Glint (The Plated Prisoner 2)

She nods in understanding. “Well, if you can’t find Lu, come back and I’ll sort you out.”

“We’ll keep that in mind.” Judd smiles before he cocks his head at me to follow him.

I can’t even look at her, my face is burning so badly. “Thanks,” I mumble.

As soon as I catch up to him, I shoot him a glare. “What the hell?” I rasp.

He snickers, leading me between a couple of tents. His blue eyes are scanning all around us, but he finds what he’s looking for because his face breaks into a grin. “I knew it.”

I stop as he rushes over to what looks like a pile of furs. But when he yanks a few off, I see it.

Exasperation fills me, coming out in a sigh. “Really?” I say dryly.

“Come on, help me lift.”

Grumbling, I come forward. Just like Lu had me do, I’m lifting a damn barrel of wine again.

It feels heavier this time, but maybe that’s just my sore arms from the training I’ve been doing.

“Can you hold it up higher than that?” Judd asks as he clutches the bottom end. “You’re weaker than I thought.”

I glare at him. “Maybe it’s all the blood I’m losing from my women’s troubles.”

Judd laughs. “I had to think quick on my feet. It was the best I could do.”

I strain to hold the heavy ass barrel up as Judd zigzags through the tents, the clandestine movements apparent as he makes us turn around or duck behind a tent any time we see someone.

He has us bring it all the way to the other side of camp, where a group of men are sitting around a fire, chewing on food rations.

When Judd sets it down, the men notice what it is and let out a cheer, their sullen mood instantly breaking. It doesn’t take long for one of them to pop the plug and start emptying the barrel, cup by cup.

I stand at the back, watching with amusement as Judd claps the men on their backs, trading a few words with them. He sees me watching and wanders over, passing me a drink.

“So this is a thing? Steal the wine barrel from each other?”

Judd grins. “Yep.”

I smile and shake my head in amusement before taking an appreciative sip. The wine hits my tongue with sweet, decadent warmth. “Mmm.”

“Exactly,” he says with a nod. “Best wine in camp. The other stuff is basically watered-down horse piss.”

I wrinkle my nose at that visual.

After finishing our cups, Judd walks me back, and I notice that the sky is starting to lighten with impending dawn. Even though I think my gloves might have splinters in them and my arms are sore from lugging that barrel half across the camp, I’m grateful that it distracted me, at least for a bit.

“Thanks for giving me a job,” I tell Judd as we stop in front of my tent.

“Any time. You had that look about you.”

“Which one?”

He sends me a smile, not the usual snarky one, but sympathetic. “The look of a person about to face a battle.”

My brows pull together. “But I’m not going to be the one in a battle.”

Judd arches a knowing brow. “Aren’t you?”

I know what he’s implying, but I don’t know what to say. It does feel a little bit like I’m readying myself for something. I just don’t know what, because I have no idea what I’ll be facing tomorrow. I only know that I do have to face it.