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

Didn’t want to lose her. Didn’t want to go back to being the Empire’s weapon for many reasons, but one of the biggest was that he knew one day it would mean meeting her across the battlefield.

But what was the alternative? If he didn’t go to Cassius and the Senate with the locations of the xenthier paths, Teriana’s mother and people would remain imprisoned. And the Thirty-Seventh would remain under Titus’s control believing he was a deserter. Which he would be, having abandoned his brothers. Having abandoned Felix with those last toxic words.

Have you ever wondered what you might achieve if you fought for something you believed in?

Teriana’s question floated through his mind for the thousandth time. A thought that he’d never allowed himself to have and never could, because the moment he stepped out of line and crossed Cassius, the consul would reveal Marcus’s secret. That he was firstborn, not second. That his father had sent him in his brother’s place because he wanted to keep his healthy son as heir and in doing so had broken one of the Empire’s most sacrosanct laws. He, his father, and his brother would be hanged in the Forum, his mother stripped of even the clothes on her back and sent into exile, his younger sisters along with her. Cordelia’s husband would be encouraged to cast her aside, which would mean her children would be taken from her forever. He couldn’t do that to her. Wouldn’t let her be hurt in that way.

Unbidden, another girl’s words filled his head: Which sort of man are you, Legatus? The sort who desires to save the world? Or to save himself? The voice of the girl he’d murdered to protect both his families.

And to protect himself.

How much worse would he have to do? How much further would he have to go?

His head was a throbbing mess of pain, his breath coming too fast. Shifting Teriana off his chest, Marcus sat up and moved to the edge of the boat. Eased carefully off it, the water cold against his overheated skin.

Reaching the bank, he stumbled up it, already gasping for breath, panic setting in. He fell to his knees, forehead pressed against the rocks and mud, feeling his throat close. Feeling the darkness take over, pulling him down and down, tears soaking his cheeks because he knew someone like him wouldn’t be granted such an easy end.

And that when he woke, exhausted and aching and ill, the decision would remain.

 90KILLIAN

Ambush.

His skin had started crawling the moment they’d entered the clearing, but he’d thought it would be Agrippa who’d make the move. Or Baird.

Instead, a group of armed men, one of which he recognized from the village alehouse, stepped out of the surrounding brush. They had bows, but instead of shooting, the men all pulled their swords, obviously heeding Agrippa’s words.

Good. Their greed would be their downfall.

“You can make this easy. Or you can make this hard, Calorian,” one of them said. “Put down your weapons and we’ll let the girl go unharmed.”

“Lydia,” he said softly.

“Yes.” There was fear in her voice.

“Run.”

For once, she didn’t argue, hauling up her skirts and bolting toward the trees even as he threw himself at the men, meeting the front-runner with a clash of steel. The man met his blows twice, then Killian got past his guard and stabbed him in the chest, whirling as he extracted his bloody blade and throwing a knife at one of the other soldiers.

One of the attackers raced after Lydia, but Killian dived forward, hamstringing him and then leaving the man to scream while he engaged with the others.

They came at him three at a time, forcing him to rely on speed to dodge their blows.

One of them caught him across the forearm with the tip of his weapon. Killian ground his teeth against the pain, gutting the man and then shoving him into his fellows while he backtracked to gain better ground.

Across the clearing, Agrippa had his weapon in hand, face expressionless as he watched the fight. Where Baird was, Killian didn’t know.

He’d deal with them both later.

Dancing around a swipe of a sword, Killian punched the man in the face, then twisted to block a downward strike of a blade. But another soldier lunged into the mix, forcing him to drop and roll or take the weapon in the gut.

On his feet in a flash, Killian threw a knife, striking a soldier in the face as he rushed toward him, but they were coming at him from all sides. Blood ran down his hand, slickening his grip as he engaged with one, the man’s face determined as he parried every one of Killian’s blows, not good enough to win, but good enough to distract while his fellows attacked from the rear.

Killian sensed the blow coming and ducked, a blade whistling over his head. He turned and stabbed the soldier in the leg, but another only took his place.

There were too many of them.

Cursing, Killian stumbled back, his eyes on the men warily stepping over the bodies of the fallen even as he heard the footfalls of those circling around.

“Gods-damn it!” Agrippa swore from across the clearing, and then he was racing toward the fight, weapon raised. He carved into the back of one of the men, twisting to stab another in the guts, and Killian didn’t stop to question what the Cel bastard was doing.

Instead, he lost himself in the fight.

Blood splattered and men screamed, dying under the onslaught of steel. They held their ground for a time, then Killian felt the balance shift, and two of the attackers bolted.

Picking up a fallen sword, Killian flung it, taking one of them in the back, and chased the other at a dead sprint. Sensing he was about to be caught, the man whirled, raising his sword. But Killian’s downward strike sheared through the blade. The man screamed, and fell, pleading for mercy.

Killian cut off his head. And then he turned.

Agrippa was resting with one