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

Then a blow caught him between the shoulders, sending him sprawling.

“I said on the ground!” A deep voice sounded from behind him, and a foot came down hard between Marcus’s shoulders, pressing him into the mud. Lifting his face, he searched for Teriana, relief flooding him as he caught sight of her beneath a wagon, hiding with the little girls.

“Now what do we have going on here?”

A voice speaking in clear Sibernese cut through the night, and Marcus turned his face to watch a legionnaire stride into the center of the village square. A centurion was his best guess, though the men wore heavy garments that covered their armor. He wracked his brain, trying to recall which legion was stationed in western Sibern.

Not that it mattered.

The centurion pulled back his hood, revealing the face of a man in his late thirties with ivory skin and bright red hair. Sibernese by birth, though Lescendor and decades of service had likely stripped him of any loyalties he had to the province and its people. Even so, Marcus grimaced, knowing that the choice to send someone of the same blood as these villagers to lay down the law had been purposeful.

“Varro!” the centurion called out. “Remind me, what hour does curfew begin?”

“Fourth hour, sir!” one of the men called back. “Sundown.”

“And what hour is it now?”

“Near on midnight, I’d say, sir.”

“Midnight.” The centurion circled the bonfire. “I relaxed the rules for you lot, I’ll have you know. Tarried, so that our arrival would come late, giving you some few hours to celebrate the end of the season. My gift to the people of this village.”

Pausing, the man tossed another log on the fire. “Not in my wildest dreams did I think to arrive at midnight to find you fools still flaunting the Empire’s order. Spitting in the face of my generosity.”

Marcus scowled, knowing that the centurion had waited until it was late enough that the villagers had believed there no chance of a patrol showing up. Had waited until the villagers had drawn in those tasked with keeping watch before approaching. That they’d orchestrated this moment so as to catch as many individuals in violation of curfew as possible. Individuals who would now have to pay the fine. He shifted, but the legionnaire with his foot on Marcus’s back only ground his heel down harder.

Fury rose in his chest. He could have the bastard whipped within an inch of his life for this. If they knew who he was—

“And it need not be like this!” the centurion shouted. “You could have your freedoms and your festivals and your fun if only you’d just fucking abide!” He screamed the last few words, and several of the people around Marcus began to cry, their faces full of terror.

The centurion bent low over a prone man. “Pay your taxes!” Then he rounded on a woman. “Tithe your second-born boys!” Straightening, he circled around the bonfire again. “Live by the same laws as everyone else in the Empire, and all will be well in your lives.”

He paused only a few feet from Marcus. “Would that I could forgive your actions tonight, but alas, I am charged with maintaining the law, so it is to me you will pay the cost of your transgressions.” He lifted a hand in signal. “Varro, line them up. Take the names of any without the coin and explain they are now in debt to the Empire and will be charged interest until they pay their fine.”

“Yes, sir. And the children?”

The Sibernese centurion tilted his head from side to side. “I am feeling benevolent. Allow the children to return to their homes.”

“Get up!” A hand caught Marcus by the belt, hauling him to his feet, and Marcus found himself face-to-face with a grizzled legionnaire, a long scar bisecting an empty eye socket. The man’s brow furrowed. “You a citizen, boy?”

“Yes,” Marcus said from between his teeth, wiping mud from his face. “I am.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” The legionnaire brushed mud off Marcus’s back. “Don’t see too many citizens this far north at this time of the year. What’s your business?”

“My father believes the Sibernese are withholding choice fur from Celendrial’s markets,” Marcus lied. “He sent me to purchase from the source.”

“Smart man.” The legionnaire slung an arm around Marcus’s shoulders. “We’ve got a citizen here, lads. I’ll get him settled before we carry on with business.”

Shit. How was he supposed to get Teriana back to the inn with this bastard at his elbow? Marcus glanced toward the wagon where she’d been hiding, intending to signal at her to stay put.

But Teriana was gone.

His pulse roared, panic rising in his chest as he searched the shadows for any sign of her, but she and the children had disappeared. What he did see was the eyes of those he’d been celebrating with moments before, all of them fixed upon him. They’d shared their food and drink and hospitality with him, yet while he’d broken the same law as they had, his blood ensured he’d never pay a fine for it.

“You didn’t get this far north without discovering the Sibernese were under curfew. While you are exempt from the restrictions, you’d be wise to abide by them anyway,” the legionnaire said. “Get caught up in a scrap and you might find yourself on the wrong end of a gladius, Cel or not. Get my meaning?”

“Wise advice.” And because Marcus knew how these men thought, he added, “The alcohol and pretty girls got in the way of my good sense.”

The big man laughed and slapped Marcus on the back hard enough that he staggered. “Can’t fault you that. But next time, coax the bottle and the girl up to your room before sunset. Here we are.”

They’d reached the inn, and the legionnaire pulled open the door, gesturing for Marcus to enter. “My apologies again, citizen. And good fortune with the rest of your business in Sibern.”

“Gratitude.” Marcus gave the man a smile, then