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

sleeve to wipe away the prior user’s lip marks, she drank the ale, feeling her body warm a few moments later.

The room was loud enough that she couldn’t talk to Killian without shouting, so instead, she listened to the conversations of the people next to them.

“I’m not staying here any longer,” the woman sitting next to her said to her companion. “I’m sick of being hungry and cold and idle.”

“You just ate,” the man replied sourly. “Quit complaining.”

“Yes, because Her Majesty deigned to send the vestiges of her army some supplies. But how long until they run out? And how long will she leave us without this time? I want to go home.”

“With what coin, woman? It’s ten pieces of gold each for an escort across the Liratoras.”

Lydia blinked at the amount, which was an outrageous sum, but Killian met her gaze and gave a slight shake of his head. Listen.

“We could head back into Mudamora and loot,” she suggested. “Find some dead lordling’s manor and figure out where he buried his gold and his wife’s jewels.”

The man snorted loudly, then spit on the floor. “Ain’t nothing left to loot and you know it. And the land’s thick with blight. Here, we might go hungry a day or two, but that’s a shade better than drinking foul water and then rising a walking corpse a few hours later.”

So those from Derin weren’t spared from the blight’s effects. Why was she not surprised?

Behind her, a gust of cold air blew in as someone opened the door, then a booming voice said, “Clear my table, you bastards.”

Seeing Killian’s eyes widen slightly, Lydia turned and looked up.

And up.

Behind her stood a giant, his ruddy head shaved, his colorless eyes unreadable as he watched those sitting with her and Killian clamber to their feet, moving off to find other seats. She started to rise, but the giant smiled. “Not you, lass. You can stay.”

“I can move,” she replied quickly, but he placed a massive hand on her shoulder, holding her in place.

“Keep your hands to yourself.” Killian didn’t speak loudly, but a sudden silence fell across the common room.

Almost immediately, the barkeep was at the table, his expression panicked. “They didn’t know this was your table.” Then he pushed at Killian’s shoulder. “You’ll find another bench if you know what’s good for you, lad.”

Killian didn’t move, but his eyes went back to her shoulder where the giant’s hand remained fixed, despite how she squirmed. “Let her go and we will gladly do so.”

“No.” The giant closed his other hand over her other shoulder. “She’s the prettiest girl in the place, so I want her to sit with me.”

Killian rose to his feet, eyes full of anger.

“You’re a daft fool,” the barkeep hissed. “She’s not worth picking a fight with a giant.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Already?” A new voice filled the silence. “Gods, Baird, could you at least wait until we’ve eaten before you start picking fights?”

A figure slipped down on the bench next to Lydia, and she turned her head to see a broad-shouldered young man around Killian’s age. He rested his elbows on the table and gave her a grin, his teeth white against golden-brown skin, tousled brown hair falling into his hazel eyes. He was exceptionally good looking and clearly knew it. “I’m Agrippa. The ugly giant who needs to sit his ass down”—he cast a pointed glance upward—“is Baird. You are…?”

Agrippa. A Cel name if she’d ever heard one. And while his darker complexion suggested one of the Empire’s provinces had contributed to his blood, the golden hue to it screamed Celendor. Realizing he was staring at her, waiting, she said, “Gertrude.”

“That’s a pretty name,” the giant said, finally removing his hands from her shoulders and sitting next to her, his knees barely fitting under the table. The bench creaked alarmingly.

“Well met, Gertrude.” Agrippa took a sip from Lydia’s cup, then he looked at Killian. “The only folk who sit at Baird’s table are girls with pretty names and those with coin to gamble. Since you’re clearly not the former, you’d best have the latter.”

Killian’s eyes darkened, but then he shrugged. “What’s your game?”

“Cards. Thank you, love,” Agrippa said to the woman who’d brought ale as well as bowls of stew. She kissed his cheek, and he handed her a silver coin with a wink. “And we don’t play for copper.”

The grin Killian gave was all teeth. “Neither do I.”

“Perfect,” Agrippa answered, then he began spooning the stew into his mouth, while Baird tossed the utensil he’d been given aside and drank directly from the bowl.

Lydia glanced surreptitiously down, her stomach clenching as she caught sight of the familiar hilt. It bore no legion marks but it was most definitely a gladius. Impossible, her mind kept telling her, except she knew it wasn’t. However he’d ended up in Derin, this young man was from the Empire, and she doubted he’d arrived on the Dark Shores via the stem in the baths in Celendrial, which meant there was another path. Part of her wanted to ask him, but that would mean revealing she wasn’t from Derin, and she wasn’t certain yet if that was a good idea.

Pushing aside his bowl, Agrippa extracted a deck of cards, shuffling them expertly. As he did, two women and a man joined, elbows resting on the table, stacks of silver piled in front of them.

“Blow on my cards, Gertrude,” Baird said. “I need a bit of luck.”

“She can see your hand, you idiot,” Agrippa muttered. “You’re going to lose all the coin we’ve earned for this jaunt across the Liratoras and we haven’t even made the trip yet.”

So there was xenthier leading here, but potentially not back. That explained why so many languished in this town despite the war being over.

Baird sighed, but pushed Lydia to her feet. “Go sit with your boy, lovely. When he loses all your coin, you can come back.” He grinned, revealing a gap where his two front teeth had once been.

The