Home > Books > Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)(150)

Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)(150)

Author:Raven Kennedy

Slade stops in his steps like he just ran into a wall, his aura suddenly gone pitch-black, like a moonless night. His scales shimmer as his head turns toward me, eyes narrowed. Lu whistles low and steps a few feet ahead.

He raises his finger and says, “I’m going to let that slide once.” His tone is the steady rumble of a brewing storm that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright. Not in fear—I’m not afraid of him—but in response to the utter impact that lands with each word. It’s a force as great as the quaking of the ground, threatening to topple me if I don’t dig in my heels. “But hear me now, Auren. You are not nothing.” Fierce eyes take me in, holding me hostage. “Understand?”

I nod slowly, the weight of his declaration settling in my bones, not as a burden but a bolster. “Understand.”

He searches my face like he wants to make sure I’m telling the truth, and then he nods sharply. “Good.”

I breathe out, embarrassed to admit that I’m a little turned on right now. But damn, that was intensely sexy.

When we start walking again and catch up to Lu, she smirks at me. “You got in trouble,” she singsongs.

“Shut it,” I grumble. “I didn’t mean it like that, anyway.”

“Good, because this is how it is, Gildy. You’re one of us now. We always have each other’s backs. It’s us against the world.”

I’ve never had real friends before, people I could trust and depend on. “It’s going to take some getting used to,” I admit.

Slade grunts next to me, and I smile at the stubborn look on his face. “Now who’s the impatient one?” I say, nudging him with my elbow.

An entirely different sort of look hoods his eyes. “If you intend to go back to Ranhold, then it would be prudent not to tease me.”

“Prudent, hmm?” Lu puts in. “Awfully fancy talk for our bloodthirsty commander.”

He rolls his eyes.

“How did you all start working together?”

“I scouted them,” Slade replies. “They all became soldiers under my command, and they proved to be smart and skilled. But the loyalty…that came with time. Osrik was originally from First Kingdom. We actually battled one another—he belonged to a team of mercenaries.”

My brows lift. “Really?”

He and Lu share a smirk. “Yep. The big bastard nearly knocked me off my horse, so he impressed me. After the scuffle was over, Judd and I persuaded Os to join us and train as my soldier instead. He took the deal,” Slade explains.

“Course he did. He had my sword to his balls,” Lu chirps, sounding happy about it.

I wince a little. “That recruitment method seems a little violent.”

Lu snorts. “It’s better than when the commander tossed Judd’s ass in jail.”

My eyes go wide. “You did?”

Slade nods. “He was a wanderer with sticky fingers, kept stealing from noble houses. But once we finally caught him, the prick made a game of it. He’d break out of his cell nearly every day and then wait like the cocky bastard he is, outside of the bars, amused as can be. I had to offer him a deal just so he’d stop making a mockery of our jailhouse.”

I laugh, shaking my head as I imagine it all. “That sounds like something Judd would do. What about you?” I ask Lu. “How’d you come to join Fourth’s army?”

All the easygoing openness shutters in her eyes with a single blink, and her expression goes stoic. “A story for another day.”

My curiosity burns, but I have enough in my past that I don’t like to think about, let alone talk about, so I know better than to press. Instead, I say, “The way you guys are with each other…so much trust there.”

“We’ve been together for a long time,” Lu replies, casting Slade a smile. It’s not flirtatious in any way, but familial and affectionate.

A sudden shout cuts through the air. “Ho there!”

My head whips around at the call, and I squint through the fog to see a large campfire where a group of soldiers are gathered. Right there in the center of it all, stirring something over an iron pot and grinning from ear to ear, is a familiar face.

“Hey, Keg.” I wave as I walk over with a smile.

Without taking his eyes off me, Keg slops a spoonful of stew into the bowl of the soldier in front of him. A bunch of it splashes out, and the soldier grumbles before walking off. Good ol’ Keg.

“Gildy, I thought that was you,” Keg says, shoving back his long, twisted black hair, making the dangling bits of woven-in wood jangle together like chimes. “What are you doing out here slumming it? Shouldn’t you be up in that fancy ass castle?”