Gild (The Plated Prisoner, #1)

by Raven Kennedy

Does it really matter if your cage is solid gold when you aren’t allowed to leave it? A cage is a cage, no matter how gilded.

But memory and time aren’t friends. They reject each other, they hurry in opposite directions, pulling the binding taut between them, threatening to snap. They fight, and we inexplicably lose. Memory and time. Always losing one as you go on with the other.

One should never decide something as serious as bangs when they have a bottle of wine in their stomachs.

I’m ridiculously fun. You kind of have to be when the only person you hang out with is you. I wouldn’t want to bore myself.

It’s almost funny how much people will say in front of a woman they only view as a possession.

All men, whether they’re a king or a peasant, covet what they do not have.

You can pretend a lot of things in life. You can pretend so well that you even start to believe your own deceit. We’re all actors; we’re all on pedestals with a spotlight shining on us, playing whatever part we need to in order to make

You can have all the gold in the world and yet lack everything of real worth.

And what’s a ring when you have a heart?

It’s the arrogance of men, to think so little of women. And it’ll be their downfall too.

I won’t sit idly by and keep letting men crush me in their fists.

Men making deals on the behalf of women never seems to go very well for the women.

Why am I so cursed to endure the greed of men?

Before Quarter can finish his sentence or go through with his threat, a cold, smooth voice cuts through the air like a boom, a volcano erupting in the middle of a silent twilight. “What do you think you’re doing?”

I wouldn’t call him handsome, he’s far too wicked looking for that, but the savage grace of him is as magnificent as it is utterly alarming.

She’s mine. And I’ll destroy everyone in my path to get her back.