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I get no time to reply before he walks out. With a defeated sigh, I push up and get dressed, and by the time I step outside, there are already two soldiers waiting there to break down the tent.

I mutter an apology for keeping them waiting and head to the fires for food, only to find that those have been put out early too. I find Keg next to a cart, passing out dried rations, which sends the men grumbling. The porridge may not taste any better, but it’s hot, and that does wonders for morale when you’re stuck marching through frozen wastelands.

“Morning, Gildy,” Keg says, passing me a hard roll and a dried strip of salted meat.

“Morning.”

Keg’s usual banter is cut short, since all the soldiers are in a rush, the tents being broken down, horses being drawn, impatience thick in the air. I take my cue and wander away to leave him to it, biting off bits of food so chewy it makes my jaw ache.

When I get to my carriage, I’m surprised to find Lu there helping my driver hitch up the horses.

Lu turns with a cocked brow when she sees me. “Gildy Locks,” she says before turning to tighten the strap she’s working on.

“Morning, Lu.” I run a gloved hand over the horse’s neck, admiring his sleek black hair.

Finishing, she pats the horse on the back and faces me. “Someone pissed in the commander’s stew. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

My face grows hot. “No.”

I must fail miserably at trying to keep an impassive expression, because she grunts. “Mm-hmm. Thought so.”

I suddenly become very interested in the horse’s mane, making sure to keep my eyes trained on it.

“Can I give you some advice, Gildy?”

I shift on my feet. “Umm...sure.”

“Own your shit.”

My gaze snaps over to her. “What?”

Lu sighs and glances over at the driver, who just climbed up into the carriage’s seat. “Take a walk, Cormac.”

Pausing in his almost-seated position, the man lets out a sigh, but he turns and climbs down, walking away without argument. It’s more than a little impressive that she can give an order and men will follow it.

When we’re alone with the horses and a slowly lightening sky, Lu leans against the wall of the carriage to face me. She watches me for a moment, like she’s studying me, reading something in my eyes. “We’re women in a man’s world. I’m sure you know how that is.”

I dip my chin. “I do.”

“Good,” she says with a terse nod, the shaven blades in her scalp stabbing down with the movement. “Then you know that we have two options.” She lifts a finger. “The first is, we can conform. Be what they want, act to please. It’s the safe option.”

I fidget on my feet. Every part of me is listening, attention rapt, though uneasiness mingles alongside my intrigue. “And option two?”

She holds up a second finger, but instead of doing it on the same hand, she raises her other. I don’t know why that feels significant, but it does.

“Option two is harder. It’s harder for us,” she admits, looking me straight in the eye. “There will always be someone who will try to make us choose option one. But don’t. Don’t lie down to make it easier for the world to keep you under its thumb. Own your shit and choose yourself.”

She drops her hands, and I know right then that she knows what I did—that I sent that letter. What I don’t get is why I’m not shackled in chains, tossed in the prisoner’s cart with the rest of Midas’s guards.

“You and I are different, though,” I tell her thickly. “You’re a warrior, and I’m...” My sentence trails off because I don’t even know.

I don’t know what I am now.

I do know what I was. I was a little fae girl who got ripped from her world. I was sold to flesh traders. I was used as a beggar before I got old enough to be used in other ways.

I was hopeless.

Then with Midas, he changed that, and I got to be something else, something I’d always hoped to be.


Tags: Raven Kennedy The Plated Prisoner Fantasy