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

to identify her. And while disposing of a body where no one would find it wouldn’t have been a challenge for Rufina, it struck Lydia as more the enemy queen’s style to have dropped the body in the middle of the army camp if for no other reason than to make a point.

“Her father’s men aren’t looking anymore.” Gwen’s voice was rough. “It’s too dangerous for small groups to remain out west, what with the blight. So wherever she is, only chance will ever see her found.”

Malahi had blackmailed her. Tried to turn her into a murderer. And yet Lydia wouldn’t have wished this fate upon anyone, much less a girl who above all things had desired the best for her people. “The gods have her in their care, now.”

Both Lena and Gwen made the sign of the Six against their chests, then Gwen picked up one of the books, flipping through it before tossing the volume back on the table. “So what’s the plan, oh Marked One.”

Rolling her eyes at the honorific, Lydia said, “I want you to find me people who are infected but not yet turned.”

“And then we’re to bring you to them? And if you don’t cure them and they become blighters, we’re just going to walk away?”

“Correct.”

“That seems … not smart.”

Lydia sighed. “There’s no helping it. Families won’t bring me the sick if they hear that we kill my failed experiments.”

“But they’re already dead,” Lena said. “Right? The blighters aren’t alive, that’s what we were told.”

Her tension had worked its way into a headache, and Lydia rubbed at the muscles of her neck, trying to relax them. “Only a healer can tell they are dead,” she explained. “To anyone else, they appeared wholly cured and themselves.”

Lena made a face. “I preferred when they looked dead. Made it a lot easier to kill them when they were a horde of monsters.”

“That’s probably why the blight evolved. Before, the blighters were a cudgel.” She swallowed hard. “Now they are a blade in the night.”

“Then I suppose we’d better get out there.” Lena looked down at her Falorn livery. “Probably better to wear something else.”

High Lady Falorn was beloved by the people, but given the current resentment toward the Marked, Lydia was inclined to agree. “Be careful,” she said. “And be back before dark.”

As soon as they departed, she got back to work on her organization of the library, piling mis-shelved books in front of their appropriate sections, stopping only when titles of interest caught her eye. There was so much information—an incredible wealth of knowledge, but the dearth of material on the Seventh god or the corrupted surprised her. They were mentioned in passing only, usually in reference to the impossibility of returning the life one of the corrupted had taken from a victim, as a healer could not reverse the passage of time or its impact on the body. Of the blight, or anything like it, there was nothing.

Hours later, a knock sounded on the door to the library. It opened, and High Lady Falorn stepped inside.

Lydia stood, her back and knees cracking loudly. Dareena laughed. “Gets worse with age, but I suppose you are already familiar with the sensation.”

“Deeply familiar,” Lydia answered. “But advancing age is better than the alternative.”

“The Six know, succumbing to old age likely isn’t something someone like me has to look forward to,” the High Lady answered, motioning for her to sit back down. “Dying young is a hazard of Tremon’s mark.”

It was impossible not to stiffen, and Dareena’s expression softened.

“The greatest danger to Killian is Killian,” the High Lady said. “But I suspect you know that.”

Lydia did; but knowing that she wouldn’t be there to put him back together made her ill. “Did you have any luck with the King?”

“Quindor and I both pressed Serrick to move the Royal Army to Abenharrow, but he refuses. He sees Mudaire as the front lines of our ongoing war with the Corrupter, and he believes this is where Mudamora’s military might must focus its efforts. He’s going to increase the number of patrols hunting for blighters.”

“There’s no point in having more patrols. Not without more healers to identify the infected.”

“Which is why he’s recalled all who remain, though it will take time for them to reach Mudaire.”

As though Lydia needed more pressure. Once additional healers arrived and the patrols to hunt the infected increased in earnest, she’d lose her chance to try to treat those in the early stage of infection, because Lydia had no doubt in her mind that they’d kill them, too. “He’s a fool.”

Dareena made a face. “Others are warning him that if we don’t keep the blighters in check, they’ll grow enough in numbers to be a real threat. Which isn’t faulty advice. Serrick’s between a rock and a hard place.”

“Who is giving this advice?” Lydia asked the question despite having a good idea who it must be.

“Cyntha.”

“How is she any more equipped to give advice about the army than I am?” Lydia demanded. “She’s a healer, not a soldier.”

“She’s both. Or was, at any rate.” Rotating her chair around, Dareena straddled it, chin resting on the back. “She was born to a minor noble family in Axbridge and grew up in the company of my brother, which allowed her to receive the best military training there was to be had. After she was marked, Cyntha only did cursory training at the temple before returning to be Derrek’s personal healer and bodyguard. They were … close.”

“So you know her well?”

Dareena shook her head, green eyes distant. “My brother was fifteen years older than I was. Our father passed when I was only four, and after he was crowned king, Derrek spent most of his time in Mudaire, Cyntha with him. They parted ways on poor terms after he was married, and I only saw her a handful of times until she joined Serrick’s household. She’s … a hard woman. But not without reason.”

Lydia was curious to know the reason, but asking the