Glint (The Plated Prisoner 2)

His business of buying us to run his beggar scheme was good for his bottom line, but apparently, not good enough to want to take proper care of us. We just had to suffer through it, because he certainly didn’t give us a day off. He said people were more likely to feel sorry for sick children, anyway.

There were a lot of us, tightly packed together in the cold and sometimes even wet sleeping arrangements, never with enough food, hygiene less than stellar.

I don’t even like to think about the times I had to dig for tossed out leftovers. Garbage. I ate garbage sometimes.

Even then, kids would steal it from you if you tried to stash it away; it didn’t matter how much gunk was gathered on it. No wonder sickness ran rampant.

Still, I hate feeling weaker than I already am. All I can do is sleep it off and hope no one notices that I’m even more vulnerable than before.

I nearly snort. If there’s one thing the commander is aware of, it’s my vulnerabilities. The saddles too, for that matter.

It’s been three days since Rissa set the price for her silence. But in those three days, I haven’t seen Commander Rip once, except for his sleeping silhouette when I sneak out of the tent every morning before dawn.

I’ve tried to go visit the saddles again every night once we stop traveling. Twice I was turned away. Last night, the guards who saw me with Lu were on duty, so they allowed me a short visit, but that was almost worse.

The girls wouldn’t even look at me except to spew their frustrations about my freedom to walk around versus their inability to leave their crowded tent.

At least I was able to confirm that no soldier has tried to use them yet.

I want to keep trying, to break through to them and let them see that I’m not their enemy, but the effort is always so disheartening because it never gets me anywhere.

If anything, they’ve just started hating me more.

Yet they’re not the only reason why I’ve been making it a point to visit. It’s also so that I can continue my search for the messenger hawks.

I make sure to go a different way every time, to continue to map the camp. They set it up nearly the same every single night. It would be easy if this army weren’t so damn big.

But the thought of trekking around in the snow right now and then dealing with the saddles makes me groan in exhaustion.

I’ll give myself the night off and pick back up tomorrow, when it doesn’t feel like the commander’s spikes are stabbing through my head.

Speak of the devil...

The carriage door opens, and I squint over at Rip, his silhouette dusted with the light of dusk.

No armor today, leather coat frosted at the edges, his black hair windswept and his spikes nowhere to be seen.

“Does it hurt when you keep those in?” I blurt.

Rip glances down at the arm I’m looking at, like he’s surprised his spikes aren’t out—or maybe that I asked about them. “No.”

“Hmm.” I lick my dry lips and swallow with a twinge of pain but then remember what I really wanted to talk to him about. I pick my head up straighter when I realize I’ve slumped a bit. “I want to know where Midas’s guards are.”

“Do you?” he asks in a gravelly voice, shoulder leaning against the doorframe. “Well, I’d like to know who your closest friends were in Sixth Kingdom.”

I blink at him through stinging eyes, my mind a little slower than normal at processing his words. Even when I do, I’m still confused. “Why do you always ask the strangest questions about me? Why do you want to know that?” My tone is both bewildered and defensive.

“Is it the saddles you’ve been visiting?”

So he knows I’ve visited them. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at that, though I am that he’s allowed it to go on.

A chuff escapes me as I tilt my head down, fingers coming up to rub my burning eyes. “Oh, yeah. They adore me. We braid each other’s hair while trading stories about Midas in bed.”

Great Divine, did I just say that? I must be sicker than I thought.

I hear a rasp of a chuckle. “Interesting.”

My hand drops away, the scraping talons against my skull making my eyes sensitive even in the dim light. “What’s interesting?”