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

Serrick waved a dismissive hand. “Plans change. I’ve sent my niece Ria instructions on how to manage the situation in Rotahn, as well as the resources she needs to see it done. My place is in Mudaire, for this is where the true enemy resides, lurking behind the faces of my subjects. It must be expunged.”

Hunted down. Killed. Murdered.

Burned.

“With respect, Your Majesty,” Lydia said, “we should be dedicating our time to finding a cure for those who have been poisoned with blight, because trying to erase it by killing those who have succumbed is a battle we won’t win.”

One of Serrick’s eyebrows rose. “I understand Hegeria’s temple does not have adequate numbers of soldiers to hunt the blighters, Marked One. That is why I have brought the Royal Army to Mudaire.”

“All that will accomplish is more infections,” she argued. “Except it won’t be infected civilians, but rather trained fighting men. You need to—”

“Be silent, girl,” Quindor snapped. “You overstep.”

“She’s earned the right to speak.” The King gestured to Lydia. “Continue.”

All eyes were on her, and Lydia’s palms turned clammy. “You need to withdraw all except those required to enforce a perimeter around the city. And instead of hunting those who are infected, we need to focus our effort on finding a cure.”

Cyntha huffed out a loud breath. “They’re dead, you silly little girl. They can’t be healed. And if we don’t hunt them, how long until the entire city is full of them and your perimeter is overrun?”

“They don’t die the second they’re exposed to the blight,” Lydia snapped, then clenched her teeth, knowing she needed to mind her tone. “There are several painful hours between the moment of exposure and the moment they succumb, which means there are several hours within which they could be healed, if we could figure out how. But no one is going to come to us for help if they believe we’ll just kill them and be done with it.”

Quindor said, “I tried to heal the late Princess’s horse when it was infected. And likewise, I tried to save High Lord Torrington when he became infected drinking contaminated wine.” He shook his head. “Doing so nearly killed me. It can’t be done. Heartbreaking as it is, putting the infected down is the only solution—and a mercy, because it prevents the Corrupter from using their bodies for evil. And of course, once they are dead, they are lost to us. One cannot heal death.”

“Just because it’s not a simple solution doesn’t mean—”

“I agree with the Grand Master, Your Majesty,” Cyntha interrupted. “The girl is young, inexperienced, and—”

“Compassionate,” the King said. “As one of Hegeria’s Marked should be. Your many years may have given you wisdom and experience, Cyntha, but they’ve jaded you as well.”

Cyntha’s eyes flared, her fingers curling into fists. And out of the corner of her eye, Lydia saw High Lady Falorn’s hand close over the hilt of her sword.

“I do not like consigning Mudamorians to death. For that reason, if no other, I see merit in what Lydia suggests.”

“Your Grace,” Quindor protested. “Already we have too few resources. I understand the allure of Lydia’s proposal, but to pull healers from the hunt for the sake of pursuing this task could have catastrophic results.”

Serrick held up his hands, making soothing gestures at Quindor. “At ease, Grand Master. I understand the predicament. Which is why Lydia will undertake the research herself.”

Herself? It wasn’t the amount of work that troubled her, or even the danger, but rather that there were others who knew so much more than she did. What chance did she have of coming up with a solution on her own?

“It’s not safe,” Quindor said between his teeth. “What if one of the infected kills her? Or one of their family members? I’d ask that you reconsider, Your Grace.”

Silence fell across the room, the tension so thick that Lydia could scarcely breathe. Then King Serrick said, “The gods themselves ordained that I should lead Mudamora’s Marked to best serve their ends.”

Lydia’s skin crawled, but there was nothing else to do but to nod.

“I think it best you get underway, Marked One,” the King said. “I expect regular updates on your progress.”

Despite knowing she was pushing her luck, Lydia asked, “What of withdrawing the majority of the Royal Army and quarantining the city?”

“I shall think on it,” he answered. “And speak with my commanders. But military matters are neither your expertise nor your concern. Lydia, you may go. Quindor, remain.”

Lydia bowed again, then backed away three steps before turning, it taking all her self-control not to run from the room. Vaguely, she heard a woman say, “Excuse me a moment, Your Grace—I need to piss,” but the words went in one of Lydia’s ears and out the other, her mind all for her own problems.

What had she gotten herself into? And how in the name of the Six was she supposed to accomplish anything meaningful on her own? And would any of it even matter if the Royal Army succumbed?

What she needed to do was find Killian. He’d listen, and he’d have the power to sway the King in a way that she didn’t. She started toward the entrance to the palace, intent on seeking him out in the army camp on the grounds, but then a female voice caught her attention.

“He’s not here.”

Whirling around, Lydia found herself face-to-face with High Lady Falorn. “I…”

“You’re looking for Killian, I know.” She caught Lydia by the arm and towed her up the stairs instead of toward the door. “You think he’ll take you seriously where Serrick did not, which is probably true. Unfortunately, he’s on his way to Rotahn with a portion of the Royal Army. So you’ll have to make do with me.”

Killian isn’t here. Disappointment hollowed out her insides, and Lydia bit her bottom lip hard in an effort to maintain her composure. Not only wasn’t he here, he was on his