Gild (The Plated Prisoner #1) - Raven Kennedy Page 0,58

Midas sleep with others, but for her to throw it in my face, and with Sail and the other guards nearby to hear…

Polly smiles at me, clearly pleased with herself. “Don’t worry. I’ll keep King Midas satisfied.”

Sail shoots me a sympathetic look, but that somehow just makes this all so much worse. Notching my heels against Crisp’s sides, I urge the horse forward. I don’t offer Sail a fake explanation for fleeing as I dart past him and the carriage, there’s no point.

I pass by Polly’s carriage without a look, my teeth gritted and my cheeks searing. Clenching my fingers on the reins, I direct Crisp between the guards in front of us, squeezing my way past them, not caring when their own horses are forced to move over.

Distance. I just need distance.

I veer around horse after horse, not slowing down until I’ve nearly made it to the front of the caravan, far away from Polly and her hateful tongue. As if I could run away from my own disappointments. As if I could avoid my hurts, my shame, my dark thoughts that creep out every time I close my eyes for sleep.

One day, I suspect those plaguing thoughts will want to stop being ignored. They’ll catch up. They’ll slink past me, refusing to be hidden in a tear-soaked pillow or between the cracks of a mirror.

Sooner or later, every troubled thought and aching bitterness is going to come pouring out and demand I face them.

But not tonight.

Not yet.

Chapter Twenty

I let Crisp fall back into a slower canter, the last of my hope of bonding with the other saddles sparking out, like the wet wick of a candle.

Time to accept it, to be glad that at least I have one friend in this travel party. One friend, and one gruff, protective guard who killed a king to save me. That’s much more than I ever expected to have.

After a few short minutes of brooding alone in silence, Sail comes trotting up beside me, just like I knew he would. “Ignore Polly. She’s just jealous.”

I give him a wry look, pretending not to be hurt, not to care. “Ignore her. Just like you ignored Frilly yesterday?”

The tops of his cheeks redden, and he whips his face forward. “What? No, nothing happened. She just needed an extra blanket, that was all.”

“Relax. I’m just teasing.”

Sail glances around, as if worried someone might hear and believe anything other than the innocent truth. I understand the worry though, since the royal saddles are just that—for royalty. They’re not permitted to be with anyone else. And even gossip could destroy both Frilly and Sail both—something I won’t let happen.

“You have any girls pining for you back at home?” I ask, curious about his life outside of the army, when he’s not wearing armor or carrying a sword.

Sail flashes that boyish charm of his again as he leans toward me. “Just a few,” he jokes. “Three or four, but they don’t pine nearly as much as I want them to.”

I snicker. “Is that so? Well, I hope you treat them kindly.”

“I treat them very kindly. This boy from the shanties has got a few tricks up his sleeve.”

Another laugh spills from my mouth. “Care to share these tricks?”

Sail enthusiastically opens his mouth to answer, but Digby appears at my other side again, cutting in with a scowl. “No sharing tricks with the king’s favored,” he snaps in exasperation. “Do you want King Midas to cut off your head and cast it in gold, boy?”

Sail goes pale and shakes his head. “No, sir.”

I sigh and look over at my stoic, ever-grumpy guard. “Don’t be such a killjoy, Dig.”

“Carriage,” he replies gruffly.

“No, thank you,” I reply sweetly.

He sighs at my stubbornness, and I smile at his aggravation. It’s not a drinking game by any means, but it’s still the most fun I’ve had with Digby, and he’s talking to me now more than ever. I count it as a major victory.

While our group carries on, one after the other, Sail entertains me with stories of growing up with four older brothers, distracting me enough that I barely notice the ache in my legs.

The clouds roil over us like a curled surf of a moody sea, tossing arctic mist in the air. The horses in front create the snow breaks for the rest of us to walk, but trudging through thick snow to cut a path is tiring and difficult, even for our hardy horses, so Digby constantly rotates out