Gild (The Plated Prisoner, #1)

by Raven Kennedy

I’m an oddity, a commodity, a rumor. I’m the king’s favored. His prized saddle. The one he gold-touched and keeps in a cage at the top of his castle, my body bearing the mark of his ownership and favoritism. The gilded pet. I’m the darling of King Midas, ruler of Highbell and the Sixth Kingdom of Orea. People flock to see me just as much as they come to look upon his gleaming castle worth more than all the riches in the entire realm. I’m the gold-plated prisoner. But what a pretty prison it is.

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.

If those stars really are goddesses waiting to be born, I should warn them to stay where they are in the safety of their twinkling light. Because down here? Down here, life is dark and lonely, and it has noisy bells and not nearly enough wine.

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.

I play it for my king. My protector. My savior. For the man I’ve loved since I was just a fifteen-year-old girl. I play it, remembering the first time I learned it, when he so sweetly sang along to the pretty rhymes, his voice an accompaniment to the campfire and crickets. In time between times In dawnlight we danced Sipping from shine Your lips like romance Another tear falls from my eye, the haunting sound of his voice a long ago memory so far away. The man who promised to always keep me safe is giving me to another, and there’s nothing I can do about it.

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 it through the day—in order to help ourselves sleep at night.

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

You trust me, don’t you? Shouldn’t I always? Of course. That answer is all that I have. I just have to trust him. But I’m not going to be a mouse.

I don’t want this man to touch me. I don’t care if he is a king. I don’t care if my king traded me to Fulke for the night, or if he won a battle because of it. I don’t want this, and I’m not going to just lie down and take it. I’m not going to behave. This...Midas can’t ask this of me. Can’t demand it.

Die. I’m going to die. As soon as my eyes are closed, the blade presses in, like it’s cornering me, trapping me, fulfilling Fulke’s savage threat to take my life. I suck in one last breath of air and hold it in my lungs, bracing myself, willing the breath not to leave me. But before the sharpened edge can cut any deeper, Fulke’s body lurches, and I’m suddenly being wrenched to the side by a grip on my arm as the king’s form slams to the ground on his side, jerking violently at my feet. I look down in shock at the sword stuck all the way through him from back to front. Whipping my head to the right, I see Digby. Digby, who I’d forgotten was even in the room. Holding me up with his steady grip on my arm, blood splattered on his face, his sword missing from his scabbard. At the sound of a horrible gurgle, I look back down at Fulke where he writhes. His hands come up, touching the sword where it’s coming out of his chest. His mouth opens and shuts without words, blood lining his lips. He grips the blade, slicing his palms into ribbons as he holds it tight, as if he wants to strangle it into submission. He dies like that, with both hands clenching the golden weapon, mouth sneering like a curse was left on it, one that would damn us all to hell. Midas stands across the room with his other two guards, all eyes on King Fulke as his chest gets stuck on his last gurgling exhale. My vision tunnels on it, on the deep red blood bubbling out of the wound, slow as syrup. The shakes hit m...

I was going to be raped by a king tonight. But that king was killed, a blade shoved through his chest just inches away from me. His blood is soaked into my slippers. I can still feel his hot breath against my neck. And the night is crushing me. Crushing me on all sides, as every part of what happened presses against my mind, replaying, picking it apart. Showing me again and again what happened, from the moment I woke up to right now.

it. “I was so damn terrified, so hurt. I don’t know if I can get past that.”

But the traitorous tear that falls from my eye tells a different story as it lands on my lip. It brines my happiness and rinses the smile away, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

And that, that secret sob I let drain into my pillow, is an ugly truth. But it’s not one I’m ready to face yet. So I let the satin soak it up, and then I fall asleep, the candor hidden beneath my head and shoved away by the time the morning dawns.

“Of course not,” he insists. “The saddles in this city are probably tougher than the whole of the army, for all they have to put up with.”

It’s strange to have a friend.

Sail keeps his eyes on me, ignoring the way the two pirates manhandle him, struggling not for himself, but to try to get closer to me, as if he wants to shield me, protect me from this. “Don’t fucking try anything,” one of the Pirates sneers, holding a blade against Sail’s side in clear warning.

“I’m so sorry, my lady,” Sail says, defeat and anger in his gaze.

Anger rises in me, anger and despair. I quickly remove my coat and place it over her shoulders to help cover her. She flinches when I touch her and tries to smack my hand away, but when she sees that it’s me, the fight seeps out of her. “What are you doing?” she asks, the usual mocking bite from her tone absent. I ignore her question and instead grab her arm and shove it through the arm of my coat before helping her arm through the other side. When her arms are in, I do up the buttons, though my hands are shaking so hard that it takes me several

But through it all, Sail keeps looking at me, gaze steady and unyielding. When my body shivers, he holds his in. When my lips tremble, he pulls his up into a sad smile. When a tear falls against my cold cheek, he nods, still speaking to me, even without words. You’re okay, you’re okay. He protects me, bolsters me, there in those kind blue eyes. So I don’t look away from him when another one of our guards crumples to the ground. I don’t look away when a fire claw growls, so close that I swear it’s about to slash a line down my back. I don’t look away when one of the women wails and begs. Her cries like a shatter through brittle ice. I don’t look away. And then, someone descends. From

He starts to tug at the collar of my dress, scratching at my chest, but a voice shouts behind him. “Don’t fucking touch her!” Captain Fane stills. His hand drops. Slowly, he turns around. “Who said that?” One of the pirates walks up to a still kneeling Sail. “This one, Cap’n.”

