Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

“I’m serious, Slade. I don’t want you two waging war. Not over me. No one deserves to die.”

“That fucker does,” Osrik cuts in. “I can’t wait for Midas’s smug head to get chopped off from his neck.”

“I’d like his limbs to get cut off one by one and for him to bleed out slowly,” Judd puts in cheerfully.

“Or Rip could just rot him from the inside out,” Lu offers with a contemplative tap against the piercing of twisted wood above her upper lip, its ruby end glittering like a slitted pupil.

The Wrath nod in satisfactory contemplation while I gape, seriously questioning their sanity. “You three have issues.”

They don’t disagree.

With a chuckle, Slade shakes his head before looking back at me. “It’s late. If you’re going back to the castle tonight, you should leave soon.”

I can hear the other option hanging in the air—if I go back. “As much as I want to, I can’t stay. I can’t risk Digby’s life. Whatever I do is a direct consequence to him, if he really is in Ranhold.”

Please be in Ranhold.

Slade nods, though I don’t miss the disappointment that flashes through his eyes before he looks at Lu. “Can you take her back?”

“You got it, Commander,” she says, hopping to her feet. “Ready, Gildy?”

I don’t want to leave. Going back to the castle feels a bit like walking into a trap, the clamps of iron teeth ready to shackle my feet in place with its piercing hold. But I don’t say that, because I know as well as Slade that I really do have to return. I have to keep up the facade until Lu can find Digby.

Slade gets up, his hand taking mine as he follows beside me out of the tent.

“I’ll walk you to the camp boundary. Then I’ll let Lu take you so that she doesn’t strain her magic. I want to make sure you have no problems getting back inside,” he tells me while we begin to make our way through the snow. A fog has settled around us, socked in with milky condensation, giving the camp an eerie glow that hugs the campfires.

With Slade on one side and Lu on the other, I feel protected, reinforced just by their presence. “Thank you,” I tell them, watching my boots sink into every slogged step.

Slade tosses me a look. “For what?”

“Everything.” That one simple word encompasses a vastness I can’t quite express. I can tell they’re waiting for me to elaborate, so I say, “You’re all just so willing to help me. Even though I’m nothing to you.”

Slade stops in his steps like he just ran into a wall, his aura suddenly gone pitch-black, like a moonless night. His scales shimmer as his head turns toward me, eyes narrowed. Lu whistles low and steps a few feet ahead.

He raises his finger and says, “I’m going to let that slide once.” His tone is the steady rumble of a brewing storm that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright. Not in fear—I’m not afraid of him—but in response to the utter impact that lands with each word. It’s a force as great as the quaking of the ground, threatening to topple me if I don’t dig in my heels. “But hear me now, Auren. You are not nothing.” Fierce eyes take me in, holding me hostage. “Understand?”

I nod slowly, the weight of his declaration settling in my bones, not as a burden but a bolster. “Understand.”

He searches my face like he wants to make sure I’m telling the truth, and then he nods sharply. “Good.”

I breathe out, embarrassed to admit that I’m a little turned on right now. But damn, that was intensely sexy.

When we start walking again and catch up to Lu, she smirks at me. “You got in trouble,” she singsongs.

“Shut it,” I grumble. “I didn’t mean it like that, anyway.”

“Good, because this is how it is, Gildy. You’re one of us now. We always have each other’s backs. It’s us against the world.”

I’ve never had real friends before, people I could trust and depend on. “It’s going to take some getting used to,” I admit.

Slade grunts next to me, and I smile at the stubborn look on his face. “Now who’s the impatient one?” I say, nudging him with my elbow.

An entirely different sort of look hoods his eyes. “If you intend to go back to Ranhold, then it would be prudent not to tease me.”

“Prudent, hmm?” Lu puts in. “Awfully fancy talk for our bloodthirsty commander.”

He rolls his eyes.