Glint (The Plated Prisoner 2)

“He’s lucky to have women in his army,” she interrupts. “All the kingdoms in Orea would be smart to utilize their women, but they don’t. Which is why Fourth will always be superior.”

Going off the impassioned vehemence of her voice, I’d say she’s had this argument with people before.

“Sorry,” I say quickly, hoping to assuage her. “I was just surprised. I’ve never heard of women in other kingdoms being accepted to serve as soldiers.”

She gives a terse nod as we sidestep a row of buckets on the ground. “Like I said, Fourth’s army is superior.”

I slip my hands into my coat pockets. “Do the men... Are they cruel to you and the other women serving?”

“You mean you want to know if they fuck with us.”

“Yes.”

She shrugs. “There’s always a few pricks who like to think that they’re better than us,” she tells me. “But it’s not what you think. No soldier in this entire army would abuse one of the women.”

“Really?” I ask dubiously.

“Of course,” she says with unrivaled confidence. “For one, the commander would rip their heads clear off their necks if they did anything so disgraceful. But secondly, this army is a clan. We might have caught some shit in training, but everyone here has earned their place, whether they have a cock or a cunt. Being in Fourth’s army under the commander is an honor none of us take lightly.”

She speaks about Rip like serving under him is an immense honor, sounds almost fanatic in her respect for him.

I never imagined that Rip nor King Ravinger would ever hold such stock in equality of women. Midas wouldn’t dream of allowing females to serve in his army.

As if she’s reading my mind, she glances over at me with a knowing look, hand running over her shaved head to dust the collecting snow off. “I’m not surprised that the idea seems so foreign to you. Your Golden King wants women to be saddles, not sit on top of one to ride into battle.”

I don’t respond, because there’s nothing to say in defense. She’s right.

“What’s your name?” I say instead. I should know it, now that we’ve stolen a wine barrel together.

“Lu,” she answers.

“Just Lu?”

“Talula Gallerin, but if you call me Talula, I’ll knock you on your golden ass, Gildy Locks.”

My lips twitch. “Thanks for the warning. And it’s Auren.”

“Just Auren?” she retorts with a wry look. “No family name?”

I shrug. “No family.”

Lu goes quiet at that. Whatever family I once had is gone forever. I wish I’d known that night was the last time I’d ever see them. I would’ve hugged my father a little bit tighter. I would’ve buried my nose in my mother’s hair as she held me and tried to memorize her scent.

It’s funny how I forgot that smell, but I vividly remember the taste of the honeyed candy she slipped to me that night, because they were my favorite, and she was bribing me to be brave.

I remember the way it felt in the pocket of my nightgown, how it softened inside my shaking, sweaty palm. I recall how it tasted too, a burst of chewy warmth that melted against my tongue, the flavor mixing with the salt of my tears.

A small, sweet candy for a dark, bitter night.

I shove the memory away, crumpling it like I did the paper wrapper I buried deep into my pocket that night.

Lu brings me to a large tent, coming to a stop in front of it where two soldiers are outside, both of them sitting on stools beside a small campfire, the flames casting an orange glow across their faces. They’re playing some kind of game, tossing down dice made of wood, the worn edges rolling with the shake of their hands.

Turning at the sound of our footsteps, their eyes widen on me. “What…” The man’s question cuts off when he tears his gaze away from me and notices Lu.

The other soldier lets out a curse as they both immediately jump up to stand at attention.

“Captain,” the man on the left says with a wary nod, while the one on the right spits out the rolled cigarette in his mouth, leaving it to hiss in the snow like an angry serpent.