Glint (The Plated Prisoner, #2)

by Raven Kennedy

I’ve worn a crown my entire life, but I’m finally going to wield it.

My throat is raw and sore, abused from the night that seemed to never end. First it wailed in shocked misery, and then it squeezed, closing out any hope of breath.

Exhaustion is a chain locked around my ankles, cuffed over my wrists, draped around my shoulders.

Time changes with torment. It stretches on, lengthening seconds, extending minutes.

If they did, they’d know I’m just a girl with jagged rips and pitted holes inside of her, with golden skin hiding a broken heart.

No one sees your watery smile when you’ve got the clouds to compete with.

I’ve found that some smells are strings tied around memories. When you catch certain scents, those strings pull taut.

The splintering crack is creeping out, like the web of a spider, silk-thin strands spreading, imperfections in the clear love I’ve always had for him.

The pessimism seeping from her tongue is a strong poison without any antidote.

“I hope you burn so bright that you scorch your Golden King down to ash.”

stuck in a world that seems determined to keep me from rising.

I hold the weight of wealth in my hands, and it’s so damn heavy to carry.

A veil has been lifted—a veil I put there, over my own eyes. Now it’s ripped away, and I can see everything more clearly.

The sun flees, and my gold-touch magic flees with it.

He’s Rip and he’s Rot. He’s the fae and the king.

“Yes, Goldfinch, I am. But you can call me Slade.”