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

his saddlebags and the tent they’d eventually need, rigging it into something more suitable for carrying on foot. Finally, she said, “Your family raises horses, don’t they? That’s why it’s your house’s symbol. How many do they have?”

“Yes. Yes. And a couple thousand head.”

“Do you remember your first horse?”

“I’ve had many. Here, let me do that.” Reaching over, he fashioned her gear into a pack, which he lifted onto her shoulders. “Let’s go.”

It hadn’t only been the speed and intensity of their travels that had stymied their conversation—it had been Killian. Since she’d told him about Celendor, about her father, about the servant woman, the words between them had been limited to necessity, and her attempts to get him to say more were met with obvious rebuke.

Was it because she’d allowed intimacy between them while knowing Malahi was alive, or was it because of the story she’d told him?

It was one she’d never told anyone—not even Teriana. Even thinking of it filled her with intense shame. It was tempting to claim she was better than the Cel out of virtue of the way they’d looked down upon her, but they’d raised her, and it had left its mark.

Why did you tell him? an angry little voice whispered inside her head. Now he thinks you’re awful.

Kicking angrily at a rock, she tried to push the thoughts from her head, but as they walked on and on, her mind stewed and twisted, coming up with things to say only to reject them before they reached her lips, which, given that it was obviously Killian’s preference, meant they walked for hours in silence that wasn’t broken until they reached a stream nearly large enough to be called a river.

“How do we get across?” she asked as they stopped next to its banks. Ice crusted the edges, and it looked deep enough to reach her hips, if not higher.

Killian pulled off his boots, and she noted one of his woolen socks had a hole in the toe before he tugged it off. “Give me your pack. And wait here.”

She handed it off, watching as he waded across the stream, the water rising nearly to his waist. On the far side, he tossed boots and packs on the bank, then returned across.

His teeth chattering, he said, “Hold on.” Then he reached down and caught her behind the knees, lifting her into his arms.

“Killian, I can walk!”

“No sense both of us getting soaked.” He stepped into the water, and within a few paces, she could feel him straining against the current, his eyes fixed on the flow. But instead of watching the water, Lydia found herself looking at his face. His dark hair had fallen forward, and she had to curb the urge not to reach up and brush it back.

He slipped slightly on the streambed, and she gasped as his hands tightened against her ribs and on the back of her thighs where he gripped her. “I won’t drop you,” he muttered, regaining his balance and moving on, until eventually, he set her on her feet on the opposite bank.

Shivering hard, he pulled on socks and boots before donning his pack. Then he frowned, looking her over. “Aren’t you carrying a weapon?”

Lydia’s chest tightened and she shook her head, the only blade she had the tiny one she used for eating.

Extracting a significantly longer blade from his boot, he held it out to her. “Here. Take this. We’re moving into territory that is only dubiously under Mudamorian control, so it’s best we be prepared.”

She stared at the weapon, the blade glinting wicked sharp in the sunlight. “No, thank you.”

He huffed out an annoyed breath. “It wasn’t a request. Obviously I’ll do the bulk of the fighting if it comes to it, but you need to be able to defend yourself.”

“A healer is supposed to give life, not take it,” she answered. “So I’ll run or I’ll hide. And if I have to fight back, I’ll do it with my fists, but not with a blade.”

Then, knowing she was in for an argument, she took several rapid steps to move ahead of him on the path. But Killian caught her arm, hauling her back to face him.

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he snapped. “I’ve known dozens of healers over the years who carried blades just in case they needed them, and not a one hesitated to slip it between a pair of ribs if the alternative was them dying.”

“I don’t care if every other healer on Reath carries a weapon, I’m not going to.”

“Then turn around and go back.”

She stared at him. “Why are you pushing this?”

“Because it’s hard enough to have you with me without knowing that you won’t do a bloody thing to defend yourself.” His hands balled into fists. “I should never have agreed to you coming at all.”

“It wasn’t your choice!” She was more upset than angry, because he wasn’t wrong. “And I’m not under your authority, so don’t even think of trying to give me orders.”

Killian scrubbed his wet hands back through his hair, glaring at her. “You’ve clearly taken leave of your senses.”

“Because I don’t want to kill people?” She crossed her arms under her breasts, digging her fingers into her sides. “How fortunate that I’m with you, then, Killian, because you have no compunction against it!”

He looked like she’d slapped him across the face, and guilt immediately welled up in her chest with the realization that she’d gone too far. Especially since she had no grounds to criticize. She opened her mouth to apologize, but in one swift motion, Killian pulled off her pack and scooped her up.

“What are you doing?” she shrieked at him but got her answer a heartbeat later when he tossed her into the stream.

She landed on her bottom, frigid water closing over her head. Scrambling to her feet, she gasped in a breath and then screamed, “You gods-damned entitled ass!” But he was already striding down the trail.

“Get back here!” she