Glint (The Plated Prisoner, #2)

by Raven Kennedy

Gold may gleam, but it doesn’t stand the test of time. It wears down, loses its luster, becomes nothing but a needy, malleable surface with no durability.

I’m the captive of Fourth’s army, and there will be no room for fragility. I don’t know if the bones in my body are as gold as the rest of me, but for my sake, I hope they are. I hope my spine is gilded, because I’m going to need a strong backbone if I want to survive.

Time changes with torment. It stretches on, lengthening seconds, extending minutes. I’ve learned that pain and fear have a way of prolonging. And as if that weren’t cruel enough, our minds make sure we relive those moments again and again and again, long after they’ve passed. What a bastard, time is.

Shove down weakness, and strength will rise...

They think I’ll buckle, but they’ll soon realize I’m not that kind of saddle.

“We’re all captives of something, even things we don’t want to admit to.”

Peonies for good health. A willow branch for luck. Cotton stems for prosperity. The fleshy leaf of a jade to bring harmony.

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

You forget, I know what you are. You’re so much more than what you let yourself be.”

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

“I’M FAE!”

“There it is, Goldfinch,” he purrs, and that dark caress is back in his voice. “You’ve finally found your fight.”

“Sometimes,” he murmurs, “things need first to be ruined in order to then be remade.”

“We’re women in a man’s world. I’m sure you know how that is.” I dip my chin. “I do.” “Good,” she says with a terse nod, the shaven blades in her scalp stabbing down with the movement. “Then you know that we have two options.” She lifts a finger. “The first is, we can conform. Be what they want, act to please. It’s the safe option.” I fidget on my feet. Every part of me is listening, attention rapt, though uneasiness mingles alongside my intrigue. “And option two?” She holds up a second finger, but instead of doing it on the same hand, she raises her other. I don’t know why that feels significant, but it does. “Option two is harder. It’s harder for us,” she admits, looking me straight in the eye. “There will always be someone who will try to make us choose option one. But don’t. Don’t lie down to make it easier for the world to keep you under its thumb. Own your shit and choose yourself.”

“Kindness shouldn’t have to be earned. It should be freely given.” Keg laughs softly. “My ma used to say something like that,” he replies, looking over at me. “And you know what?” “What?” “She was a damn smart woman.”

“You saved me from the Red Raids, but I think you also saved me from myself. And even if it is a manipulation, a ploy, it’s worth it, for what I learned.”

“Time to go, Goldfinch.” My heart squeezes from the nickname as I get to my feet. I’m going to miss this, when I’m back with Midas. I’m going to miss him. That realization, this awakening awareness, it feels as if the world is moving beneath my feet. Like I’m going to look up and see the ground while I walk on the sky. Even more shocking is that it somehow feels right.

He shakes his head. “No, Auren. You’re the one that needs to burn. You need to spark to life and fight. Stop letting him dull you, stop letting the whole fucking world trample you,” he shouts, making me flinch from the vehement demand. “If you tried, you could shine brighter than the fucking sun. Instead, you’ve chosen to sit back and wither.”

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

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

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