Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

My fingers touch, pain sprouts, and I’m suddenly flooded with the vision of a sword as it arced down, my spine arcing with it.

A tiny breath flows. “My ribbons...”

“What?” Polly questions.

I slap a palm over my mouth as a confused cry wrests out of me, and I whirl around, dizziness coming over me like an undulating wave.

“What’s wrong with you?” Polly asks, her nose wrinkling as she sees me curl over into myself, body trembling as I remember.

I remember.

The vicious cleave of a sword. Petals forced in my mouth. A hacked strip floating to the floor.

My ribbons…

Agony fills my heart that far surpasses what I feel physically. The drug must be numbing some of the pain, because all I feel is a steady throb that follows the curve of my empty back. It’s like having missing limbs, trying to wriggle fingers you no longer have. My muscles bunch and strain, trying to move what’s no longer there.

Gone.

gone gone gone gone...

My breaths are coming in quick now—too quick. I’m gulping in heaves of air that don’t reach my lungs, suffocating in my own inhales. Awful heat drenches me, holding me under as my stomach cramps, my sex throbbing.

Oh goddess...I’m so high.

My mind scrambles, trying to remember my timeline and how long I must’ve been gone

since I gold-touched things in the ballroom. But I can’t grasp it. Not with the way my mind floats. Not when I keep fixating on the way my dress feels against my skin, like a sun-warmed petal dragged across my legs.

“Just relax. The king will be coming up here to do his demonstration soon,” Polly snaps at me, drawing my attention. “Why he wants you up here, I’ll never know.”

“I need to go. I need to go.” The panicked words are a rasp, but Polly narrows her blue eyes.

“You can’t go yet. He specifically wants you up here.” She reaches into her cleavage and pulls out a tiny pouch. Dipping her fingers inside, she plucks two petals from it, and proceeds to plop one of them into her mouth. Then she holds the other out for me to take. “Here. It’ll make you feel good.”

Feel good... My body purrs with decadent promise, but I shake my head, trying to shoo away the haze that threatens to settle around me. “No.”

Polly’s lips purse. “Listen, you gilt cunt, the king wants you to stay put and be calm. I’m not going to lose out on my reward because you’re having a freak out. So you will eat this, and you’ll be grateful for it!” she hisses.

An angry flutter rustles in my gut, though my mind roils. “No.”

Her eyes harden as sharp as glass. “Fine, then I’ll make you.”

She moves to shove it toward my mouth, but my gloved hand shoots out, albeit clumsily, and I manage to grab the petal and smash it between our fingers. Her eyes go wild with manic anger as I ruin it, letting the crushed pieces fall to the ground.

“You bitch!” The blaring music drowns out Polly’s furious yell, but I hear nothing else except the hate pouring off her tone.

My vision fills with prisms of light as it spins. The dew coursing through me is strong, muddling me, making me forget, filling me with a wave of heat again that makes me groan. I just need to lie down. I need to rest. I need...

Curses are spewing from Polly’s painted lips while she kneels on the floor, trying to collect the little bits of ruined petal. But I barely hear her. My entire body is throbbing, needy, at war with my consciousness trying to fight past it. Goddess, I’m so hot.

Why am I so hot? Why am I so dizzy, why is Polly yelling, why is my back hurting, why...

Why, why, why

Polly’s trying to gather crushed pieces of dew, I’m trying to gather myself, and then, the door suddenly swings open.

And in walks Midas.