Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

With Ravinger gone, the room suddenly feels empty. I hadn’t realized just how dominant his presence really was until he left.

I should feel relief that he’s gone, but I don’t.

My gaze locks onto Midas, bitterness breaking through the planes of my face like cracks in the glass. It’s a wonder I’m not openly snarling. My entire body is tense, anticipating what he’ll do.

For a moment, he does nothing but look at me. He’s no longer wearing his crown or his robe, just a gold tunic and pants tucked into gleaming boots.

Ravinger mentioned that it’s been hours since they made their treaty. Which means Midas was off doing who knows what, leaving me in here to pace like a savage animal. Anger simmers alongside the pain in my chest, both emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

I don’t know what he sees in my face, but I see plenty in his. I’m reading him now, like everything he’s ever spoken is a scrawl of lies across his lips. The pages he’s taken up in my life are empty of anything real.

A knock at the door interrupts our silent regard. Midas strides over to the room where the cage is and closes the gilded door, shutting away what happened before he calls for whoever it is to enter.

Two maids walk in from the corridor, their golden dresses covering them from head to toe, with matching bonnets tied at the tops of their heads. One carries a pile of clothing, and the other holds a tray of food. They both dip into a curtsy before heading for the washroom.

I hear the clank of pipes and the screech of water.

Midas clears his throat, voice softer. “They’ll get your bath ready, and you can clean up and eat.”

I pause in surprise. I was expecting him to try and toss me back into the cage room. I was ready for him to berate me with questions about how I got out, about what Ravinger was doing in here, but instead, he holds his hand out like an olive branch.

“I don’t want to take a bath,” I grit out. What I really mean is, I don’t want to take a bath just because he ordered it.

Midas lets out a breath. “Auren, the cage—”

“I will not go back into a Divine-damned cage!” I hiss in a vicious whisper. “You can bring in every blacksmith in the kingdom, and I swear to the goddesses above, I will break every single door. You can lock me in that room, set a hundred guards to keep me, but I will—”

I stop abruptly, aware of the two maids in the other room, both of us stealing looks toward the washroom.

Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I lean in closer to him, lowering my voice so that only he can hear. “If you try to shove me in there again, I will fight you every step of the way, and I won’t ever turn another thing gold for you again.”

The vitriol that spews from my mouth flares hotter than any fire. May it burn him as badly as he has burned me.

Midas goes stiff, his tanned face staining with twin spots of red anger on his cheeks. I’ve shocked him. I can see it in the way he’s forgotten to breathe. He’s not used to this version of me, this person who isn’t bending over backwards and kneeling at his feet.

My chest heaves with the furious passion in my voice. I wouldn’t be surprised if my golden eyes started to blaze.

Midas stares at me. I can see him calculating, can practically hear the thoughts spinning around in his head as he tries to think of how to handle me. I know this, because for all those years I was in love with him, I didn’t just pine after him. I watched him, too. I learned him, as one learns a language.

It was necessary, because of his temper, because I never wanted to get on his bad side or set him off. It’s because of my sensitivity to his emotions, because of my many years of studying him, that I know the way his mind works.

His expression softens, his carob pod eyes becoming tender, as if my words have gotten through to him.

Midas lifts a hand, letting the pad of his thumb brush along my jaw. I stiffen and move my head to pull away, but he brings up both palms to hold my cheeks, looking at me with tortured eyes. “I’m so sorry, Precious.” His breath is at my lips, repentant voice in my ear.

Before, I would’ve melted at this. I would’ve leaned forward like a flower bending in his presence. But I don’t curl into his touch, and my lips don’t lift up in a forgiving smile. My lashes don’t flutter closed, and a sigh doesn’t pass my lips.

Because...it’s too late.

The blindfold has been ripped from my sight. Now, my heart doesn’t squeeze. My stomach doesn’t flutter. He broke something inside of me far more than just my heart. He broke my will. My drive. My voice. He broke down my very spirit, and I let him.

The burden of love I held for him for so long has scraped off. Peeled away like dried, dead skin flaking in a scorching sun. Colorless, depleted strips that no longer feel a thing. Never again will I be the clay that he molds in his hold. I’m going to shape myself.

“I acted abominably. I was completely out of my head,” he says, soft fingers caressing my cheeks as I stare at the gilded buttons on his shirt. “I was just so damned worried about you, and I needed to keep you safe after what happened. I only just got you back, and all this stress with Fourth Kingdom...” Midas trails off, hands dropping away from my face.

I say nothing, too busy seeing past his flowery words and digging into the gritty ground of what he’s really doing.

He’s changing tactics.