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

she carried the wood Baird was chopping and set it at regularly spaced intervals around the perimeter while others worked to get them lit. And only when the last silvered rays of the sun disappeared into dusk did Killian reappear.

“All right, let’s get this done,” Agrippa said, digging into what remained of their supplies and extracting a medical kit. Killian pulled off his shirt and coat, and Lydia clenched her teeth at the sight of the wound, which was crusted with drying blood, more seeping out to run down his sides. She watched Agrippa like a hawk as he prepared, both grateful and annoyed when he did everything as he should.

“You sure you don’t want her doing this?” he asked, but Killian only gave a sharp shake of his head, lying down next to the fire.

“Need something to bite down on?”

“Quit stalling and get it done,” Killian snapped. “I’ve a bad feeling about tonight.”

Agrippa’s brow furrowed, and he glanced toward the dark woods through the smoke and steam of the fires. Then he set to cleaning the wound, focus entirely on his work.

Lydia’s hands balled into fists and she forced herself to look away, asking the children’s father, who was putting together dinner from what remained of the supplies, if he needed help. But all he said was, “You’ve done enough, Marked One. Rest by the fire.”

The camp, which had already felt too small, all of a sudden felt like a prison, and Lydia fought the urge to pace the perimeter like a caged animal in a circus fair. Sitting on a rock, she held her hands out to the flames, willing them to return to youth, hating this sudden loss of strength.

Was it being in Derin? Or was it her? The question circled her head as a plate of food was placed in her hand, as she mechanically spooned the tasteless porridge into her mouth. The life shed by those around her drifted toward her, the skin of her hands slowly smoothing, but she wanted it to happen faster.

Wanted to take it.

She recoiled from the thought right as Agrippa said, “I’d say try to take it easy, but there’s little chance of that.”

“Thank you.” Killian sat up, pulling his shirt over his head and accepting the plate handed to him, staring blindly into the fire as he shoved the food into his mouth.

Why are you acting like this? she wanted to scream, but it wasn’t a conversation that she could, or would, have with all these people listening in. She was torn between wanting to flee this situation and wanting to stay, between anger and distress, and why wasn’t her mark working?

Then there was a rustle in the trees. The sound of something, no, many somethings, circling the camp.

“Good evening, you little bastards!” Agrippa called. “You couldn’t wait to see me until after I finished eating?”

Uneasiness filled Lydia’s chest, and her eyes flicked to Killian. His spoon was halfway between the plate and his mouth, then slowly, he set both on the ground, his eyes fixed on the darkness.

Tension seeped off the group as they waited to see what the mimics would do. Who they would target.

What secrets they would reveal.

“What sort of father stays in a boat while his child is drowning?” the mother’s voice snarled. “What sort of father clings to safety while a stranger saves his little girl?”

The father in question turned to stare at his wife. “It wasn’t me,” she whispered. “I said not a word.”

“It’s the mimics.” Agrippa scowled. “Ignore them. And if you can’t ignore them, muffle your ears so you can’t hear them.”

“Coward!” the mimic shrieked. “You’ve always been a coward. Would that it had been you who’d drowned so I might find my children someone better. A real man. Like Agrippa.”

The father blanched even as Agrippa let out a belabored sigh. “Ignore them, you twit. They’re only trying to rile you up. And if it eases your mind, I’m really not interested.”

Except rather than being pacified, the man pointed a finger at the ex-legionnaire. “You said they took the thoughts from our minds—that they didn’t make things up.” Then he rounded on his wife. “Which means they might be saying it, but you’re the one thinking it.”

“I’m not!” Her eyes were wide. “They speak false!”

“I always knew you were unfaithful,” a mimic hissed in the father’s voice. “Ungrateful little chit—the only reason I married you was because you were pregnant, and this is how you repay me?”

The woman’s shock turned to fury. “I have never once even looked at another man, you pig! How dare you.”

In a heartbeat, the pair devolved into a shouting match, half their words from their lips and the other from the mimics until it became nearly impossible to tell who was saying what.

“Enough!” Agrippa shouted, stepping between them and pulling them apart. “Will you two calm yourselves?”

Another mimic added fuel to the fire, saying in Agrippa’s voice, “I had her half a dozen times before we left Deadground. And every time, we had a good laugh about you.”

“Why you little—” The father swung his fist at Agrippa, who caught his wrist and twisted, sending the other man face-first into the ground. But then the mother flung herself at him, screaming curses even as the mimics chattered in the voices of all three.

Killian and Baird dived into the fray, pulling everyone apart even as Lydia scrambled to the children. “They are all just upset,” she whispered, wrapping fabric around their heads to hold pads against their ears, the tears on their faces making her chest tighten. She pulled them against her so they couldn’t see, and only then looked up.

And saw the couple weren’t the only people the creatures were going after. The rest of the group were all standing at various points around the perimeter, eyes wide as they listened to whatever the mimics were saying, the noise of voices deafening.

Then one man stepped between a space in the fires.

“No!” she shouted, letting go of the