Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

An idea, a hope, a reach in the dark. It wasn’t until my fist closed around emptiness that I realized I was grasping for him.

And that’s what makes my eyes sting with regret. He pushed me to light, to burn, only to douse me with ashen deceit.

I’ve taken it personally, and I probably shouldn’t have, but you can’t reason with feelings. They do what they want, forcing you to endure. All you can do is grit your teeth and take it, hoping that time will dull it down.

Please let it dull down.

I wonder if Lu will tell Rip that she saw me today. I wonder if I want her to.

Just his name sends a sharp pang through my stomach. As much as I’ve been trying not to think about him, whether in his spiked form or his kingly one, it’s almost impossible. Because every time my mind wanders, it saunters right back to him.

I pluck a piece of lifted ice off the glass wall next to me, like plucking a petal from a flower. A wish to garner from a fractioned shard.

As I’m looking down at it in my gloved palm, I hear voices in the distance. Dropping the ice on the ground, I peer around the corner of the greenhouse. A few hundred feet away, there’s a stable. The stone structure is hitched with a large round pen, and inside, there’s a thick-furred horse being lunged in circles by its handler.

I immediately spot the source of the voices, seeing two guards walking away from the stables and heading my way. Before I can turn away to avoid being spotted, my eyes lock onto the form standing just outside the pen, his forearms braced against the railing of the fence.

Even with his back to me, I’d know him anywhere.

Ravinger is dressed in dark brown, and his thick black hair is ruffled from the wind. From this distance, and even though I can’t see the expression on his face, he looks relaxed, as cool as the snow at his feet. But that’s him. He never looks ruffled, even here, in another kingdom, surrounded by potential enemies. Even when it’s one against a thousand, he’s the real threat.

My eyes skim down his form, gaze lingering. He’s a scary, terrifying king. But bright side? He can sure wear a pair of pants.

Damn.

I’m still staring at his ass when I see his body stiffen. His shoulders go tense, and then he turns around, gaze landing right on me.

I jerk back and hide behind the greenhouse again, staying stock-still for a second. Maybe he didn’t see me. He could’ve turned to look at something else, right?

Right.

I know I shouldn’t do it, but against my better judgment, I slowly peek back around because apparently, I just can’t help myself.

My heart leaps into my throat as soon as I look. He’s leaning with his back against the fence now, arms crossed in front of him, and there’s no doubt that his attention is locked on me.

When he sees me looking again, his lips turn up into a crooked smirk.

Shit.

I need to look away from him, but I can’t. Our gazes are tied together, a line pulled taut, tugging on both sides. I don’t even blink until a movement to his left breaks the connection.

My attention yanks away, and I finally notice the figure that’s been standing next to him this entire time. Clad in full black armor and helmet, with wicked lines of spikes jutting out from the metal bracers on his forearms, and more of them lined down his spine…

Rip?

My mind stutters in confusion before grinding to a stop.

I let my eyes bounce back and forth between Ravinger and Rip, while my brow furrows.

In a baffled daze, I start to take a step forward like I’m going to march right over there and figure out this mystery, but Ravinger shakes his head sharply. Automatically, I stop, which is a good thing, because the two guards I’d completely forgotten about are now only several feet away from reaching the corner of the castle where they’ll cross in front of me.

Cursing myself for not paying attention, I have about two seconds to figure out where I’m going to hide, because a see-through structure made of glass isn’t going to cut it.

I can’t run to the back of the greenhouse in time, since it’s ridiculously long, but I latch onto the sight of the decrepit stairs against the castle. There’s a door at the top that I’ve been eyeing. It’s much closer than any other alternative, and I hope like hell that it’ll open or that I can at least climb the steps and the guards won’t think to look up.

I make the snap decision, picking up my skirts as I sprint toward them before the guards can reach the greenhouse. Darting across the walkway, I skid up to the bottom of the stairs and then start taking two steps at a time.

In my rush up the crumbling stone, I slip on a patch of ice just as I reach the top landing. I nearly go toppling right over the open stairway—who’s dumb idea was it to forgo a damn railing?—but I manage to grab onto the door handle at the last second and keep myself from falling.