Home > Books > Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)(132)

Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)(132)

Author:Raven Kennedy

Noises break up the monotony spinning through my head, and I look up just as my two guards come stomping in the house. Snow falls off of them like splatters of mud, wet clumps to seep into the floor.

Their faces are brittle with frost clinging to their eyebrows, reddened cheeks behind scarves they’ve wrapped around their mouths and nose. Jeo walks in behind them and shuts the door, and I get to my feet expectantly.

“Well?” I ask as they begin to remove their iced capes to hang near the fire.

The blond haired one named Tobyn bows first, while Nile, the older one with a peppering of gray, leans down to take off his boots.

“We weren’t spotted, my queen,” Tobyn tells me, still slightly out of breath.

“But what did you learn in the city?” I press. “Are they still rioting? What sort of force has taken over the castle?”

“They aren’t,” Nile says, heavy shoes landing with a thump.

I blink at him, noting the look that he and Tobyn share. I don’t care that they’ve walked miles in the snow both ways from the city to our little hidden hub behind the mountain. I’ve been waiting for over twelve hours to hear what they found. “Explain.”

“Here.” Jeo comes up, pressing tin cups of steaming tea into the men’s hands. Both of the guards murmur their thanks at him. “Have a seat, you’re probably ready to keel over.” I suppress a sigh of impatience as they take their time drinking half the cups and sit down beside the fire.

My look of displeasure lands on the side of Jeo’s face, but he doesn’t turn to acknowledge it, even though I know he can feel it clinging to his profile like a frost.

“I want to know what you found.” My tone grinds against the irritation like a worn cog. “I need to send word to my allies and order for the noble houses to bring their soldiers to me. I will need every last sword, but once they’ve all gathered, I can take back Highbell.”

Tension pulls between the guards like a sharpened string.

“Your Majesty,” Tobyn starts, looking like he’s swallowed a bug. “King Midas sent forces…”

My body goes still. “What do you mean he sent forces?” I exclaim. “The rest of his army is in Fifth Kingdom with him. They couldn’t possibly have gotten here that quickly.”

“If I may?” Sir Pruinn cuts in. With a sharp glance from me, he says, “I informed you that King Midas had sent his messenger man to deliver his…deal with you, knowing more than likely you wouldn’t agree to it, and he was ready for such a response. He had his messenger and possibly others help speed discord throughout the city. It wouldn’t be a great leap to believe that, since he had the foresight to spread the rebellion, he’d have a way to snuff it out too.”

My sharp nails dig into the wood of the armrest. My tone is so even, so quiet, that every man in the room goes tense from the taut line of it. “Are you telling me that this rebellion that Tyndall engineered to happen was just as easily squashed by the very person who machinated the entire thing?”

“I don’t know anything about all of that…” Tobyn says, scratching the back of his head nervously. “But we can confirm that the riots have been controlled. It seems King Midas’s force re-took the castle, arresting most of them, and the revolters backed down. The king then offered payment to anyone who ceased their part in the destruction of the city, and is allowing some to relocate to Fifth Kingdom.”

I leap to my feet and pace toward the window, my fists bunched at my sides so hard that it feels as if my bones might shatter.

“Your Majesty?”

I stare out the dirty panes, across the frozen water, into the back of the mountain. Gaze boring through the ice and snow and rock to find my castle behind it.

He took it from me. Again.

My throne, my crown, my castle, my home.

He’s not even here, and still, he managed to take it right out from under me.

“Send word to my allies,” I say, turning around. “The ones who swore loyalty to the Coliers. Tyndall couldn’t have sent many forces, not if he’s kept some with him in Fifth. With their men, I can take it back, I can—”

Tobyn cuts me off with a shake of his head. “My queen, the nobles have fled to Fifth already, and…”

“And what?” I demand past a snap of teeth.

Tobyn shares another glance with Nile, and my attention bites into the older guard. He straightens up, as if he’s anticipating a blow to land after he says, “There was a public announcement yesterday. That you were…well, assassinated in the rebel attacks. King Midas’s sigil was branded on the statement.”