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

you have something helpful to add. Because I assure you, choosing to travel an unmapped stem into the depths of Sibern is something only an idiot or a madman would do. And I am neither.”

“You overstep.” His brother’s face purpled as he turned on their father. “Are you truly going to stand there and allow him to speak to me in such a crass and offensive manner?”

“Oh, be silent,” their mother snapped. “Or if you cannot, take this”—she shoved a bottle of wine into his hand—“and go complain to the flowers in the garden. Perhaps they will care about your petty jealousy.”

Gaius glowered, but remained silent and took his seat.

“How was it that you crossed with just the Maarin girl?” Cordelia asked, her brow furrowed.

“We were separated from my men by hostiles,” he answered. “We took refuge in some ruins, and the floor collapsed, revealing the xenthier. It was either die by their hands or risk the path.”

“Ah,” she replied, but the furrow in her brow remained as though she knew he wasn’t giving the whole of the story.

“But that is irrelevant,” he added. “What’s done is done. All that matters now is what Cassius is going to do with this victory, which he is sure to claim as his own. And how he’s going to use this family to hold on to his consulship.”

“He’ll push us to campaign for him, there is no doubt of that,” his father answered. “And for the coin to fund it. I wouldn’t put it past him to bankrupt us in pursuit of his goals, knowing full well that we are in no position to deny him the funds.”

“I’d say it’s better to be broke than to hang from the gallows, but you would handle destitution very poorly, Father,” Cordelia said, shifting on the couch. “For your own sake, you might grow a pair and stand your ground against him.”

“Cordelia!” their mother snapped, but his sister only ignored her.

“Marcus is Celendor’s golden boy,” she continued. “He is making Cassius look very good, and if Cassius reveals that you broke the laws of the child tithes, it won’t only be Father and Gaius who swing, it will be Marcus, too. I don’t think he’ll risk it.”

Marcus wished he had her confidence. “I’m replaceable, Cordelia. With Titus, who, I’ll remind you, is Cassius’s son. Or if he can’t get the Senate to agree to it, then one of the many other men who have the same training and skills as I do.” He turned to his father. “My advice is to do what he asks.”

“No matter the consequences?” Cordelia demanded. “He’s a tyrant, and if you think he doesn’t have grander ambitions than two terms as consul, you are an idiot.”

“Ambition or not, the law limits him.”

Tiberius cleared his throat. “Laws can be changed. Already he’s amended those related to the child tithes to the legions. In a year, families will either have to pay or give up fourth sons as well. The coin is nothing to those who have it, but those without means will lose another child.”

Marcus’s chest tightened, the hate that had been directed at him by the citizens becoming all too understandable.

“And his argument for the need of expanding the legions has only been strengthened by your return,” Tiberius continued. “As soon as a path—one more viable than that to Sibern—is discovered, he will send more legions through without delay. To make a name for himself and to secure the wealth that Maarin ledgers show the Dark Shores has.”

“There are limits,” his father argued. “You make him sound as though he aims for the power of an emperor, which the Senate will never grant. Celendor rid itself of such a position for a reason.”

“And yet what are we but an empire without an emperor?” Cordelia said. “I think that’s exactly how Cassius envisions himself.”

“You’re being emotional, Cordelia, which is no wonder, given your condition,” their father said. “You are caught up on semantics and speak of that which you don’t understand.”

“Half of Celendor’s power rests on the strength of semantics,” Cordelia retorted. “And unlike you, I see clearly and without fear for my own neck.”

“Exactly!” Gaius rose. “Easy for you and Tiberius to stand on principal when neither of you risk being sent to hang.”

“Even if our lives were on the line, it would change nothing.” She rose to meet him. “You’re a coward.”

Gaius lifted a hand to slap her and Marcus moved to grab it, but Tiberius had already stepped in front of his wife. “Enough. This quarrelling yields no dividends. Let us turn our heads to how we might mitigate Cassius’s control over us without catastrophic consequences.”

“If you mean, can we assassinate him and solve our woes, the answer is likely no.” Marcus drained the rest of his water. “He’s too clever not to have contingencies in play to make us pay if we move against him. Otherwise, I’d have slit his throat while he slept.”

Rather than the brutality shocking them, their faces only registered disappointment it wasn’t an option.

“He holds all the cards in the game between us,” Marcus continued. “And even if he did lose the consulship, he would not lose his ability to play them. So make your choice: accommodate him or live with the consequences of crossing him. This conversation is a waste of breath.”

“I take it you’ve made your choice?” Cordelia asked.

He surveyed them, these people whose blood he shared. Whose lives he’d protected, though they hadn’t given him the same courtesy. They were sly and conniving and ambitious—Cel patricians to the core—but he’d known that even as he’d backed a tyrant in order to keep them safe.

Why?

They didn’t deserve it, not really. Their lives weren’t worth more than those who’d suffer and die as the result of Cassius being in power. And part of him wondered if Gaius hadn’t seen to the heart of it in that he’d had something to prove. “I made my decision a long time ago,” he said. “Do what