Glint (The Plated Prisoner 2)

I’m forced to come here more often. As luck would have it, it’s always the one room that visiting nobles want to see.

Lady Helayna stops, skirts brushing against the perfectly arranged tulips, some of them still drooping slightly from the weight of their petals.

Eyes gleaming, black hair perfectly shiny and swept up into a loose bun, this pristine countess belongs to one of the wealthiest families in Sixth Kingdom, and now, she’s the head of it. A rare position of power for a woman in a strong family.

“This is extraordinary,” she says, her eyes holding wonder as she looks up at the solid gold fountain.

I try to see it from her viewpoint, her fingertip dragging across the stagnant ripples. The water’s descent is frozen in time, the continuous stream like golden curtains.

At the bottom well of the fountain, there’s a splash that will never settle, water that will never again be clear and cool, or pure enough to cup your fingers in and drink. Water that once spewed from the top is now caught in a graceful arc, solid gold rivulets as thick as my arm.

“So perfect, Queen Malina. So utterly captivating.”

“I’m glad you enjoy it, Lady Helayna. I should have invited you to Highbell ages ago.”

“Yes, well, I’m so glad for the time to do such things now.” She smooths the front of her black dress, my eyes following the movement.

“How are you faring?” I ask as I purposely start leading her away. The wind has begun to howl outside, snow battering against the window panes like the angry fists of ghosts. Further proof that this room haunts me.

Lady Helayna fidgets with the gauzy fabric that’s tucked into the high collar of her dress. The mourning veil will be worn over her face for a month, only to be taken off in the confines of her home or in the presence of royalty.

“Oh, I’ve been managing, Your Majesty.”

Our heeled footsteps echo in the large space, and even though all I want to do is run out, I manage to lead her away at a respectable pace. Although, when she stops at the vines draping down the wall, I clench my teeth.

“I imagine it’s been very difficult since your late husband’s passing,” I say gently, cupping her elbow in a show of remorse, when really, I do it to pry her away, to keep her walking.

The golden vines may be tempting to look at, but I’ve learned that everything in this castle is insidious. Every tangled trail and curling bloom is nothing but a baited trap.

Lady Helayna digs into her pocket and pulls out a handkerchief, wiping at her watery eyes as we head for the door. “Yes, I miss my Ike. He was a good man.”

He was a cheater like all the rest, though I keep that thought to myself.

My head dips. “I was very sorry to have missed his burial.”

“Oh, I didn’t presume to expect your attendance, Your Majesty. You’re so busy managing the kingdom,” she assures me, tucking her handkerchief away.

She pauses before we can make our escape to the door, noting the cage built on the other end of the room, the bars stretching all the way to the hidden hallway at the back.

“Strange,” she murmurs, gaze pausing on the pile of silken pillows still lying on the ground, as if Tyndall’s pet is still around to laze on them day and night.

When my husband told me he’d be expanding Auren’s cages to allow her entry to the atrium, I was livid. This room, even though I detest it now for what he’s turned it into, it’s still mine.

My mother cared for these plants that were so carelessly killed, choked inside metallic coffins. This was the room where she died, her bed brought up so she could be amongst all the green, thriving growth, breathing in the perfumed blossoms on her dying breath.

Tyndall threw it all in my face by bringing her in here. By letting her look up at the windows my mother lived and died beneath.

Perhaps that was when I truly started to hate him.

“Your Majesty?”

I blink over at Lady Helayna in surprise. I hadn’t even realized I was still stopped, staring at the cage.

Shaking my head, I give her another practiced smile. “Pardon. I was just watching the storm begin to break,” I lie, purposely flicking my gaze past the cage to the windows instead.

She nods knowingly, her gaze moving up to watch the thickening snow as it begins to pile over the dome, casting us in hues of gray—a somber sky. “I should go before the storm gets worse.”

“Let me walk you down.”