Gild (The Plated Prisoner Series Book 1) by Raven Kennedy (digital book reader .TXT) 📗

the palace, off the mountain, and I just want to see it, see everything. And not behind a pane of glass like always, but in the wide open, with the outside all around me, and me on the outside with it.

The moment the carriage wheels start rolling easily over the paved city road, I rap my knuckle against the window. Digby is riding next to me, of course, and his head whips to the side when he hears my knock. But I don’t wait or give him a moment to stop me. Instead, I open the carriage door while it’s still moving—albeit slowly—and I jump.

Digby swears and calls for my carriage to stop, but it’s too late. I’ve already landed on the ground with a spring in my step as my boots hit the ground. Digby pulls his horse over to me, a scowl curling down his weathered face. The sight makes me smile.

“Glaring so soon, Dig?” I tease. “This isn’t a good sign for our journey, is it?”

“Back inside, my lady.”

Digby doesn’t look amused. Not at all. But of course, that just makes my smile stretch wider.

“Glaring it is, then,” I say with a nod. “But scowl or no, I want to stretch my legs. I feel cooped up.”

He narrows his eyes, giving me a look like, Really? You’ve lived in a cage for the past ten years, but now you feel cooped up?

I shrug at his silent challenge. “Can I ride a horse for a while?”

He shakes his head. “It’s sleeting.”

I wave it off. “Barely. Besides, the sky is always doing something here. But I have a hood, and I’m not cold,” I assure him. “I want to feel the air on my face. Just for a little while.”

His gray eyebrows pull together as he looks down at me from his spot on his horse, but I wave my hand ahead of us, toward the city’s buildings where people are walking around. “It’s safe in Highbell, isn’t it?” I ask him.

Of course it is, which is why I asked.

“Fine,” Digby finally says. “But if the weather gets worse, or if you get too cold, you’ll have to return to the carriage.”

I nod, trying not to visibly gloat.

“You know how to ride?” he presses, looking unconvinced.

Another quick nod. “Of course. I’m an excellent horse rider.”

He regards me dubiously, seeing right through my smile, but he doesn’t question me further. Truth be told, I’m not sure that I do still know how to ride a horse, but I guess we’re all about to find out.

Digby whistles, and a pure white horse is brought forward by another guard holding the reins. I walk over to it, running my eyes over the animal, noting the long, shaggy hair all over his body.

Sixth Kingdom horses were specifically bred to withstand the cold. They have long, thick hair all over their bodies, the longest at their chests and right above their hooves. But even so, they’ve still been equipped with heavy woolen blankets draped over their backs beneath their saddles, along with thick leg warmers.

I walk up to the horse, crooning a soft hello as he blinks at me. I lift a gloved hand to his nose and pet him slowly, noting how his braided tail flicks. The Highbell emblem on the front leather harness hanging around his neck sits proudly against his chest, gleaming in gold.

When he nudges my hand for daring to slow my strokes, I smile and continue to rub his nose affectionately. “What’s his name?”

“Crisp,” the other guard answers me, hood over his head, matching cloak and gloves to keep the cold out.

I hum and look again into the horse’s eye. “Help me out here, okay, Crisp?” I murmur to him before I circle around to the saddle.

Luckily, he’s not too tall, so I easily slip my foot into the stirrup and then stand, praying that I don’t embarrass myself and go falling on my ass.

Gritting my teeth, I swing my leg over the other side, my grasp slipping slightly on the saddle before I manage to hoist myself up. I beam as soon as I get settled on top of Crisp, shooting a pleased look at Digby, only to find all of the guards staring openly at me with something akin to horror.

My smile drops. “What?”

Digby scowls at the others. “Move out!” His words snap everyone to attention, and the other riders face forward before the procession starts moving once more.

I look over at Digby as I fix the hood over my head to keep the icy rain off my face.

Digby nudges his horse forward, staying to my right, and clearly not going to tell me what that was all about. Looking over, I meet the eye of another guard who comes up to ride on my left. “Why were they looking at me like that?” I ask.

The guard looks at me sheepishly, a blush crawling over his pale cheeks that I can see even beneath his hood. “Well...it’s just that ladies don’t normally sit astride.”

I look down at my legs straddling the horse. “Oh.” I forgot that. I always rode this way before, but I wasn’t worried about propriety then.

Behind me, in one of the carriages holding the other saddles, I hear feminine snickers at my expense. “So she does like to spread her legs after all,” I hear one of them say—Polly. That’s Polly’s voice.

My cheeks heat. “Should I…”

But the guard shakes his head. “You’ll be more secure this way, and it’s better for long distances. Don’t worry about them,” he says, tipping his head at the carriage.

Nodding, I gently tug the right reins while pressing my left leg against Crisp to get him to turn a bit, to get him to move ahead, where I don’t have to hear the saddles’ taunts.

My horse maneuvers us with ease, and I breathe a sigh of relief that I seem to remember what the hell I’m doing. The longer I ride, the more relaxed I become, not even caring