Gild (The Plated Prisoner 1)

He doesn’t reply, just walks me over to my carriage and pops the door open, eyeing me. He’s obviously not going to be talked out of it, and I don’t see Crisp anyway.

I sigh in defeat. “Fine,” I grumble. “But as soon as it’s dry, I’m riding next to you, and I’m going to talk for hours,” I warn him.

I can’t be sure, but I think the corner of his mouth tilts up, just a bit. I point at it. “Ha! You almost smiled,” I say victoriously before turning to Sail. “You saw it too, right?”

He nods with a grin. “Definitely.”

Digby rolls his eyes and hikes a thumb toward the inside of the carriage. “In.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I say before climbing into the carriage. Sail gives me a smile before shutting the door, and I lean back, settling against the cushioned seat as our group begins to move forward once more. At least my legs and back had a nice reprieve from riding, my muscles no longer sore.

I loosen my hair out of the braid, hoping that it’ll help to dry it quicker. I’m already bored out of my mind, and I’ve only been in here for a few minutes. I lean against the carriage wall and close my eyes, wondering how many days we still have of travel before we reach Fifth Kingdom. I know the storm set us back, but I’m not sure by how much.

The steady rocking of the carriage must make me fall asleep, because the next thing I know, my eyes are flying open. I look around the carriage, noting that the small lantern inside has died out.

My ribbons are curled up around me beneath my coat, offering me some extra warmth, and my hair is dry, the golden strands hanging behind my shoulders.

I’m disoriented as I look around the dark carriage, troubled as I try to pinpoint what woke me up. But then I realize, the carriage has stopped.

It’s still dark out, so I know we can’t have been traveling for very long. The carriage probably got stuck again, and the jolt woke me. I wipe the condensation off the window and look out, but all I can see is a thick veil of darkness.

I rap my knuckles against the glass. “Digby? Sail?”

I don’t get a response, and I don’t hear any of the men outside. A corrosive edge of panic threatens to slice into me, and my hand lifts up to the scar on my throat—something I haven’t done in days.

Scooting closer to the door, I press my face against the glass, attempting to see something, anything, out the window, but all that’s visible is the dimmest glow of snow on the ground. Everything else is bathed in darkness.

I grip the handle to go outside and investigate, but the door wrenches open, making me flinch back in surprise as Sail’s head pops in.

“Great Divine, you scared me. What’s happening?”

“Sorry, Miss Auren,” he says, his eyes flicking down to where my hand is holding my throat. I quickly drop it as he clears his throat. “Digby called a halt. The leads saw some disturbance in the snow, so he’s sent out some scouts.”

“What kind of disturbance?”

“Not sure yet.”

I move to get out, but Sail doesn’t step aside and instead gives me a sheepish look. “Digby wants you to stay in the carriage.”

I’m sure he does, but I can’t bear being stuck in here. That trapped feeling…

The second I stepped foot outside of the Highbell Castle, something changed. Like a plug pulled out of its drain, a decade’s worth of water, water that’s engulfed me completely, began to lower. Gone was the strain of holding my head above it. There was no sucking in breaths, counting them, reminding myself I had air, that the crushing flood wouldn’t suffocate me as I treaded water.

I can’t go back to that. Mentally, emotionally, even physically, the thought makes beaded sweat begin to gather against my skin, and I know, I just know that I can’t bear it.

Which is why, even though I’ve been ordered to remain, even though there might be danger outside, I can’t stay in here. It’s too cooped up, too reminiscent of that perpetual fight to float instead of sink.

So I shove past Sail and jump out into the dark.

Chapter Twenty-Two

My boots land nimbly on the snow as I jump down from the carriage. Sail gives a soft curse behind me, but he doesn’t argue, doesn’t try to get me to go back. I like that about him.

“Where are the other guards?”

He points. “Up ahead on the hill where they can get a better vantage point.”

I nod swiftly as we make our way through the snow. As we pass by the saddles’ carriages, women’s heads pop out the windows, straining to see what’s going on. The drivers wait steadfastly on their benches, keeping the horses from becoming too anxious as their hooves paw at the snow.