Goldfinch (The Plated Prisoner, #6)

by Raven Kennedy

“Don’t worry, Isalee and Warken are making sure they’re well taken care of. And don’t tell him I told you, but Osrik bought them their own house in the city. A nice one, right on the river. He doesn’t want the girl to know it was from him though.” “Doesn’t surprise me.” “You know him,” Ryatt says. “Os never wants people to know if he’s done something nice.” “If he heard you say the word nice in the same sentence as his name, he’d punch you in the gut.” Ryatt smirks. “Probably.”

“Orea definitely has a chance with you on our side.” “Not just me. Orea has a chance because of you.”

“Lead well, Commander.” He bows at the waist. “I’ll protect Fourth with my life.” That’s what I’m afraid of. “You’ll find Auren and our mother,” he says, not an inch of doubt in his voice, because he knows I won’t settle for anything else. “Be careful,” he murmurs. “You too, brother.”

This is it. I’m dying. But my life doesn’t flash before my eyes. She does. Auren floods into me, memories consuming me entirely. There aren’t enough, not nearly enough. But I see them. Feel them. Hear them. The little moments. Like when I’d watch her without her even realizing it. Taking in the side of her face while she ate, watching her walk up the stairs, seeing her smile at something Judd said. It’s the sound of her voice as she told me her truths. The scent of her hair when she laid upon my chest. It’s the big moments too, when she was entirely too magnificent for this world. When she made everyone else seem small and dull in comparison. Her vengeance and her strength and her kindness and her light. I was always meant to find her. To see her. This can’t be it. This can’t be all.

As long as there is breath in my lungs and a heart in my chest, I will fight for her with everything that I am.

Our souls are now bound together. Our lives forever connected. Our magic entwined. It means that she and I are a match fated by the goddesses. It means that we have been given the greatest gift ever bestowed on a fae. It means that she’s mine.

Right here, over my heart, is a scale. A golden scale.

“What…the…fuck.” A face looks out at me from billowing darkness. A face of power and viciousness. A face that hasn’t been seen in Annwyn for hundreds of years. A dragon. A fucking dragon.

Until she’s screaming. A soldier has a dagger in his hand that now drips with blood. The woman is sobbing, her arms still held back, but her ear…the top half is now missing, a chain left to dangle from her lobe as blood pours out. “Emonie!” A man with blue and white hair behind her shouts her name and tries to get to her, shoving at another armored soldier. One second, he’s trying to get to her. The next, there’s a sword poking out through his chest. He looks down at it, like he’s surprised to see it there.

Holes. So many holes left from the hostile burrowing, making the throbbing in my temples amplify even more. What is happening to me?

“King Carrick, look at the power you could wield through her. You could ruin the rebels through her. Don’t give them a martyr. Give them a mockery.”

Flaunt her. With your memory fae’s magic, make this Turley a spectacle. A laughing stock of this so-called symbol for rebellion. Make her kneel to you and show them all what a traitor she is, and you’ll make their insurgence fail. Without her, the Vulmin will have nothing to fight for. You’ll cut this uprising off at the knees. Don’t waste her. Use her, and you will be that much more powerful.”

“You were a traitor, but you have changed your ways. You owe the king your life. You are loyal to him, aren’t you? Ready to prove yourself?”

“I am loyal.” Loyal. “I am beholden to his benevolence.” Beholden.

“I am lucky to be here.” Lucky. That word gets caught in the dripping ceiling. Swells and sticks. Lucky? “Yes, very lucky. Most traitors are killed. You have agreed to make yourself useful to the king and do whatever he asks.”

You have your own light, little sun. So you must carry it with you when it grows dark.

When tears are like starfall, when bleak is like night, We remember the dawn that will bring back the light.

I might not know anything else yet, but I do know this truth with innate certainty. My name is Auren Turley. And I am stronger than the dark.