“I said, don’t touch her,” he repeats, his tone livid. A band around my heart constricts.

It’s okay, it’s okay. But it’s not okay. Not at all. Because before that nod is even finished, the captain has unhooked a knife from the scabbard at his waist and rammed it into Sail’s chest. Straight through to his heart. “No!”

My heart shatters itself against my ribs. He looks at me, my teardrops landing on his. I sob. He shudders. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I cry. Lying for him, as he did for me. And with his last breath, he nods.

him. They trussed up his lifeless body at the front of the ship, against a stained wooden post. Ropes are wrapped around him, forcing his body straight against the pole. His vacant eyes are still open, looking ahead at nothing, but it was a gaze that was meant for me, a gaze that he offered with his last dying breath.

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

To where my ribbons are cutting through the last of the ropes.

killed him, and I couldn’t stop it. But I can stop this. I can stop the Red Raids from dishonoring Sail’s body. So I will. With gritted teeth, with sweat and sleet dripping down my temples, I heave. I keep two ribbons loose, poised at my sides, ready to lash out at any who approach or try to stop me. But the pirates backed off at Captain Fane’s order, so it’s just me. Just me, dragging Sail’s body slowly—too slowly—as the captain stomps toward me, fists clenched and eyes raving. My back hits the railing of the ship, and I waste no time to lean down, placing my hands under Sail’s arms. I pull as hard as I can, ribbons straining with me as we try to get him up. Heavy. So damn heavy.

Captain Fane laughs. “Not even your fellow whores are willing to help you.” His voice is so thoroughly pleased. I sniff, forcing myself to keep it together, to not give up. Sail didn’t give up, not for a second. I can do no less for him. I will do this. I heave again, ribbons straining, pulling at the skin of my back, like sewing needles threaded through the muscles. Captain Fane takes a taunting step closer to me. Close, but not close enough for my ribbons to lash at him. He studies them, taking in the way they curl, the way they tug. Vile eyes flick up, a crooked smile showing off those few wooden teeth. “Look, Reds. A true fuck puppet. She even comes with her own strings.”

In a snap decision, I wrap the remaining two ribbons around Sail, leaving me defenseless to the captain’s advances. All of this will be pointless if I don’t. The last two ribbons give me the extra strength I need. Captain Fane lunges for me, but he’s too late, because I’ve hauled Sail’s body up and over the side. The second I do, my ribbons unwind from his body, passing him over to gravity’s clutches, and he falls.

No, I accomplished exactly what I meant to. I got Sail away from here. Away from these pirates, off this ship.

“You can’t disrespect his body anymore,” I say boldly. Bright side. It’s the only bright side I have right now to cling to, as bleak and grim as it is. Captain Fane’s grip tightens on my ribbons in anger at my words. They’re tired, wet, and wilted, crushed in his hold and sapped of strength, same as me. “Fine,” he says against my neck as he leads me on. “Then I suppose I’ll just disrespect yours.”

…what the fuck

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

ground. I tip up my chin. He disrespected Sail’s body, and now he’s disrespecting Rissa’s. Rissa, who’s willing to do anything to make it through. Rissa, who would’ve performed and taken everything he threw at her like a professional, because that’s how strong she is. But as I’ve come to find, I have my limits.

His fist comes up, ready to hit, or grab my hair, or make me kneel, or toss me down. I don’t know for sure what he means to do as that hand comes for me so fast, but it doesn’t matter. Because I’m faster. Without hesitating, without thinking, I rush, not away from him, but closer. I cut the gap between us like a knife plunging forward, and then I slap my bare palm against the skin at his neck.

He goes still as my hand squeezes tighter around his neck. Behind me, I hear Rissa gasp. Because there, at the spot beneath my palm, a change starts to spread across his skin.

Because I just turned the motherfucker solid gold.

yes she did👏

captain. “He’s much better like this, don’t you think? No more talking or moving...” I glance down at his cock that’s still standing at attention, my lips pursed in thought. “I bet we could even hack that thing off with a hammer if you wanted to.”

“Oh, yes,” I assure her. “Very, very dead.”

“You told him to stop hurting me.” I nod carefully. “I did.” She considers me for a moment. “The last time you tried to help me, you chucked a book at my head.” I grimace a little. “I’m a bit impulsive.” She looks at the captain. “I’ll say.” Worry gnaws on my bones like a starved mutt as silence stretches between us. Sure, I tried to stand up to the captain, but she’d already been hurt. Despite everything that’s happened tonight, I can’t assume I’ve earned any kind of loyalty from her. But she finally nods. “Okay.”

“It was kind of worth it,” I grumble. She cocks her head, considering. Then she turns and brings the meat of her fist down onto the captain’s dick with an impressive hit. It would’ve definitely hurt if he were still made of flesh. And alive. “Ow,” she says, frowning at the unmoving gold phallus. She rubs her sore hand and looks at me. “Hmm. You’re right. That was worth it.”

“A fitting end, I think.” I give a tired snort.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He’s terrifying. He’s ethereal. He’s so very, very fae.

“I know what you are,” I say with a sharp tone, my accusation escaping with a puff of hazy air between us. A slow smirk spreads over his mouth, a menacing curl of his lips that makes my heart stumble. He takes a single step forward, a simple move that somehow sucks all the air out of the world. He leans in, his aura pushing at me, testing, feeling, overwhelming. And despite the frigid air of the Barrens, despite the deafening noises of the scraping ships and the marching army, his voice presses hot and resonant against my ear as he speaks. “Funny, I was about to say the same thing to you.”