in the frigid air, freezing into something solid but untouched.

  “Why are you doing it, though?” I press. “If you know I’m going back?”

  To him. Going back to him.

  “I guess we’re just waiting to see how this plays out, Gildy Locks,” Lu says vaguely.

  “You’re not ready for us, anyway,” Osrik says. “You can’t even take a little tap to the shoulder.”

  I whip my head to the left to glare at him. “It was not a little tap.”

  He shrugs. “You need to toughen up.”

  No argument there.

  “So, are you three the only members of Rip’s Wrath?” I ask curiously.

  “First the enemy talk, and now you’re trying to suss out our secrets?” Judd asks with an arched brow.

  I quickly shake my head. “Sorry. I was just curious. You don’t have to answer.”

  He hums. “Enemies are usually much better at espionage than this, aren’t they?”

  The other two nod in agreement.

  My steps falter. “No, I swear, I’m not—”

  All three of them laugh, cutting me off. “We’re just fucking with you,” Lu tells me.

  I let out a breath of relief. “Oh.”

  They chuckle a bit more...but I notice that none of them actually answer my question.

  The four of us crest a shallow slope and then cross into the camp, still noisy with soldiers carrying on around their fires, crude tavern songs being sung from deep bass voices.

  “More training soon, Gildy,” Judd calls.

  “Yeah, and be better at it,” Osrik says.

  I see Lu elbow him in the gut, hard enough that the monolith actually grunts and rubs his stomach.

  With a smile, I break away from the three Wraths, feeling oddly energized despite how badly I just got my ass handed to me. With an idea sparking in my head, I veer away from my original direction and go in search of Keg.

  I find him at his fire of course, but he’s done serving for the night and is propped up against a nearby tent with a harmonica at his mouth.

  He’s blowing out a tune I don’t recognize—one that lilts, hard to keep up with his quick breaths. There are a dozen or so soldiers around him playing dice, but when Keg sees me, he pulls the instrument from his lips.

  “Ho, Gildy!”

  Smiling, I walk over to him. “You play really well.”

  He nods. “I don’t just make amazing food.”

  Someone nearby snorts. Keg chooses to ignore him.

  I look down at the harmonica, at its polished surface. “Did you make that yourself?”

  “No, my gramps did. He’s the one who taught me.”

  “It’s beautiful,” I say, noting the engravings that resemble grains of wheat.

  “Wanna have a go?” he offers, holding it up to me.

  I shake my head. “I only play harp.”

  A whistle shrills through his teeth. “Harp? Damn, that is fancy, castle girl.”

  I won’t tell him that my harp was made of solid gold.

  “Maybe one day I’ll hear you play,” he says, dropping his hand. “But if you’re not here for food or music, then to what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “I was actually wondering if you could help me with something.”

  His eyes grow curious. “Let’s hear it.”

  “How hard would it be to scrounge up a makeshift bath?”

  Keg’s black brows lift up as he shoves his spun hair over his shoulder. “A bath? In a traveling army?”

  I shrug. “You’ve got the biggest soup pot around, so I figured if anyone knew how to make it happen, it would be you.”

  He taps his finger to his lips in thought before jumping to his feet. “Alright, I got it. Come on.”

  With an excited smile, I follow him through camp, and he leads me to the tent specifically set up to do laundry. Stepping beneath the tarp, I look around at the giant soaking trays, deep enough to fit a smaller person, long enough if they bend their knees. A smile curves my lips. “Keg, you’re a genius.”

  “Cook, musician, genius,” he ticks off.
“My attributes just grow and grow.”

  A few of the soldiers using the space look over at us, and Keg snaps his fingers. “Ho there!” He points at a pair of them. “We need that tray.”

  The soldiers frown, but they pull out their dripping wet clothes, still soapy, and toss them into the next tray over.

  “Good, now we’re gonna need your help carrying it,” Keg says.

  The soldiers share a confused look. “Carry it where?”

  Keg looks over to me.

  “Oh, umm, I’ll lead the way.”

  The soldiers hesitate, but with another snap from Keg, they tip the large tin basin of water over, dumping it right outside the tent. When it’s empty, they lift it between them.

  “Lead the way, Gildy,” Keg says.

  Smiling, I grab a handful of cubed soap pieces from the ground and stuff them into my pocket. Then I hurry out with Keg beside me, the two soldiers dutifully following after us.

  I pick the quickest way, having long since memorized the path. Keg frowns beside me. “Aren’t we going to your tent?” he asks.

  Shaking my head, I say, “The bath isn’t for me.”

  He shoots me a confused look but doesn’t say anything else as I make our way through camp, only stopping once we reach the saddles’ tent.

  I point to the ground next to the crackling campfire. “You can set it there, please.”

  The soldiers guarding the saddles look up in surprise. “What’s that for?”

  My helpers set the tray down with a shrug and then walk away. The guards turn to me and Keg for an explanation.

  “It’s for the saddles. So they can have a proper bath, wash their clothes, their hair...” I say.

  The guards shake their heads. “I don’t think so.”

  “It’s a bath,” I argue. “They aren’t criminals. Their only wrongdoing was being caught by the Red Raids, and then by you. They’ve been cooped up in that small tent and given only rags and snow to wash with,” I go on, my tone unrelenting. “So you two are going to help me fill this thing with snow, let it melt by the fire, and then you’re going to make it so those saddles can bathe in peace.”

  I don’t know who’s more stunned by my order—the guards, Keg, or myself.