Gleam (The Plated Prisoner 3)

“Go,” I tell them. “Move slowly.”

This time, they don’t argue. The five of them make a beeline for the archway, their steps cautious as they walk over the rippling floor, Ry and Osrik pulling along Digby between them.

When the gold doesn’t immediately attack them, they start going faster, tentative steps gliding across the space. Only when they slip out of the ballroom do I let out a breath of relief.

I turn back toward Auren just as she looks around the now empty room, her expression ecstatic...though not quite her own.

The gold has overtaken the space, moving like a tumultuous sea, churning and lifting, the walls weeping down like rain on a windowpane.

Auren’s attention snags onto the archway, and something nefarious warps her face, making her eyes gleam with light.

My chest tightens at the look of Auren’s waning aura, at the gold that starts to flicker. The magic is riding her hard—too hard. It’s draining her faster than I can blink. Though based on the volatile look on her face, I don’t think she even realizes the toll this is taking.

The gold room lives and breathes by her hand, and she’s controlling so very much of it—too much of it.

She starts striding toward the exit, so I make my way across the room, the soles of my shoes sticking to the floor like I’m walking on syrup. Gold laps at my ankles, the subtle waves of a tide washing up on the shore.

I don’t break my pace until I slide in front of her, blocking the archway.

Auren jerks to a stop, a massive crest of gold at her back casting her in a shadow, the wave of a tsunami ready to hit.

She watches me, but it’s not just her looking out of her eyes. Something else lurks there too.

I can feel her hunger, her need for revenge, and I have no qualms with her meting it out. I would gladly step aside and let her cast her reckoning on this whole damn kingdom. I’m not blocking her for them.

It’s her sapping strength that roots me in place. It’s fear that has me gently coaxing her, because I can feel the power feeding on her, draining her, killing her.

“Goldfinch, can you hear me?” I say softly.

Her head tilts, like she’s trying to place me, and my own expression turns grim, my chest going tight.

The magic has taken over.

“Auren,” I coax, taking a step forward. “You can let go now.”

A frown mars her beautiful face, resistance tightening in the gold behind her. The magic is sparking, making her skin gleam like beams of light reflecting off her skin even as sweat drips from her brow and her breathing grows labored.

Too much. It’s taking too fucking much.

I eat up the distance between us, ignoring the floor that pricks through my boots, my sole focus on her, on keeping the panic from my eyes so I can try to calm her down. “You need to let go, baby. You’re draining yourself.”

“Draining?” she asks, though her voice sounds strangely hollow.

I nod. “Yes. You need to drop the magic before you hurt yourself.”

The room seems to pulse.

“My gold won’t hurt me,” she hisses, something almost animalistic bearing down on me through her eyes.

“It already is. Your aura is fading. You can’t see it, but I can. I need you to breathe and let go of your power.” There’s a plea in my voice.

“No.” The floor shifts in an angry wave.

My teeth grit when her aura dims, and I know I have to fucking stop this. “You’re alright now. You don’t need it,” I say, trying to assuage her magic.

But then she goes and breaks my damned heart.

“I want everyone to hurt like I hurt.”