Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3) - Page 92

“I hope you haven’t had too much of a shock adjusting to Fifth Kingdom.”

Kaila glances around, her smooth black hair hanging loose around her shoulders. “I have to admit, the snow has its charms,” she replies, the husky timbre of her voice dipping into seduction.

I tilt my head, a grin sloping up. “It does. Though the private islands of Third Kingdom are said to be the most beautiful in Orea.”

“I’d have to agree with that assessment,” she says coyly, playing at the wrap of shells hanging around her dainty wrist. “Though I’m decidedly biased about the subject.”

I let out a pleasant chuckle. “Every monarch should think

their land is the best, should they not?”

“They should.” She nods. “But in this case, perhaps I could invite you to one of those islands someday soon so that you may get a look at it for yourself and decide if it warrants the claim.”

My grin widens.

I let my eyes run over her pleasing figure. Perhaps Malina’s defiance will work out in my favor after all. Why settle for a cold shrew and a saddle’s bastard when there may be other...options to explore?

“Would you like to dine with me tonight in my personal chambers?” I ask. “I’m sure I could request for the kitchens to make a popular dish from your kingdom.”

A pleased look comes over her expression. She really is a beauty. I wonder if the rumors are true about her much older, and now deceased, first husband. It’s been said that she heard a secret she didn’t like, and he died soon after.

“That would be lovely. Will your gold-touched favored be joining us?”

If I weren’t versed in these sorts of conversational leads, her question might have caught me off guard.

“Not tonight,” I reply smoothly. “Though I’m sure you will grow quite fond of her.”

Kaila smiles. “I’m sure I will.”

The dreary morning around us begins to let out a glaze of wet snow, fat flakes melting over the ground like sugared icing.

The queen shivers. “Well, I’d better get inside. As charming as the snow can be, I am not overly fond of how cold it is.” She casts me a smile. “I look forward to our dinner, King Midas.”

“Tyndall, please. And as do I.”

With a pretty tip of her head, she turns and walks out of the gazebo, hips swaying as she catches up to her guards and brother, Manu, who are waiting for her by the castle wall.

Manu casts me a gaze, one that’s careful not to show anything but polite pleasantness, though his shoulders are just a tad too stiff. For all of his outward affability, I have a feeling he’s a sharp judge of character. Since he’s so deeply in his sister’s ear, I’ll have to be careful to gain good footing with him.

When Kaila disappears inside, I turn back to the sculptors now being dusted with the wintry spritz, their hoods pulled up and gloves shucked on. My eyes follow their movements, but my mind goes over the conversation with the queen, the possibilities splaying out like threads for me to wield.

She has an interest in Auren, but I knew she would. Everyone is interested in my Auren.

Including that thorn-backed bastard, Commander Rip.

A tic pulses in my jaw, anger coming up to brew in my chest like a temperamental boil. I’m still fuming that he touched her. He even had the nerve to carry her right in front of the guards. What I don’t yet know is if he did it because she was weak or because he’s taunting me.

Either way, the situation sets my teeth on edge. If it weren’t for the fact that he’s under the protection of Ravinger, I would’ve locked him up already and plucked the spikes from his spine. My hands coil into fists, and the sudden urge to do just that—to punish—makes my arms go stiff.

He will need to be dealt with.

Auren will need to be dealt with too.

I don’t like the way she’s been looking at me, or the guardedness she now shutters over her expression. Her time away from me has changed her. After years of careful grooming, of teaching her to behave properly, I thought my influence over her was firm. Yet just a few weeks away from me, and her behavior slid like footsteps on ice. She’ll need to be reminded of who takes care of her, of who her master is.

I’ve never struck her before, but she pushed me to it with her antics at the dinner table. I glance down at my hand, as if I can still feel the sharp hit to her cheek. The look on her face after I did it…

Something ugly twists in my gut. I shouldn’t have let my anger get the better of me. So much is riding on every minute I spend here. I need her to fall into place, need to stop her backwards slide.

Tags: Raven Kennedy The Plated Prisoner Fantasy
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