Home > Books > Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)(168)

Gleam (The Plated Prisoner, #3)(168)

Author:Raven Kennedy

Behind his gray beard, I see his lips tremble, his eyes holding a sheen of sadness, and it hits me right in the chest. The sight of him like this, beaten and bruised, left in a cold, dark room for who knows how long, it kills me.

“Don’t cry.”

Just hearing his gruff voice makes me cry harder. Teardrops dapple my face, each one a grievance left to splatter on the ground.

I force myself to sit up so I can see him better, gritting my teeth past the pain that shoots down my back, the tattered ends of deadened ribbons spiking with agony.

Digby’s lips thin as he watches me curse and pant and wince, but I manage to get into a sitting position, though my stomach is roiling by the time that I do. With my back too tender, I scoot over to the corner, and then let my shoulder and arm slump against the wall so that I don’t graze my wounds.

Swiping away the tears on my face, I look at Digby, knowing that if he’s not trying to move, then he must really be hurt.

Dragging my eyes over his wrinkled old uniform, I wonder exactly what kind of injuries he’s sustained.

“I didn’t know you were here,” I whisper.

He nods.

“I thought you were dead.”

He shakes his head in answer.

The smallest smile tips my lips. “There’s my guard of few words,” I tease gently, even though it feels forced, even though every breath I pull in shoots pain down my back.

Digby grunts in response, but I can see that his own mouth twitches too. It’s a farce—this tiny bit of comfort. But it’s the only bit we’ll have.

“What happened?” I ask, voice hoarse and twinging. “How did you get here?”

His eyes flicker. “Saw you get taken.”

“By the Red Raids?”

Digby nods and says, “Rode straight here to alert the king so he could send help. I’ve been in this room ever since.” His voice is even more grating than mine, and I wonder if it’s from disuse. When I calculate how long he must’ve been in here, hurt and alone…

My stomach clenches between fists, wrung out until I can taste bile on my tongue. “He never should’ve done this to you,” I say, the anger in me fighting with the drugged haze in my system.

“I failed you, my lady. He was right to lock me up.”

“Stop with the my lady shit, and don’t you dare think that any of this is justified. It’s not.” None of it.

My eyes fall unbidden to the floor again, to the ribbon I’m still clutching in my hand.

Digby’s gaze follows, but he doesn’t speak about them. Maybe he can sense that I’m barely holding on by the ruined stubs that hang limp along my spine. For once, I’m grateful for his penchant for few words.

Yet even though he doesn’t bring it up, I see his hand curl into a fist, though his pinky doesn’t move. From fingernail to second knuckle, it’s stained like he dipped it in an inkwell. Claimed by the bite of frost, probably while he rode to Fifth to help save me.

How much more of him has been deadened? What other parts of him are hurt irrevocably because of Midas and me?

I close my eyes and let my head drop against the wall beside me, the cold stone pressing against my tender cheek. “Sail died,” I whisper, and even now, I feel my chest constrict at saying those words aloud.

“He was a good soldier.”

“He was a good man,” I reply. “He died protecting me, and now you…”

“Don’t you worry about me,” he retorts. “I want you to worry about you. I want you to be safe even when I can’t stand guard.”

Water rushes into my eyes, and my bottom lip trembles. My heart isn’t just beating—it’s taken a beating too.

“I’m so sorry, Dig,” I say softly, my throat squeezing shut. When I open my eyes again, he’s still looking at me, no blame in his expression, no hate. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get you out of here. Strike a deal with Midas to get him to let you go.”

But Digby shakes his head. “I’m your guard, Miss Auren. My place is with you,” he declares, as though it should be obvious.

Something sharp and small stabs right through my heart. Who knew loyalty could hurt so much?

“Now isn’t the time to be stubborn.”

“I’m not.” He rolls his neck a bit so he can look up at the ceiling. Maybe it’s just as hard for him to look at the tattered remains on the floor as it is for me. “The second I was assigned the post to be your guard, I found my purpose, my lady. All those other shits weren’t good enough to watch over you.”