Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

“Of course I should,” I reply, sitting up straighter. “I would be, if it weren’t for my husband.”

“He wanted you to claim an heir that wasn’t your own.”

My nostrils flare, shock coursing through me. “Where did you hear that.” Not a question—a demand for an answer.

He doesn’t cower under my command. Instead, the pale-haired merchant smiles. “I hear many things. That’s why you continue to meet with me, remember?”

I sit back in my s

eat, hating the way the cushion beneath me feels as if it’s been stuffed with straw. I don’t care how long ago this safe house was built, the prior monarchs should have kept it furnished with things worthy of the royals who may have needed to flee here. The moment I get out of this horrible place, I’ll be having it fully renovated.

“You didn’t hear enough,” I accuse. “You should’ve been able to tell me what was happening sooner, how Tyndall used his messenger to spread such violent discord.”

“A couple of days earlier wouldn’t have mattered. The result would have been the same.”

“You don’t know that,” I snap. “I could have turned the tide. Highbell is mine. It’s all I want, and I will have it.”

He leans forward. “You know, there’s another way to get the thing you want most.”

Our gazes clash again, ice boring through magnets. “I will not speak of your so-called destiny reading. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, there is nothing left of Seventh Kingdom.”

Pruinn lifts a shoulder, his clothes somehow still looking impeccable. “Magic doesn’t lie.”

“Magic lies plenty, Sir Pruinn, and so do people who wield it. If you haven’t learned that yet, you’re a fool.”

He’s quiet as he regards me, but I don’t look away from his assessment. I meet it head-on, let him see the steel frozen in my spine. “A queen does what she must to secure her queendom,” he finally says, his hand waving in the direction of the door. “Your saddle might not understand that, but I do.”

“You are a traveling merchant who dabbles in fortune-telling. You know nothing.”

A smile cracks his handsome face, a hard grin split into an indecipherable expression. “As you say, Your Majesty.”

The posturing in his tone annoys me, as if he’s deferring not out of respect, but from disappointment. He picks up his book and starts to read again like he hasn’t a care in the world. As if the putrid scent of fish still sitting in that bucket doesn’t bother him, or the fact that we’re holed up here isn’t any inconvenience at all.

I chew on my irritation. It’s become a tangible thing, a wedge between my back teeth. No matter how many times I gnaw and grind, it’s still there, making my jaw ache with it.

Several minutes of silence pass, and I have nothing to do except sit on a hard cushion and chew.

Noises break up the monotony spinning through my head, and I look up just as my two guards come stomping in the house. Snow falls off of them like splatters of mud, wet clumps to seep into the floor.

Their faces are brittle with frost clinging to their eyebrows, reddened cheeks behind scarves they’ve wrapped around their mouths and nose. Jeo walks in behind them and shuts the door, and I get to my feet expectantly.

“Well?” I ask as they begin to remove their iced capes to hang near the fire.

The blond haired one named Tobyn bows first, while Nile, the older one with a peppering of gray, leans down to take off his boots.

“We weren’t spotted, my queen,” Tobyn tells me, still slightly out of breath.

“But what did you learn in the city?” I press. “Are they still rioting? What sort of force has taken over the castle?”

“They aren’t,” Nile says, heavy shoes landing with a thump.

I blink at him, noting the look that he and Tobyn share. I don’t care that they’ve walked miles in the snow both ways from the city to our little hidden hub behind the mountain. I’ve been waiting for over twelve hours to hear what they found. “Explain.”

“Here.” Jeo comes up, pressing tin cups of steaming tea into the men’s hands. Both of the guards murmur their thanks at him. “Have a seat, you’re probably ready to keel over.” I suppress a sigh of impatience as they take their time drinking half the cups and sit down beside the fire.

My look of displeasure lands on the side of Jeo’s face, but he doesn’t turn to acknowledge it, even though I know he can feel it clinging to his profile like a frost.

“I want to know what you found.” My tone grinds against the irritation like a worn cog. “I need to send word to my allies and order for the noble houses to bring their soldiers to me. I will need every last sword, but once they’ve all gathered, I can take back Highbell.”