Gild (The Plated Prisoner 1)

At least I blend in with the decor. Bright side.

Slumping down, I lie on my stomach and cover myself in the blanket, doing my best to look lumpy and less person-y as I try to hold perfectly still.

“I don’t answer to you, Malina. I’m the king, and I rule as I see fit.”

“You deliberately left me out of this. You told me the army was moving out to run offense tactics,” she spits.

“They are,” Midas replies with a blasé tone.

I hear her scoff. “If we’re going to war, I should be consulted. Highbell is my kingdom, Tyndall. The Coliers have ruled it for generations,” she snaps back with vehemence. My brows rise in surprise at her daring.

“And yet, you’re the first child in the Colier family bloodline that inherited no power,” Midas retorts, his strong baritone echoing throughout the space. “Not only did you not develop any power, your family also dried up every last drop of coin in your coffers. This land was bankrupt before I came. You’d still be a ragged princess with a mountain of debts and no prospects if it weren’t for me. So don’t try to tout that Highbell is yours. You lost it the moment I walked up to your gates.”

My heart pounds in my chest. This is...very private. Not meant for my ears at all. Malina would want to cut mine off if she knew I was hearing this.

I shouldn’t, but I can’t stop myself from carefully hooking my finger under the blanket near my eyes and slowly lifting it up to peek. Through the small gap, I see the king and queen facing off about ten feet away, their expressions hot with fury and their eyes cold with hate.

Even though it’s no secret that the queen has no power, it’s never so openly thrown in her face like this. Or maybe it is. Maybe this is usual for them behind closed doors.

“That has nothing to do with it,” Queen Malina hisses at him. “The point is, you’re breaking peace treaties that the six kingdoms have held for centuries! And you did it without even discussing it with me!”

“I know what I’m doing,” he replies coolly in front of her. “And you’d do well to remember what it is you’re supposed to be doing, wife.”

She narrows her icy blue eyes. “What? Sit up in my rooms with my ladies-in-waiting, knitting and walking around the ice garden?” She shakes her head with a humorless laugh. “I’m not one of your saddles to be kept, Tyndall.”

“No, you’re definitely not one of my saddles,” he says, casting a look of contempt at her.

An angry blush stains her pale cheeks, and her hands fist into her skirts again. “And whose fault is it that you don’t visit my bed anymore?”

I cringe, my ears almost burning. I thought their talk was private before? This just got so much worse.

Midas scoffs. “You’re barren,” he tells her, and I don’t miss the way her head flinches back, as if he’d struck her with an open palm. “I’d rather not waste my time. Which is what this is,” he says, gesturing between them. “Wasted time. Now, if you’re done with your feminine fit, I have work to do.”

He starts to stalk away, but before he can take three steps, her voice stops him dead. “I know the truth, Tyndall.”

My eyes bounce between the two of them, wondering what truth she’s talking about.

Seconds pass. Midas’s shoulders are stiff as a board when he finally turns back around to face her. The look in his brown eyes is so vitriolic that the queen even takes a step back. Seems like she overplayed her hand. I just don’t know which cards she’s holding.

“I’d be very, very careful if I were you,” Midas tells her with quiet harshness.

A threat, plain and simple. The cruelty in his tone is enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck sit up. Malina watches him, and I’m riveted, barely even letting myself blink.

“Go back to your rooms,” he finishes coldly.

The queen swallows hard, but despite the tremble in her hands that she hides in her skirts, she tips her chin up before striding out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. She’s not a wilting flower, I’ll give her that.

Me, I’m too scared to breathe in the silence, and my heart is pounding against my chest like drums. I wait precious seconds, my cheeks puffed out with all the air I’m not letting out.

Midas takes a breath and tugs at his golden tunic to straighten it before running a hand over his hair to make sure not a single strand is out of place. After another moment, he turns to leave, exiting my line of sight. Only when I hear the door shut behind him, his footsteps receding, do I let out my breath.

I push back the blanket and sit up, knowing I need to get past the library undetected and back to my bedroom before Midas returns to the library. If he calls for me, and I’m not in my room, he’ll know I’m here and that I overhead the two of them, and that...that probably won’t go well for me.

Getting to my feet, I rush out of the atrium, down my private hallway, and then skid to a stop just outside the archway into the back of the library.

I can hear the advisors’ voices mumbling and King Fulke eating loudly as he breathes through his mouth. Chew, breathe, chew, breathe. It’s obnoxious. Daring to peek around the doorway, I find that everyone is thankfully facing the table, no one giving my caged portion any mind, and Midas isn’t back yet.

The sun is going down, taking the dim gray lighting with it, but the men won’t be finishing any time soon. The advisors will no doubt work through the night like they have for the past several days, and I don’t want to get stuck in here with them.