Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

The queen’s lips bend into a wistful smile. “Manu is my closest advisor and friend. He’s quite fond of you.”

Well, that’s good. Right?

“Of course, Manu likes most people,” she goes on, cutting across my hope and the castle grounds. We head to a part I haven’t been to before, passing by a short wall made of stacked rocks. “He’s a sweet soul who wouldn’t dream of using information against others. But then, that’s why the goddesses didn’t bestow a power on him, isn’t it? I’m a better fit to rule Third Kingdom, because I will do whatever it takes to ensure I keep my throne.” She nods at her own affirmation, as if she’s had this conversation with herself many times before.

The sick feeling in my stomach only grows as she veers off the stone path and begins to walk through the thick snow. The guard carrying the torch hurries in front to cut an easier path across the grounds for his queen, the burning eye of his fire glaring at me through the haze.

My dread builds and builds until it teeters over into distress, and the silence frays the ends of my nerves until I finally ask, “Where are we going, Your Majesty?”

“Just a bit farther.”

I keep darting a look over my shoulder, but it’s not like I can make a run for it. Based on the way her guards are eyeing me, I wouldn’t get far unless I used my ribbons, and I don’t want the queen to know about them if I can help it. She doesn’t need any more of my secrets.

Finally, we approach a huge stone building that looks five stories tall if not more, its true height gripped by the fog. At the front, there’s a stone archway salted with frost, wide enough for twenty men to walk through it shoulder-to-shoulder.

Four Ranhold soldiers outside bow to the queen as we pass through the archway, and her three personal guards stay with them. As soon as I’m inside the building, I look around in surprise. The distinct smell of animal fills my nose in layers of hay, dusty musk, and something almost woodsy. “This is...”

“The timberwings perch,” Kaila finishes for me, stopping in the middle of the huge open room. Beams crisscross the tall ceiling of the cylindrical space like toothpicks caught in the teeth of the stone walls.

There are dozens of the animals inside, feathers and talons as far up as I can see. Some are huddled together in their tree branch nests built on the beams, some are scratching at the hay on the ground, others are nosing at the trough where raw meat has been dumped.

Kaila walks over to one of them on our left, the feathered beast dozing with its head nestled beneath a tucked in wing.

“Riawk,” she murmurs.

The timberwing immediately responds to her voice, muddy brown eyes snapping open as its head whips up. It opens its mouth, and I flinch at its sharp, brutal teeth, but the creature only lets out a loping tongue to lick against the queen’s hand in greeting.

Kaila looks over her shoulder at me. “Have you ever been close to a timberwing?”

Hell no. These things freak me out.

“No,” I reply simply with a shake of my head.

Kaila strokes his feathers of brindled bark, and the animal lets out a purr. “Riawk won’t bite.”

Riawk looks like he wants to maul my whole face off, but sure.

I jump in alarm as a timberwing behind me suddenly flaps its huge wings, kicking up hay and dirt and other things I probably don’t want to think about, before it runs through the open archway and takes off into the night.

While I attempt to dust off my dress and coat, Kaila continues to scratch Riawk unscathed. “Auren, let’s talk woman-to-woman, shall we?”

Hesitantly, I say, “Alright.”

She looks me steadily in the eye. “I came here because Fifth Kingdom has untapped resources—resources I want. But the late King Fulke was a shortsighted swine, and his son is a snot-nosed prig.”

I have no clue why she’s telling me this, but I feel it building up. With each word, she’s shoving me up a craggy mountain of her own making.

“King Midas’s presence in Fifth Kingdom and his extended invitation turned out quite fortuitous for me.”

“Oh?” I ask cautiously, being dragged up another foot.

“Yes. After all, aligning with the Golden King has its very own advantages, doesn’t it?” she asks, dragging her eyes over my gilded form. “Luckily, King Midas and I came to a mutual agreement,” she says matter-of-factly, though her eyes bore through mine, her timberwing staring at me just as intently. “Marriage.”

For a moment, I think I’ve heard her wrong, and my brows pull together in a confused frown.

“Umm...but he’s already married.”

She tilts her head. “Oh, he hasn’t told you? Queen Malina was killed.”