Speaking of a shadow… My eyes snap to the darkened bulk that suddenly walks into my room. My heart leaps, but I can’t fool myself and say it’s because he startled me. It’s because ever since I woke up, my heart has been doing those leaps every time I look at him. It’s very aggravating.

It’s like we were both reading the same book, but he went ahead and finished it before me. It feels like he’s just waiting for me to catch up, watching me flip every page, staring at me as I go word by word.

You can’t just come and go into my private room as you please.” Especially looking like that. He looks masculine and broody, as if he’s just finished training some soldiers before riding a horse and then chopping down a tree.

I wonder if he does chop wood? Maybe I could be near a window to watch…

We’re inches apart, but he watches me like he’s closer. Like he’s all the way under my skin. And he is. Not that I’m going to admit it. But I was told he stayed by my bedside every single day—nearly every single minute. That he was so devoted to me he barely ate or slept. That sort of bedside vigilance goes way past simple attraction. Doesn’t it?

“You were almost dead, Yellow Bell. Hours ago, I was fucking saying goodbye to you.”

When I opened my eyes from my deathbed, Osrik was staring at me like I was a ghost. Like I was a gift. Then he buried his face into my hair and wrapped his arms around me and made me feel something I haven’t ever felt before. Safe.

“But while you were fighting for your life, unconscious, I was very fucking conscious. I watched every minute of your suffering. But I wasn’t sitting there just for fucking guilt. You want to know what I felt?” “What?” I ask breathlessly, unable to even attempt to be snippy. “So fucking devastated that I was going to lose you,” he replies, stark honesty rumbling out of his gravelly voice. “That I was going to lose you before I could tell you that I love you.” Breath sucks in between my lips, my eyes widening as I stare at him. “Love?” He pauses and studies my face like his dark brown eyes are soaking up every inch of me. “Yes, Rissa Bell. I fucking love you.”

“We like the fire. We each don’t back down to the other, and we like it that way. So don’t lie and try to act like we can’t stand each other, because we both know that’s not true.”

“You almost died,” he says again. “And I’ll never fucking forget how close it was. Just like I won’t waste any more time now that we’ve gotten a second chance. We can’t fight this anymore, Rissa. I’m claiming you as mine.”

“Are you out of your mind? You can’t just…claim me!” I say shrilly. “I just did.” My back stiffens. “I am an independent woman. I decide who to be with.” “You’ll decide to be with me.” My teeth grind. “You cocky son of a bitch.” “And yours.”

“You can’t love me,” I tell him, my voice full of denial. “I can.” No argument. No added detail. Just a vow. “You don’t want me really,” I argue. “I do.” “You won’t always.” “I will.” I can, I do, I will.

“Are we a mistake?” I ask quietly. He doesn’t mock me. Doesn’t get mad. Instead, he rubs my back with tenderness. “Like I told you before, you’re the best mistake I want to make. Over and over again. For the rest of our lives. So what do you say?”

“Don’t let me down, Osrik. Don’t you dare, ever, make me regret this,” I demand harshly, delving into his brown gaze, sticking him just like he’s stuck me. The corner of his mouth twitches. “You threatening me, Yellow Bell?” “I absolutely am.” I release his beard as his hands come up to cup my face. “Good,” he says. “Because the two of us? We threaten anything that might try to tear us apart—including each other.” I swallow hard at the praise in his tone. “You won’t let me down?” I press. “Never, Rissa,” he replies firmly. “I will never, ever make you fucking regret this.” My breath sucks in at the potency of his promise. Then I nod out a shaky breath. “Alright then.”

“It’s okay,” Osrik rumbles. “Just be you.” I want to scoff, but I suppress the urge, because…maybe I truly can be me. Maybe with him, everything can be different. So instead, I fall into this impulsive wave of longing, and I lean forward and kiss him. Because that’s what I’ve wanted to do since the moment I woke up. My kiss doesn’t catch him by surprise. It feels like he’s been waiting for me all along.

