“I will.”
I walk him to the cage door, and he goes out, turning to shut it behind him, locking it securely. He slips the key into his pocket and lightly pats it. A reminder that no one can get to me, that he and he alone can open my cage.
“Good night, Precious.”
My hands come up to curl around the bars. “Good night.”
With a nod, Midas walks out, the bedroom door closing behind him.
As soon as he’s gone, the happy smile slips off my face, like water that drips from slow-melting snow. I try not to think of where he’s going, what he’ll do. She’s his wife, and I’m the gilded pet she tolerates.
I turn, my back leaning against the bars, my gaze skimming over the chair, the table, the pillows piled on my four poster bed, the blankets in a fluffed tangle. I have everything I could ever need here, every comfort I never thought I’d have.
Midas has never let me down. I’m no longer in danger. I no longer have to worry every moment of every day. He’s kept his promise, kept it the moment he found me.
So why, when that cage door shuts, do I still feel lost?
Chapter 22
AUREN
“Ho there, Gild, that you?”
I stiffen at Keg’s loud voice and stop in my tracks. All of the soldiers standing in line for their ration of dinner look over at me.
I’m surprised Keg picked me out in the crowd. I thought I’d been doing a pretty good job of being covert. But I guess even at night, I’m like a beacon. Glowing gold in the light of the fires, while everyone else is shrouded in black.
“I know you hear me, girl. Get your arse over here!”
With a sigh of defeat, I turn and make my way toward the fire. As I walk, the soldiers move out of my way, giving me a wide berth. Maybe talk of Osrik teaching a lesson to those two soldiers has spread throughout the camp.
Keg slops out spoonfuls of food to waiting soldiers as I stop in front of him. Just like at breakfast, he’s stirring something in a massive pot, except it’s soup instead of porridge.
“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you at my fire the last two mornings,” he says with a frown.
“I was a little under the weather.” Despite the fact that I tossed Hojat like a wad of paper, the mender has been very attentive, making sure I’m loaded up with medicines and food and extra furs.
Keg impatiently snaps his finger for another soldier to hold his bowl out, so he can dole out another serving. “Sorry to hear that,” he tells me. “You know what’s good for being under the weather?”
“What?”
Brown eyes flick over to me. “Eating my hot food that I serve at my fire.”
A snort escapes me. “Sorry. I’ll be sure to remember that for next time.”
“See that you do,” he says with an imperious nod. “You feeling better now?”
“Much.” And it’s true. My headache is gone, my throat no longer sore. I don’t even have a cough. Even my ribs, shoulder, and face are all healed up.
“Alright then, no reason not to be eating now.” He holds a hand up at the people in line to stop them from coming forward and then picks up an iron cup from the pile before shoving it at me. “You’ll get an extra portion tonight since you missed this morning.”
“Hey, your breakfast gave me the runs earlier. Can I get an extra serving too?” one of the men guffaws.
“No,” Keg snaps. “And you got the runs ’cause your uniform squeezes your fat ass belly all day,” he retorts, making some of the others bark out laughter.
“Here,” Keg says, knocking his spoon against my cup and filling it to the brim. “That’ll stick to your ribs.”
“Thanks, Keg.”