Gilded Serpent Danielle Jensen (i can read with my eyes shut .TXT) 📖

had moments before. That a change of hairstyle could make a girl look dangerous seemed ridiculous, but it had. Dangerously beautiful. “That should do it, although once we’re into Derin, you might avail yourself of a scarf.”

“Thank you.”

He shrugged, then gathered up the fallen strands of her hair, tossing them in the brush for the birds before moving on a little farther to gather berries from a bush. They’d need their supplies for when they were farther north, so for now it was better to live off the land. By the time he returned, dinner smelled near to finished. He carefully split the berries between two plates, divided the cornmeal cake and pheasant between them, and sprinkled salt over the food before handing Lydia her share.

Frowning, she tentatively picked up a piece of pheasant and took a bite, juices running down her chin. She chewed, then said, “This is good. Very good. Where did you learn to cook?”

“Picked it up over the years,” he answered between bites. “The downside of being born wealthy was that I developed a fairly refined palate that wasn’t well satisfied in army camps. Most soldiers can’t season food to save their souls, so I decided to learn to do it myself.” Popping a few of the berries into his mouth, he said, “You can’t cook, can you?”

Her cheeks flushed. “Not well.”

Which he suspected meant not at all. “Dish duty for you, then.”

“I’ve never done dishes, either.”

“I have every faith that you’ll figure it out.” He refrained from adding that he hated doing dishes—or cleaning of any sort—so he’d gladly catch and cook every meal if it spared him the labor.

They finished the rest of the meal in silence, Lydia gathering the dishes without comment and heading down to the stream with the lantern hooked over one elbow. He gave the fire a few pokes. Added some more wood. Then he decided the horses could use a drink, and untethering the pair, he led them slightly downstream of where Lydia crouched, her sleeves pulled up past her elbows, brow furrowed as she scrubbed vigorously at a plate before holding it up to the light to inspect.

Both geldings snuffled the water, then tried to pull back to the patch of grass they’d been grazing.

“Drink, you bastards,” he muttered, glaring at them as Lydia chuckled softly and said, “What’s the saying?”

“That horses keep their brains in their balls, which is why geldings are so damn stupid.” But the Rowenes soldiers preferred them to mares, so his choice had been limited. He glanced in her direction, the lantern revealing the smile on her face. “What?”

“I didn’t say a word.”

Glowering, he led the animals back to their patch of grass, where the pair of idiots immediately resumed their grazing. Sitting next to the fire, he stared at it until Lydia returned, stacking the dishes neatly to await breakfast before sitting across from him.

Don’t look at her, he silently ordered himself.

But his mutinous eyes immediately abandoned the flames for her face and his tongue, ever a follower, asked her, “Do you miss Celendor?”

For a few moments, Lydia was quiet. Then she said, “Sometimes.” Holding her slender hands over the fire, she added, “I’d be lying to say that I don’t miss the luxury of my life there, but mostly I miss my father. Bait told me he was alive when the Quincense set sail with the legions, and I pray that remains the case. He has Teriana’s mother in his care.”

“What’s he like?”

Her lips curved into a smile, eyes growing distant. “He’s kind. Which might not seem such a special attribute, except that in Celendor, kindness is a rarity. The Cel as a whole are a cruel nation of people, merciless and unforgiving. And while they tout themselves as the epitome of civilization, beneath the golden exterior, they sometimes seem so devoid of humanity as to be more beast than human.”

Taking a sip from her waterskin, she continued. “While he had his faults, my father saw the ugliness beneath the gilt and did what he could to enact change. The Valerius family has long been powerful and influential within the Senate, and he pushed for measures that would improve the treatment of those with less means, as well as advocated for the rights of individuals hailing from the conquered provinces, who are not citizens and therefore granted none of the privileges. His greatest wish was to abolish the indenture system within the Empire, which he considered barely a level above slavery, and to that end, all under his employ were free men and women who were paid fair wage and treated well, never whipped.”

“Whipped?” he demanded incredulously.

“Sometimes for as little as spilling their domina’s—their mistress’s—tea. It’s common practice to employ a servant whose singular role is to enact discipline,” she replied. “If you own someone’s indenture, you may do with them as you wish. Beat them, maim them, kill them, though the latter is rarely done because it means a loss on the investment. Most patricians—who are the equivalent to Mudamorian nobility—see punishment as a form of entertainment and go to great lengths to think up creative ways to inflict pain and suffering. The things I have seen…” Lydia gave a slight shake of her head as though to clear away visions. “My father abhorred such behavior and attempted to enact laws restricting it during his term as consul. He lost the vote in the Senate, and when he ran for a second term as consul, was not victorious, having lost many of his supposedly high-minded supporters because he’d dared to try to limit their cruelty. When I asked him if he regretted his actions, he told me the only thing he regretted was not fighting harder to see the law passed.”

“He seems a good man. What is his name?” It was strange that he didn’t know. Had never asked. He knew everything there was to know about Finn’s past. Knew the names of Sonia’s parents and what they did for