Glint (The Plated Prisoner 2)

ehind me, a golden procession in a castle of glass and iron and stone. It will be so much better once it’s gilded. It will take Auren weeks, if not months of constantly draining her power every day, but it will be worth it.

Gold is always worth it. No matter the cost.

I enter the throne room expecting for Ravinger and his men to be waiting for me. Instead, the only people inside are a mix of Fulke’s guards and mine standing against the walls.

With a scowl, I make my way across the giant space.

Blue crystals from the chandeliers cast rivers of light along the floor where I walk. There are frosted windows along the back wall behind the throne. Probably a calculated consideration when it was built. A vision of light spilling in to shine on the Divine-blessed monarch. Or to force people to squint at the king’s seated splendor.

Once across the room and up the white marbled dais, I turn and take a seat on the throne. Made of pewter and iron, there’s an amethyst stone set into the center of it—only one, but I’ve already spoken to a blacksmith for him to add five more.

Six is the superior number out of all the kingdoms.

At the back of the room, my main advisor, Odo, comes bustling in. Several others follow, about half of them my own, the other half having served under Fulke.

A few of them are loyalists, so they haven’t fully joined my cause yet. Especially since they have Fulke’s son, Niven, to consider. They’re priming the boy to take over when he comes of age.

Unfortunately for him, that’s not going to happen. Taking over or coming of age. A mercy, really. I can already tell that the boy isn’t cut out to rule.

While I sit on the throne, eyes straight ahead, I tap my finger against the pewter armrest six times. Then a break. Then six more taps.

With every minute that passes, my impatience turns to offense, and offense is my cornerstone for anger.

My advisors settle on the bench seats to the left, behind the banister built to separate nobles from commoners. Ravinger’s people though, they’ll be kept standing in the common galley.

Another calculated move.

Minutes go by. Then those minutes are doubled.

All the while, I wait, tapping. My irritation rises with the temperature of my temper.

My guards are too well-trained to shuffle on their feet, but my advisors are growing impatient, muttering amongst each other, sniffling, coughing, moving in their seats. The noises make my teeth grind.

Still, I sit and wait, enough that the light reflected off the blue chandeliers has moved a few inches across the marble—a re-routed river flowing through the floor.

“Where is he?” I bite off, the words as hard and dry as jerky.

Odo jumps to his feet, scrolls and quills sticking from the wide pockets of his coat—for note-taking. If the bastard king ever shows up.

“I’ll go inquire, my king.”

“Hurry up.”

He nods quickly, balding head rimmed with a halo of gray hair curling around like a topless hat. As Odo departs through the back door, my foot bounces, knee jumping.

He’s playing mind games, of course. For every move I make, so will he. Still, I could be in my rooms right now, comforting Auren, helping her to settle.

My mind flashes to the flare in her golden eyes as she spewed anger at me like dragon’s fire. Never. I’ve never seen her look like that.

I don’t like that, either.

I’m not sure what happened to her out there, unprotected. But I will find out. I will get every possible detail from the guards, the saddles, everyone. And then I will extract vengeance.

I’ll start with the Red Raids. They only had her for hours, but I’ll make them pay for each one, right down to the second.

King Ravinger, though. His army had her for days and days. No wonder she’s so out of sorts.

My finger taps six times.