Glint (The Plated Prisoner 2)

A strangled yelp chokes out of me as his body barely misses hitting the burning hot coals. His momentum keeps him going, my hit far too hard, and I suck in a breath as I watch his trajectory head for the poles of the tent.

A second before he would’ve crashed into them, Rip is there, taking the brunt of the mender’s fall.

The commander manages to catch him, hands on shoulders, where Hojat regains his feet instead of colliding into the tent and taking the whole thing down, probably cracking his head open in the process.

An exhale whooshes out of me.

For a moment, none of us move, none of us speak. With my ribbons flared out on either side of me, the only sound that can be heard are my heaving breaths.

When I manage to calm myself enough to breathe normally, my eyes flick to the tent flaps, where I can see the blackness of night bleeding through the cracks. I must’ve only dozed off for a little while.

But in my panicked overreaction, I just showed my hand—or more accurately, my ribbons.

Hojat steps away from the commander to straighten himself. “Well, you’re a strong one,” he jokes with a nervous laugh that tugs the left side of his scarred mouth in a grimace.

Blearily, my ribbons drop as I lower myself back onto the pallet, shaky legs curled beneath me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” I say, shoving sweaty strands of hair off my face. “I just...I don’t like to be touched. No one is allowed to touch me.”

Pity crosses his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I find the courage to flick my eyes to Rip. I don’t know what he’s thinking. His expression is far too unreadable, his stare too still. It sets my already racing heart on edge.

Sweat gathers across my brow and back, and I suddenly regret falling asleep beneath all those furs, because I’m no longer cold. I’m sweltering.

And it has everything to do with the way that Rip’s gaze is burning into me.

Chapter 20

AUREN

Rip and Hojat continue to stand there, staring. I feel like a little girl caught red-handed with stolen food.

Hojat looks nervous and embarrassed, though I don’t miss the curious edge of his brown eyes as his attention flickers to the satiny strips that just launched him across the room.

“So you can move them,” Rip says, voice cutting through the air like shears.

His tone is thoughtful, as though he’s talking mostly to himself. He rubs the black scruff of his chin, his gaze running over the long length of ribbons now lying motionless on the floor.

I don’t know what to say. I’m stuck between a lie and a truth. Squeezed from both sides, trapped between two unyielding walls. Neither of them is the right choice. Neither will protect me.

It’s why I’ve always chosen silence when I can, because silence is sometimes all you have. Like the Deify—the pious people who reside in the Mirrored Sahara of Second Kingdom. Once they go through those doors to take their vow of silence, there’s no going back. Tongues cut from their mouths, they never have to choose between uttering truths or lies again.

I envy them sometimes, that they’ve learned to cheat those crushing walls.

Eyes dropping down, I dig my trembling fingers into the skirts of my dress, faded from its golden glory, wrinkled, slightly damp, baggy, and overworn. I feel every inch of the fabric hanging over me, as heavy as Rip’s stare.

“I knew I saw you use them to break your fall when you descended the Red Raids’ ship.”

I maintain my silence. It’s not like I can deny it. But I don’t have to admit it, either.

“Why do you hide them?” he asks curiously, no mention of the fact that I just almost took out poor Hojat, like he isn’t concerned that I could be considered a threat. I guess to Rip, even with my ribbons, I’m not. Not compared to him, anyway.

I flick my hand against the ribbons, urging them to move behind me on the pallet, where they wind themselves up in tight curls. “Why do you think I hide them?” I ask, my voice cracking, snapping words in half like brittle branches. “Should I keep them out all the time like you show off your spikes?”

An arrogant shrug. “That’s exactly what you should do.”

I scoff. “Easy for you to say, Commander. No one would dare touch you. But these?” I ask, picking up a clump of them in my sweaty palm. “I don’t need another reason for people to gawk and pluck at me. Hiding is the only thing I can do.”

“Is that why you don’t like to be touched?”