Kissing him is like the first sip of warmed mead during a snowstorm. He heats me from the inside out, making me want another gulp, another taste, more and more, even when I’ve drained the cup. He makes me want to keep drinking him down forever.

“Rissa Bell…” he murmurs, lips pulling slightly away, even as I try to chase them down. “I will kiss you for fucking ever, but you just woke up from your deathbed hours ago and you need to rest…” “I can’t rest,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t want to rest.” “What do you want?”

“Osrik?” I whisper, and my voice sounds small. I’ve never let myself feel small around a man. It wasn’t safe. But it is with him. “Yeah?” “I want you to do something for me that no one ever has before.” “What’s that?” Embarrassment tries to strangle the words, but I push through, my eyes meeting his. “I want you…to make love to me.”

AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!! YESYESYESYESYES!!!!!!

“It would be my fucking honor, Rissa Bell.”

“My last name is Caddell.” “Your last name is going to be Ferox soon, because that’s mine.” He abruptly stands up with me in his arms, making me squeal in surprise, so it takes me a couple seconds to realize what he said. “Wait a minute, I’m not marrying you!” I blurt out, staring at him aghast. “Yes, you are.”

“It legally ties the woman to the man. Gives him all the rights and gives her none. Makes him seem respectable, affording him more freedom in the process, while the freedoms of the wife are limited even more.” “Okay, so we won’t marry,” he says with an easy shrug, as if I haven’t just said what most men would consider blasphemy. “Just like that?” “I’ll get you a ring. To us, we’ll be married. Without any of the bullshit. It’s just for us—for me and you. Think you can handle that?” I feel shaky, my adrenaline not used to being flooded with so many feelings. Sniffing, I wipe at the corner of my eye and then straighten. “Well. I suppose that would be fine.” His gaze flashes. “Yeah?” My heart flutters, though I keep my face impassive. “I do adore jewelry, and rings look quite nice on my fingers,”

“You’ll wear my ring, Yellow Bell?” I nod slowly, and the hunger that comes in his eyes makes my stomach go hot. “Yes, but I hope being captain of Fourth’s army pays well, because my taste is very expensive.” He chuckles, and great Divine, I do love how the sound seems to travel all the way down my back. “You get whatever you want, so long as I get you.”

“Are you sure you can handle me?” he asks quietly, his massive hands continuing to massage, to knead and grip. “Are you sure you can handle me?”

“If I couldn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”

Is this what real attraction feels like? Without the strings attached? It’s quite…exciting. And incredibly nerve-wracking. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” I’ve heard many men compliment my beauty in the past, but when it comes from Osrik, it sounds different. Feels different.

Osrik is huge. Girthy. With the perfect flared head and a length that makes my stomach clench. And that vein—I don’t know what it is about that stretch of pulse along his shaft, but it makes me want to run my tongue over it.

“Don’t talk about seeing many others, or I might ask for every single name of every single man you’ve seen so I can fucking kill them all.” I hum. “That would be a lot of men. Some women too.” “My jealousy doesn’t discriminate, and I’m thorough.”

“Well, then…prove how thorough you can be,”

“You don’t have to do that,” he says. I pause. “Do what?” “You don’t have to play a part, or check with me, or gauge my wants like it’s your job to please me. I just want you.”

“Hear me, woman,” he rumbles. “With me, you aren’t a saddle. You’re just you. That means you do whatever the fuck feels good for you. In whatever position you want. I’ll take you from behind, from front, backwards, forwards, upside fucking down. I’ll slam you against the wall or be fucking sweet in a tub. Don’t worry about pleasing me, because I promise, I’ll enjoy every second of whatever we’re doing, however we’re doing it, because I fucking love you. You get me?”

“How do you want me, Yellow Bell?”

He doesn’t rush me. He lets me sort it out. No other man. Osrik is like no other man I’ve ever been with.