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

His breath misted as he followed the trail down toward the forest, catching sight of a bird flying in the trees, though that was likely a lost cause. He searched for signs of tracks, for signs of any life at all, but the snow was pristine and untouched. And other than the trees, all the plants were dead. Many of his men probably knew what could be foraged, but he’d been busy learning military strategies and how to kiss the asses of senators while the Thirty-Seventh had been learning to survive anywhere the Senate sent them.

And he’d left Teriana alone long enough. Gathering wood as he walked, he returned to the cave, checked on Teriana, then bolstered the fire.

They weren’t far from the edges of civilization. He might be able to walk the distance without food, but there was no chance of Teriana walking anywhere for at least a day. Even if he built something to carry her, drained as she was, he wasn’t sure if she’d be able to survive nights out in the open air. But there was no other choice.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, Marcus saw something move.

He turned his head in time to see a mouse scurrying across the cave, and he lunged for the creature.

But it was much too quick.

Pulling a burning twig from the fire, he circled the small space, seeing the cracks and holes that allowed the animals entrance, along with enough droppings to suggest the mouse wasn’t alone. They rarely were.

All he needed to do was catch them.

Marcus gathered the supplies he needed and set up the traps, the knowledge of how to do so a relic from his training or a book, he couldn’t recall which. After carefully baiting the trap with some jerky crumbs, he moved to the far side of the fire to sit next to Teriana.

Hours passed, and he must have dozed off, but then a loud bang jerked him awake.

Crawling over to the block of wood, he lifted it, grinning at the sight of the dead mouse. “Let’s hope you have a large family,” he said, picking it up by the tail. And then he rigged the trap once more.

 70KILLIAN

Lydia was nothing like Rufina. She was brave and selfless and kind, and he hated that she felt otherwise. Hated that the Corrupter had gotten his claws into her, even if it had been just for a moment. And it also made him wonder how many other of the Marked had slipped briefly into darkness.

Whether he had himself?

And in asking the question, Killian knew that it was so. That there had been moments where he’d been so consumed by anger that he’d used the strength that Tremon had given him not to protect those he cared about, but to harm. Vividly, he remembered how he’d attacked Hacken in the tunnels the night of the ball. How he’d wanted to hurt his brother as much as his brother had hurt him. How if Sonia hadn’t intervened, he might have killed his own flesh and blood. But instead of telling Lydia that, he said, “My first horse wasn’t a horse. It was a pony.”

“Pardon?”

It was the first thing he’d said to her since they’d started out that morning, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see her staring at him in confusion.

“Before,” he clarified. “You asked about my family’s horses and if I remembered my first horse. It was a pony. Named Pom Pom.”

“Pom Pom?” The first smile he’d seen in a long time lit her face. “You had a pony named Pom Pom?”

“That’s right.” Holding out a hand, he helped her over a fallen log, then turned his gaze back north. “And she was the nastiest, vilest-tempered beast I have ever owned. Bucked me off more times than all my other horses combined. My warhorse is a kitten by comparison.”

“Your warhorse bites,” she said.

“Threatens to bite,” he corrected. “Pom Pom actually bit. Constantly and without provocation. She also kicked anything that dared to walk behind her, and despite being only three feet tall, she also was prone to trampling anything and anyone that got in her way, including me.”

“And why, given that you apparently own a few thousand head of horses,” she lowered her voice, clearly imitating him, “would your parents allow their child to be around such a beast?”

“It was my mother’s doing. For all she’s been a Calorian for twenty-seven years, I’ve only seen her actually ride a handful of times. My theory is that she dislikes ceding any control over where she’s going, but she’d probably box my ears for saying so. Regardless, she was of the mistaken belief that being closer to the ground would make me safer, so when I demanded a mount, she insisted my father procure the smallest pony he could come by. Enter Pom Pom.”

“I should think she’d have learned sooner with you having two older brothers.”

“They got proper horses as their first mounts. Small, of course, but horses nonetheless.”

She frowned. “What made you different?”

“My father said she was always more protective of me.” He shrugged. “Seems silly, in hindsight. But anyway, by the time she realized her error, I was so deeply enamored with Pom Pom that I refused to give her up. When they tried to take her, I ran away with her and my sword. My father finally tracked me down at a farmhouse a few miles away, me having convinced the family living there that I was an orphan in need of care.”

A laugh exited her lips, and it was all Killian could do not to lean down and kiss her. Looking away, he continued, “It apparently became quite a pattern for me. Every time my parents did something that made me cross, Pom Pom and I would gallop off down the road, roving farther afield each time in search of a family to take me in. Of course, everyone knew who I was, and word would be sent immediately to