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.

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 admit, I don’t know a lot about the inner workings of a king’s mind. I don’t know how their advisors advise them. But I do know this: 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 it through the day—in order to help ourselves sleep at night.

I wish I could string up the sun and keep it tied in the sky, but wishes are for stars, and I hardly get to see any of those anyway.

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

It’s easy, so easy to make it across the ship. To pass by without anyone bothering to even look my way. It’s the arrogance of men, to think so little of women. And it’ll be their downfall too.

“I’ll buy all of them. The horses too, though you can keep their gaudy gold armor. They’ll have no need of it.”

Captain Fane grins. “Aye. When Midas finds out that you and your king have his men and his whores, he’s going to lose his head.”

“I’m counting on it, Captain.”

goldfinch.”