Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3) - Page 189

My foot lifts as I take another step forward, and I enjoy it immensely when I see Midas take a step back. Satisfaction purrs from my gut.

“I’ll kill him,” Midas threatens. “I’ll kill that spiked bastard, and your guard too.”

Fury catches from the sparks, makes my eyes narrow in a squint. He expects me to falter beneath the threat, but instead, I burn hotter. “Touch them, and I’ll touch you.”

The threat pulls the blood from his face, his tanned skin going pale.

But right then, my skin tingles. A shiver travels down my tormented spine. Dusk hits, setting the sun and stealing my power with it.

Midas must notice, either because I let something show on my face, or his internal clock has become nearly as good as mine, because a cruel smile tips up his lips. “Colorful speech, Auren. Too bad you don’t have what it takes to back up those fiery words,” he mocks, making my eyes flash. “Be careful with that tongue of yours, hmm? We’re safe up here for the time being with the music and crowd, but Queen Kaila has a way of stealing secrets.” He glances over me appraisingly. “Though I have to admit, I’m surprised by this outspoken side of you. You’ve certainly come a long way since being the painted girl from Derfort Harbor.”

I blink. Something sharp scrapes my insides, blade angled just right. “What did you say?”

He tilts his head, like a cat considering whether it wants to pounce on a mouse. “Didn’t I ever tell you I lived in Third Kingdom for a time?” The question is a taunt pulled tight. A rope at my ankles to yank my feet out from under me.

It succeeds.

Something like gratification pulls at the skin around his eyes. “You never came to see me, pet.”

Cold unease scampers up my spine. “What are you talking about, Midas?”

He walks over to the pitcher of wine again, pours himself another glass, indulging in his moment. “You know, it’s easier than people think to get ahead in this world. You just need the drive to do it.” He takes a long gulp before turning around to face me again, a drip of wine staining his lip. “Even a bastard drifter without two coins to rub together can make a name for himself. A name you’ve heard of, actually.”

Now it’s my face that has all the blood draining from it, the gold paling at my cheeks.

“I worked my way up. Was a runner for a thief, but he didn’t realize the potential that was brewing in that port city. It only took two years before his territory became mine. Thieving, pirating, flesh trading. I did it all, controlled dozens of workers. It was a perfected operation,” he brags, pure pride shining through his voice. “People feared the name I made up. Wouldn’t even think of stepping foot on my side of the city without permission, because my name showed that I owned it.”

My heart drops, shatters, a million shards of ice left to temper the heat of my anger.

Something unfamiliar lifts behind his kingly mask, something insipid and seedy. I suddenly have the scent of iron and fish stuck in my nose, making my stomach roil as he fixes a glare on me. “You were the painted girl who cut into my profits, and then had the nerve to run.”

Realization batters my chest and corrupts the air enough to make me choke on it. “Barden East,” I whisper in shocked horror. “You were Barden East.”

His smile is an accumulation of every sharpened edge piled in my chest. “And you’re ten years too late.”

Chapter 46

AUREN

No.

His declaration quakes beneath my feet. It makes bells of alarm ring in my ears louder than Highbell’s ever did.

Midas can’t be Barden East. He just can’t. Because that would mean that I ran right into the arms of the man I tried to escape. I willingly gave myself to someone who took others. Who used them, sold them, treated them like a commodity for his own selfish gain.

My head is shaking with denial, even as my gut tells me it’s true. “You can’t have been.”

“I was.”

Something tears in my throat, a grievous noise spilling from a gaping mouth—a gaping soul.

“How?”

Midas swirls his wine around, taps the front of his collar six times. “It wasn’t too difficult to earn my place as the crime lord in Derfort. There were small-time criminals there who were in sore need of a true leader—which I became. I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” he adds with a shrug. “So many shipments came in and out of that port, and once I took over the territory, I had access to resources from nearly every kingdom. I accumulated a lot of wealth and notoriety, had people at my beck and call.”

I’m hearing him, but his words are spoken into a hollow cave of my own emptying emotions. I’m numb, reeling, in too much shock to even react.

“But after years of that, I grew bored. Plus, I was sick and tired of always smelling fish,” he admits, the slight lift of his lip belying his distaste. “I wanted more—more power, more wealth, more opportunity, and a more palatable territory.”

Tags: Raven Kennedy The Plated Prisoner Fantasy
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