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

As though to confirm his point, one of the corrupted passed in front of them, the sickeningly bright glow of life around him telling Lydia he’d recently used his mark. Had probably killed with his mark, and she highly doubted there were consequences.

“Rufina isn’t the first of them to style herself as queen,” Baird added. “But she’s the most ambitious in generations. The first to cast her eyes outside the border with a mind for conquest, though it was the knowledge she took from Agrippa that saw it come to fruition. The Celendor Empire fascinates her in its reach and dominance, and she’s using its strategies.”

Even as the Empire did the same on the Southern Continent.

“Enough chatter,” the giant muttered. “Keep your head down and look servant-like, all right?”

Lydia lowered her head, but her eyes flicked forward as they rounded a bend and Rufina’s fortress came into view. The black rock seemed to grow from the lake itself, the only way to reach its gate a narrow bridge that rose high above the water. The battlements were patrolled by armed soldiers, and she noted several catapults trained at the city.

She followed Baird onto the bridge, the only sound the flap of banners bearing the burning circle of the Seventh. The men guarding the gates allowed the giant to pass uncontested, all of them saluting as he passed.

“The general just came through with a prisoner,” one of the soldiers said. “You know anything about that?”

Which meant Killian was with Rufina now. In chains and entirely helpless. Bile rose in Lydia’s throat, and she swallowed hard, fighting to keep her terror in check.

“What?” Baird bellowed. “The little shit was supposed to wait. Bet my last coin he’s taking all the credit. And all the gods-damned reward.”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Not your business. Come on, you.” Baird pulled on Lydia’s arm and led her inside the fortress. “This way.”

They ascended a polished set of onyx stairs that split halfway up, Baird going left, his boots making heavy thuds that echoed the beat of Lydia’s heart. They needed to hurry.

Sconces illuminated the corridor, the air thick with the scent of burning oil, the chill of the building at odds with the temperature outside: cold enough that mist formed with her every breath.

Ahead, she caught sight of two soldiers standing to either side of a doorway, and her pulse leapt into a gallop. Both saluted Baird, but neither moved from the door

“Her Majesty wants the girl cleaned up,” Baird said. “Has a special sort of pain planned for her.”

“This is the first we’ve heard of it,” the soldier said. “We’re under orders that no one goes in or out without Her Majesty’s express permission. We’ll need to confirm.”

Baird shrugged. “The general’s just brought her Killian Calorian in chains, but by all means, please do go interrupt the moment. I’m sure she’ll handle that well. Our queen is known for her even temper.”

The soldiers exchanged glances, then one said, “Agrippa caught Calorian? How’d he manage that feat?”

“By being smarter than you two knuckleheads. Now let this one in so she can do her job.”

All of this rested upon the giant’s authority and credibility. If they didn’t trust that he was telling the truth, this entire plan was going to go straight to the underworld for all involved.

The soldiers shifted, then one shrugged. “You’ll stay with her?”

“Obviously,” Baird replied. “I saw her in Deadground. She’s a looker.”

“Was,” the soldier answered, taking a key from his belt. “But not anymore.”

Dread filled Lydia’s stomach as he unlocked the heavy door, and she took a deep breath, gripping the pile of clothing she carried. You can fix her. Whatever Rufina has done to her, you can fix it.

Even as the thought trailed through her head, Lydia knew she was lying to herself.

The door swung inward, Baird going inside first, but as Lydia followed, her eyes went immediately to the small form sitting on a bench. The light rendered the individual as nothing more than a dark shadow.

But she’d recognize the rightful Queen of Mudamora anywhere.

The door thudded shut behind her, and giving a quick glance to ensure that the soldiers hadn’t followed them in, Lydia took a deep breath and said, “Malahi?”

The figure didn’t answer. Didn’t so much as move.

Lydia met Baird’s gaze, and he mouthed, We don’t have much time.

“Malahi? It’s Lydia. We’re here to get you free of this place, but I need you to listen to me.”

The figure twitched, then a rasping voice whispered, “Why should I listen to the girl who is to blame for me being here in the first place?”

Swallowing hard, Lydia stepped forward, setting the clothing on a table before moving around the side of the bench. Even with the warning from the guards outside, it still took all her self-control not to gasp at what she saw.

Despite the frigid air, Malahi wore only a rough shift, and her sand-colored skin held an alarming blue cast from the cold. They’d cut her long blond hair into a ragged mop, but there were bald patches where it appeared to have been torn from her scalp. And her face …

It was crossed with a livid red wound that stretched from her hairline to her chin, the black stitches holding it together sloppily done. Her arms and throat were crisscrossed with claw marks and burns, and her fingers were raw where the nails had been torn from their beds. Lydia could barely stomach imagining the pain Malahi had endured. And would continue to endure every time she looked in the mirror.

Sunken amber eyes met hers. “She wanted me to steal the life from Mudamora. I refused. She did this to me—” Malahi rose in a sudden movement, her face inches from Lydia’s. “I still refused.”

Lydia flinched at the accusation, but there was little she could say in her own defense. “Killian’s here—”

“Given you’re here, that’s no surprise.”

Anger flared in her chest, but Lydia left it simmering, knowing she’d need