Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

Surprise has me shaking my head. “How does it work?”

She shrugs. “I can sense when people are paying attention to me, and then I just...make them pay attention elsewhere.”

Well, that’s a handy trick.

“And you can do it for the people with you?”

“To an extent,” she replies. “One person with me is easy. But more than that, and it gets a bit more difficult.”

“This would’ve been nice information before you snuck me out.”

Lu grins, her white teeth flashing in the night. “But this was more fun. You should’ve seen your face back there. I thought you were going to pee yourself.”

?

?Thanks a lot,” I say drily.

“Come on, it’s colder than a pecker in the Barrens. I’ll take you to see the others.”

A smile pulls my cheeks as I follow her, noting the orange glow of the campfires up ahead. When giddiness rises in my chest, I realize just how excited I am to see Slade again, as well as the other members of the Wrath. Even big brutish Osrik, who still scares me a little.

It’s funny, but walking past the tents of Fourth’s army feels so much more comfortable than the luxuries of the castle behind me. In fact, it feels a little bit like coming home.

Chapter 35

AUREN

The camp atmosphere is exactly how I remember it.

Soldiers are gathered around the motley fires, leather tents dusted with snow while the scent of smoke and cooked meat chars the air.

The deeper into camp we go, the more soldiers notice me as we pass by, and I quickly become self-conscious at the way their eyes follow me. It’s not quite as contentious as it was before when I was a prisoner in their eyes, but there’s something definitively wary in their expressions.

Not that I can blame them—I can only imagine what they think of me, have no idea what they’ve been told or if there’s camp gossip. One group we pass goes completely silent, voices cutting off mid-sentence when they notice me. I try to send them a quick smile, but they look away.

“Do they hate me?” I ask, unable to staunch the question from leaking out.

“For the most part, they don’t trust you,” Lu answers as we walk side-by-side. “They never will, so long as they see you as Midas’s pet.”

Nodding, I repress the urge to pull up my hood and cover my face. I don’t want to look like I’m concealing anything or that I have anything to be ashamed of. It wouldn’t do me any good with this crowd.

Instead, I keep my chin up, my shoulders back, let my ribbons trail after me in the snow, their golden ends playing and jumping over the glittering ground. If I’m going to try and fit in here, to earn the trust or at least tolerance of these soldiers, I can’t do it by hiding.

Beside me, Lu gives a nod, like I’ve made the right move, which fuels my determination. As we continue picking our way past tightly packed-in tents, a woman comes up who I recognize. Inga, the soldier who ran into Judd and me when we stole the wine barrel back from Lu’s right flank. I still can’t get over the embarrassment I felt when Judd told her I had women’s troubles. The prick.

Just like then, Inga has a flop of brown spirals on her head and a wooden pipe stuck behind her ear. She comes up on Lu’s other side, falling into step with us.

“How did the training go?” Lu asks her by way of greeting.

“It went well. Got some of the new routines down before I let them go off into the city for the night.”

“Good,” Lu replies. “Why don’t you go into the city yourself? You’ve earned it.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather stay here. Ranhold doesn’t appeal to me. Too bloody cold. And have you seen the corsets the women wear here?” Inga asks, lip curling up in distaste.

“Right?” I exclaim, leaning around Lu to see her. “They’re terrible. I’m not sure how anyone breathes in this kingdom.”

“The clothing in Fourth is much better,” Inga tells me.