Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

“Auren.”

I look over at Midas, who gestures to the empty seat at his right. My brows notch up in sur

prise. He’s never had me sit beside him at a formal dinner, especially not at a table full of royals. I take a tentative seat, though my hackles are up, wheels churning. Because this isn’t a boon. This isn’t him showing me favor. I just don’t know what his play is yet.

The servants begin to place heaping platters of food along the table, the scent of syrups and sugars immediately engulfing the air, while I silently hurry along the setting sun so I can eat and, more importantly, drink.

Picking up my goblet, I find it empty. That just won’t do. “Excuse me, may I have some wine?” I ask the servant nearest me.

The girl dips her head and retreats as soon as her platter is set down. Up and down the table, voices are lobbed back and forth, everything boring and political. Since it’s not night yet, I can’t eat. Well...I could, but the moment it touched my lips, I’d be chewing on metallic gruel.

So instead, I pretend and make myself look busy. I drown out the talk by serving myself from the platter nearest me. Unfortunately, it doesn’t look very appetizing, but it’ll have to do. With my spoon held in my gloved hand, I stir around the coagulated sugary oats.

I’m really going to need some wine to wash this stuff down.

“So, Doll, I heard you got captured by the Fourth Commander hunk.”

Startled, my eyes rise to Manu between two cerulean blue icicles of the table’s glass centerpiece, finding his features lit up with mischievous intent.

I shoot Midas a look out of the corner of my eye, but he and Niven are talking about something. “Yes, I was.”

“Now there’s a story ripe for the dinner table.” Eager eyes stay riveted on mine as one brow arches up. “I wouldn’t mind being captured by him. All those hard spikes and thick...muscles.”

I practically choke on my tongue, feeling my cheeks flaming with heat.

Beside him, Keon reaches over and stabs a hunk of meat right off Manu’s plate and shoves it into his glowering mouth as he gives him a glare. Manu just laughs and smacks a kiss on his cheek. “Don’t pretend you wouldn’t jilt me in a second for that monster man.”

Keon points his fork at him. “You jilt me, and I swear to the Divines, you will regret it.”

“Ooh,” Manu purrs. “How positively titillating.”

Keon snorts.

My lips tilt up, their banter making this dinner seem not so awful after all. “How long have you two been married?”

“Three months,” Manu chirps.

“Three years,” Keon corrects with a roll of his eyes before he steals more food off his husband’s plate.

“Ah, that’s right,” Manu says, plopping a grape in his mouth. “Time flies when you’re riding good c—”

“Carriages,” Keon quickly intervenes, cutting him off with an elbow to the arm, stealing hurried looks at the frowning advisors.

Manu grins at him, rubbing the spot where his husband jabbed him, and I think these are my two new favorite people ever.

“Do you guys play drinking games?” I ask, perking up.

Manu snaps his fingers and points at me. “See? I knew I liked you. I can always spot the fun ones.”

With a smile, I try to find the damn serving girl, but she and my wine are still nowhere in sight. My mouth is watering from all the smells of the food. The very second the sun sets, I’ll be stuffing my face and downing a cup.

“I’ve told the servants you’re not to drink wine tonight.”

Midas’s words startle me, jerking my head in his direction. “Why not?”

He looks at me coolly, and there’s something there, some flicker that I hadn’t noticed until right now. “Because I said so.”

The curled up creature inside of me yawns, the stretch of anger waiting to see if it wants to awaken. Midas is wound up tonight, either because of Third’s presence or something else.