Glint (The Plated Prisoner, #2)

by Raven Kennedy

“The goldfinch likes her cage. What a shame.”

“Oh, Goldfinch. You think I’m a monster now, but you haven’t seen anything yet.”

You’d think that after weeks of traveling, I’d be used to using a latrine dug in the ground to relieve myself. But nope. There’s something about having to lift your skirts and squat in the snow that really drags a girl down.

The problem with truths is that they’re like spices. Add a little, and it can enrich things, let you experience more layers. But if you pour out too much, it becomes unpalatable.

“Your anger is misplaced, but I like it,” he says with a feral grin, sharp canines gleaming. “Every time you let it leak out just a little bit more, I can see you better, Goldfinch.”

“I can’t wait to see the rest of you. When you let it go, when you finally let that out, your fury is going to light up the spirit you’ve shadowed.” He looks like someone who’s won, boasting in superiority. “I hope you burn so bright that you scorch your Golden King down to ash.”

I suddenly understand the insects that fly willingly into carnivorous plants. The draw is too strong, the pull too bewitching, that you forget about the danger until you’re already trapped inside. Why is it that he can undress, and yet, it makes me feel vulnerable? Bright side? At least the view is nice.

Did I think he was beautiful before? I take it all back. He’s an ugly bastard.

Plotting is what I’m best at. A good thing too, since I lack both of the traits that this world respects: power and a penis.

“Kindness shouldn’t have to be earned. It should be freely given.”

Do you think it’ll be you battling tomorrow?” He shrugs. “Who knows? That’s up to the kings. I’m just here for the wine.”

I’ve been bending over backwards for so long that I forgot I even had a spine.