Gild (The Plated Prisoner 1)

Too far. We were just too far.

What will happen when our party never shows up to Fifth? How long until Midas sends scouts to search for us? Will he be able to find me? Will it be too late?

Guilt, acidic and hot, steams in my stomach, each rising tendril malignant. Is this a punishment? Do the Divine gods and goddesses scorn me for my urge to leave Midas’s cage? Maybe this is a reprimand of the fates, proof that I should’ve been satisfied with what I had, been grateful for it.

The pirate captain steps in front of me.

My gaze lifts up, up, until it settles on his face. A cruel, callous face. White fur. Red band. Brown eyes.

I should never have looked away from Sail’s eyes. I should’ve stayed there, in that look, where it was safe.

The captain runs the same assessing, nearly bored look over me, same as he did the others. But then he goes still. Squints. Looks harder.

My heart pounds.

He snaps his fingers without ever looking away from me. “Light.”

“Light! Get the captain a light!” Quarter hollers, making me flinch.

I hear running footsteps, a shake of glass and metal. But I can’t look away from the captain. I’m stuck in fear, stuck, as if he has a hand wrapped around my neck.

Someone rushes over with a torch, its yellow flame hissing from the snowfall, its center a wounded red, like they lit it from the paws of their hellish beasts.

Captain Fane snatches the torch and holds it close to me, so close that the heat is nearly painful against my frozen cheeks. He lets the light glow over my face, drags it down my gold-threaded clothes. The glimmering leather of my boots. The luster of my hair.

His brown eyes are no longer aloof or disinterested. There’s surprise there, surprise, and then triumph.

It’s the triumph that makes my chin quiver.

He shoves the torch over to Quarter for him to hold, the man instantly gripping it. Then the captain reaches forward, grabbing my tangled braid, and holds the strands in front of the light. He drops it after a few seconds, and then my hand is snatched up. He yanks off my glove, studying my fingers, my palm, my nails. My skin glitters in the firelight.

“It can’t be,” he mutters before he reaches up and yanks away the red cloth that covers his face, the fabric lying around his neck like a scarf. He’s younger than I would’ve first guessed—maybe only in his early thirties.

To my disgust, the captain pulls my hand closer and then licks the skin below my thumb. I cringe, trying to pull away, but he holds me firmly and then rubs at the licked spot, like he wants to see if the gold will come off.

Paint. The other pirate had thought I was covered in paint. The captain just realized that I’m not.

A slow, daunting smile spreads across his face. A face laid bare for me to see, with a mouth revealing a few missing teeth that have been replaced with the same white wood as the ship. Short, dark blond facial hair growing on only his chin, the ends gathered in red beads. A thick piercing through his left ear, a plug of red-stained wood filling the hole. I don’t dare wonder if it’s been soaked in blood.

My mouth goes dry at that smile, at that look he gives me. It’s the kind of look that tells a woman all she needs to know about what kind of man has hold of her. If I had breath in my lungs, I would scream. But I’m dried up, emptied out. The only thing inside of my chest is that steaming guilt and a cold clutch of terror.

Without warning, the captain snatches my wrist and tugs me forward. I stumble at the unexpected move, but he spins around on his heel, raising my hand high above my head like a show of victory, like a prize to show off. “Reds! Look at the treasure we unburied!”

His voice booms across the Barrens like a drum.

“We’ve got Midas’s gilded whore!”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A shockwave seems to pass over the pirates at Captain Fane’s revelation.

First, there’s stunned silence. I feel hundreds of eyes settling onto me, appraising me, before their shock gives way to something else. Something worse.

Shouts rise up, louder than even the fire claws’ growls. I jump from the sound, trying to tear my hand away, but the captain’s hold only tightens around my wrist.

He turns back to me, elation clear in his eyes. “Look at her. Even her dress is gold. This hair, too.” He drops my wrist to snatch up some of my hair, fisting it in his grip. “The golden pet of Highbell.”

The captain turns back to his men, his hold unrelenting. “We snatched Midas’s favored.” The pirates chuckle, pleased, so immensely pleased with themselves.