Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

After his voice is drowned out, the courtyard is left to lull in its silence.

I stand there, arms crossed in front of my chest, staring out boldly at everyone who’s left. Scattered Ranhold guards, sculptors, a stable hand, they’re all frozen in place. I wait to see if any will dare to speak out, but none of them do.

When they notice my attention has turned to them, they quickly get back to work, averting their gazes. So quickly people will turn a blind eye to the misfortunes of others. It’s the dark voice in their ear, whispering, just leave it be. Don’t get involved, lest it happen to you too.

I let my arms drop and then stride out of the gazebo, wet spackles of snow landing on my forehead as I go through the main entry of Ranhold.

Excitement buzzes in my palms as I head for the main entrance to the dungeons. For every difficult thread, for all of the anger I can’t dole out on those responsible, I’ll mete it out on him.

Because the gods left me a gift, and I intend to take it.

Chapter 23

AUREN

There’s still a bruise on my cheek.

Bright side? Midas hasn’t bothered me for three blessed days since he struck me. He hasn’t summoned me to gild anything, hasn’t made me attend any more royal feasts.

But this reprieve is a gift of guilt. Midas doesn’t want to see the proof of his loss of control darkening my face. Out of sight, out of fault.

Still, I enjoy the break, because it’s given me time to myself.

All three days, from the moment I wake up in the morning until the sun goes down, I’ve stayed in my room and trained. Simple exercises like lunges and curls, and I also turned a pair of shoes solid gold so I could lift them and build up my arm muscles. I also run through the few things I remember that the Wrath managed to show me when I was with them. When my body is shaking with exertion, which, granted, doesn’t take long, I switch off to work my ribbons.

I focus on learning how to move them one at a time and then together too. It’s a bit like rubbing your stomach and patting your head at the same time, or trying to write two separate words with either hand simultaneously. It takes concentration and a lot of time. When I’m sick of doing that, I practice lifting things with them and moving them around. Back and forth I go, from practicing with my ribbons to working out my body.

I’m pathetically weak, but I’ve decided to fix that by doing what I can on my own.

As soon as the sun goes down, servants come in to feed my fire, draw my bath, and bring me food. By then I’m a sweating, shaking, cranky mess. Even my ribbons are getting snappish from all the hard work. But...I also feel good. Like I’m doing something productive. It satisfies the creature pecking at my chest.

For now.

True to his word, Midas has allowed me to wander the castle at night with a guard. So after a bath where I soak my tired muscles, I leave my rooms like I have for the past few nights. I’ve been visiting Rissa, sneaking her one gilded item at a time.

I also have the guards take me up to the forgotten entrance of the library that no one seems to use or really care about. I lie and say that the scribes gave me special permission to enter that way since it’s more private. They didn’t question it. Scofield and Lowe wait there in the cold antechamber while I pretend to be reading up on Fifth Kingdom’s history to kill the time.

I already broke into the other locked doors in the antechamber the night after Midas hit me. I’d hoped one of them would bring me to the dungeons or a secret passage, but they didn’t. They led to the cellar, the kitchens, an exit near the stables, a couple of random corridors, and what I think must’ve been King Fulke’s rooms. All fruitless.

So tonight after I visit Rissa, I’ll go back to the library and try to search again for blueprints of the castle. I’m hoping I can figure out where Digby might be kept, or find secret passages that might help us get out of Ranhold undetected.

It’s going to be another long night, no doubt.

Every night that I don’t find anything, I grow more worried. Rissa is becoming antsy. With every visit, her eyes seem to darken like the shade of a sundial counting down the time.

So it’s almost funny that my conflicted thoughts of her impatience have me so engrossed that I bowl right into her in the corridor on my way to the saddle wing.

“Shit.” I stagger back, shoulder hitting the corner I just rounded, while Rissa barely manages to catch herself on the wall.

“My lady?” Scofield blurts, eyes wide, though he doesn’t move closer to me or try to help. He knows better.

“Watch where you’re going!” Rissa snaps, hands going to smooth her blonde hair.

I straighten up, cringing. “Sorry.”

Thank the Divine it’s nighttime.

She puffs out a breath, her tone and expression losing their hard edges as she looks me over. “It’s fine. I didn’t know it was you.”