Home > Books > Glow (The Plated Prisoner #4)(135)

Glow (The Plated Prisoner #4)(135)

Author:Raven Kennedy

That’s Lu’s voice, and her tone sounds…worried.

“I know,” Slade replies, a heavy resignation weighing down his words.

There’s a pause, and then I hear Digby say, “They’re idiots if they really think this about her. If you ask me, it’s just a bunch of caterwauling.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Judd replies. “They feel threatened. They’re too arrogant to think Midas was the liar. And anyway, it’s political. If there’s one thing you can always be sure of when it comes to rulers, it’s that they will always try to spin a situation to their advantage.”

My brows pull together in a frown.

The front door suddenly opens, and I jump, pressing my back against the shadowed wall as Ryatt comes stomping inside. If he was really looking, he’d spot me, but he stalks inside and rounds the doorway, his shadow spilling into the hall.

“Is it true?” he growls, making everyone else go quiet. “Is it?”

“Yes, it’s true,” I hear Slade say.

Ryatt makes a noise of frustration, and I see his shadow start to pace. “Fuck.”

A simmering unease sloshes against my stomach, tainting the hunger I had and replacing it with nausea. I know there’s something going on—something Slade hasn’t told me yet. That much was clear when I overheard him and Ryatt at the pavilion, and I got the same feeling when Slade received that hawk and didn’t offer an explanation. Sure, it could’ve been something minor, but I don’t think so.

For a second, I consider turning back around. Going back to the bedroom and hiding from all of this. But I can’t keep doing that. It’s time I take another step. So even though my anxiety is spiking up, like water levels rising to my ears, I force myself to push away from the wall. To walk into the living room.

As soon as I do, I see everyone gathered around the kitchen table. Slade’s eyes immediately flick up to me when I appear through the doorway, and I see the stress on his face a second before he wipes it away.

“Auren.”

Everyone else at the table turns to look at me, as does Ryatt, who was standing in the kitchen doorway with his back to me.

None of them quite have the poker face that Slade does. But even if they did, I’d still be able to sense something was wrong from their stinted silence. Even Hojat, whose presence is always so calm, has strained lines of worry creasing his face.

My eyes fall to the scroll that’s been rolled out on the table. It looks like it’s been passed hand to hand, crinkles marring the scrawled words.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my eyes dragging back up.

Lu and Judd look to Slade, and even Digby cocks a brow at him, like he’s waiting for Slade to come clean.

When Slade hesitates, Judd cuts in with an easygoing grin. “Hey there, Gildy. Heard you found out why we really call him Rip. Bit of a show-off, making a whole-ass rip into the world, don’t you think? Personally, I preferred all the rumors that we came up with to explain his nickname,” he tells me. “It was fun spreading them.”

Lu smirks. “Like he got the name for ripping people’s heads off in battles.”

Judd nods. “Or having ripped muscles—the women liked that one.”

“Rest In Peace.”

“Ripping people a new one.”

“Being a rip-off.”

“Ripping through lives.”

Judd’s eyes light up. “Or ripping some nasty ass far—”

“Enough,” Slade says with a sigh. Judd snickers.

“Thanks for that,” I tell them. “And yes, it was quite the surprise. But I really just want to know what’s happening now.” My eyes look around the room. “There’s something that’s been going on since we’ve been here, right?”

To my surprise, Ryatt is the one who answers. “Yes, there has been.”

“Ryatt,” Slade growls.

“What?” he snaps back. “She’s up. She’s healed. And now, she’s asking. You’re wasting time—time that’s not only yours to waste. It’s not hers to waste.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, unease churning through my stomach. “Is this about…Midas?”

Hojat shifts in his seat. Judd’s eyes move to Slade again. Lu flicks her wooden lip piercing with her tongue.

“What does the letter say?” I ask warily.

It’s the look on Slade’s face that makes my chest tighten, that makes cold dread flood my veins.

“What does it say, Slade?”