Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

He flinches as I lift my hand and place it against his cheek, letting the ruined strip of my ribbon brush against his skin. I lean in close so that my voice can heat his face, so that he can look me in the eye and see the fury searing my vision. “You can’t cut off the strings of your puppet and still expect it to move for you.”

He balks, the rest of the blood in his face draining away.

I move my palm up and then drag my finger against the crown still resting on his head.

He may wear the crown, but I was the one who made it gold.

With just a thought, I make the sharp ends of each spire curve. The gold crown bends in a bow to me, in a nod of who’s truly in power. He thrashes as it clutches him like claws, digging in just enough to make small droplets of blood bead against his forehead.

My gaze bounces between his eyes, soaking up the fear there, soaking up this moment as my gold soaks up everything else.

Then, I lean in and whisper, “Goodbye, Midas.” I place my lips against his cheek, because he defeated me with a kiss, so why shouldn’t I do the same to him?

He chokes with a sob, or maybe it’s a curse. I don’t know and I never will, because the second my lips lift from his skin, a gilt kiss is already there imprinted on the spot. Golden fragments, as fine as powder, that I pulled from the air and left to glint against his cheek.

/>

Then, I pat the spot with my finger.

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Five times—not six.

With a smirk, I back away as he thrashes, but my magic already has a hold on him. The hooked fingers of the wall clutch him, the gleaming spot I left on his cheek moving, searching, slinking over his face before it wraps down his throat, a hard edge cutting into the spot where he’d held a blade to mine.

He fights it, oh, he fights it.

I make him feel every inch of it as it devours him whole. Because with everything he’s revealed, everything he’s done, this is what he deserves. He let gold consume him a long time ago. I’m just letting it finish the job.

After a handful of breaths, the liquid metal begins to dribble out of his mouth, bleeding from his eyes, more drops falling out of his nose.

The gold he coveted so much, the gold he loved more than anything else, eats him alive.

When it has a hold of his heart, I let it finish him, stealing his last beat. I watch the last of his fight, the last of his life, leave his body like water draining out, until there’s nothing left of him.

He’s dead.

Dead, dead, dead.

The gold throughout the castle shudders.

Then, with a sweep of my hand, I encase his body completely, dark satisfaction lifting my lips. I turn away from his shocked, unmoving face, at the chest that no longer rises, at his fused mouth, his silver tongue now swallowed by my gold.

I take a breath, feeling that my beast is gratified.

...Gratified, but not appeased.

Because my anger isn’t quenched. My power bubbles and twists, slinking like lava, pushing me to keep going, demanding more.

The angry monster in me still wants to punish. To kill. To wipe out everyone and anyone who stood by and let me suffer. As I look around at this room that now ebbs and flows by my calling, a destructive temptation ripples across the floor, and I realize something.

Instead of being afraid of the world, I could make the whole damn world afraid of me.

With a devilish tilt of my lips, I stride forward, bringing the gold with me like the swell of a sea. But it lugs now, a heavy weight that makes my breath heave, sweat breaking out upon my brow. With great strain, I pull at the magic, pushing past the sudden surge of exhaustion as I head for the archway.

I can’t stop now. I want to swallow this castle whole, trap everyone in it. Let them be smothered in their own covetous greed. I want to let my power scour the land, clear across the Barrens, right back to Highbell. I’ll let it devour everything in our path, and I’ll—

Someone steps into my path.