Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

He turns and starts walking, but I wince when I realize that before I can achieve said rest, I’m going to have to walk. Far.

I bribe my body with thoughts of my fluffy bed and feather pillows just waiting upstairs. The real tragedy of this throne room isn’t that I didn’t manage to gild the chandeliers, it’s that there isn’t a single pillow in here.

Since the softest thing present is now a solid gold throne, I give myself a pep talk.

I can do this.

I can walk the very long way to my rooms after hours of depleting my magic to the point of exhaustion. I can, because I don’t want to show weakness in front of Midas. I’m a strong woman who’s learning to be independent, dammit.

Ish. I’m a strongish woman. That ish is going to have to be good enough for now.

With a determined breath that comes out a little bit like a whimper, I manage to peel myself off the wall and stand on two feet.

Bright side, I don’t fall flat on my face.

But then I remember all the stairs I have to climb, and my ish falters a little bit. Stupid castles with their stupid multiple levels.

I snag my shoes and gloves where I left them on the dais, slipping both on, just as my skin prickles with the telltale sign that the day is ended.

I let out a shaky exhale as my gold-touch power evaporates like mist, going dormant for the night as the sun sets, and my aching palms twinge as the last of the gold soaks back into my skin.

Midas waits for me by the door, no doubt noting how long it’s taking me to get there. My silk slippers drag, every step feeling heavier than the last.

His brow furrows as I finally reach the doorway. “I’ve overworked you. I apologize.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” he replies as he leads me through the empty meeting room and then toward the door at the other end. “I’ve just been impatient to get started, and there’s so much to do here...but it’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have pushed you for so long today.” He stops before the second door and turns to me like he’s actually concerned. And maybe he is, but it’s not for me, not really. He can’t have more gold if his spout drains dry. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to be overbearing, you know that.”

I know he’s full of shit, and it’s certainly not gilded.

“I just need to sleep, Midas,” I say thickly, feeling like I’m about to topple right over. Stopping is not a good idea right now, because I might not be able to get going again, and the last thing I want is him touching me to help me along.

“Of course,” he nods. “I can let you rest tomorrow as well. You’ve done so much already. If you’re still too weak in the morning, we’ll wait until the following day to do more of the castle.”

Dizziness overwhelms me at just the thought of how much more he wants me to do.

He clears his throat. “And, if you continue on the way you’ve been behaving, until the celebratory ball, I’ll let you visit Digby.”

My stomach squeezes, chest leaping. “Really?”

“You’ll have earned it by then,” he says, flashing me a bright grin.

I’ll have earned it...or I’ll have found him myself.

I give Midas a shaky, desperate smile because it’s what he wants. “Thank you.”

With a nod, he opens the door, and we walk out into the empty hall. Every day this week as I’ve worked, he’s locked the area down, not allowing anyone to come near the room we’re in, guards included. Wouldn’t want anyone to walk in and see who’s really turning things gold, now would he?

As we walk down the hall together, I watch my dragging feet while Midas peppers the air with one-sided conversation. Telling me about which rooms we’ll do next, which things I missed for my first go-around, how much gold the nobles need... Sometimes it feels like he’s talking directly to my magic instead of to me. At least there’s no need for me to reply.

By the time we spill out into the grand entrance, twin staircases curling up on the left and right, sweat is trickling down my back, and my legs are shaking.

I pause on the landing, gripping the railing to hold myself up as I catch my breath while Midas chatters on about some damn thing.

“King Midas.”

Midas stops on the stairs above me and turns, while my own head swings to face the new voice. On the second staircase to our left, there’s a boy descending the steps with three Ranhold guards trailing after him, purple cloaks hanging heavy at their backs.