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

as shiny as the worn leather would allow and a stiff new pair awaiting Finn. But while Finn’s garments were a practical dark brown, Killian’s were Calorian indigo with an abundance of white embroidery, and it was all he could do not to make a face. But there was no helping it. Dinner would be when the Rowenes clan discussed strategy, and he needed to be there.

Waving away the attendant, he pulled on the clothes, which were fashionably—and irritatingly—tight, then his boots and weapons, before scowling at the mirror.

Finn snickered. “If we hang you from the battlements, you’d serve as a banner proclaiming the presence of glorious House Calorian.”

“I’m taking back your horse. You can walk from now on.”

Finn only laughed harder before elbowing Killian out of the way to look in the mirror, smoothing back his wild head of curls, which only sprang upward again. “Shall we?”

They stepped out into the cool corridor, and Killian walked toward the atrium where Sonia sat reading a book, an artfully arranged stack sitting on one of the tables next to her. Before they reached her, Finn said softly, “I wish you’d quit treating me like a child.”

Killian’s jaw tightened. “You’re only fourteen.”

“How old were you when you got your first sword?”

High Lord Calorian had put a practice sword in Killian’s hand almost before he could walk. He’d had a proper weapon before he could read. Had been dueling by the time he was seven. A thousand excuses rose in Killian’s head for why his circumstances were different, but they sounded hollow in his mind because none were the reason he didn’t want to concede on this. “Fine.”

Finn’s eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Killian added, “But not until Sonia deems you competent enough with a practice blade that I don’t need to worry about you cutting off pieces of yourself.”

The brightness faded from his friend’s eyes, and irritation flickered through Killian. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ll speak to the Rowenes armorer and see if he has something that will suit, but you don’t get to swing it until Sonia gives her blessing.”

“Thank you.” Finn’s voice was clipped. “The boy with the towels told me that I could eat with them. So unless there’s something you need from me…?”

“No.” Killian felt suddenly weary, the heat from the wine he’d downed having vanished from his veins. “Go find them.”

As Finn trotted off down the corridor, he turned to Sonia, who was eyeing him thoughtfully. Instead of her usual attire of trousers and shirts, she wore a bright pink-and-gold dress cut in Gamdeshian style, golden combs holding back her short curls, glittering jewels running up the sides of her earlobes. Several gold bracelets gleamed against her russet skin, and wide gold cuffs wrapped around the defined muscles of her arms. She was undeniably beautiful, but she was also one of his lieutenants, so he only said, “They gave you everything you needed?”

She nodded. “Your brother and sister-in-law were here, recently. Lady Adra had this commissioned, but it wasn’t finished before they departed. And your brother…” She inclined a head to Killian’s garments, and he cast his eyes skyward, the clothes making abrupt sense.

His middle brother, Seldrid, was notoriously flamboyant in his attire, and he was equally notorious for never wearing the same clothes twice. He left a trail of flashy coats and overly tight trousers everywhere he went, and this was probably the most muted of whatever he’d left behind in the Rowenes palace. Killian made a note to visit the bankers in Rotahn to withdraw enough funds to pay for new clothes or he’d spend every visit here looking like he belonged in a circus troupe.

Offering Sonia his arm, he led her through the palace, heading in the direction of the main dining room.

“It’s not about the sword, you know,” she said, smiling at the servants that curtsied and bowed as they passed. “Just like it wasn’t about having his own horse.”

“Then what is it about?”

She muttered something in Gamdeshian under her breath that he was fairly certain translated into, “Why are men so dense?” then said, “They are attempts to spend time with you.”

Killian snorted. “He’s with me all day, every day. He’s just mad that I won’t give it to him now. Except that as soon as I do, he’ll only want something else.”

“I am going to choose to believe the healer didn’t do a fulsome job fixing your cracked skull at Alder’s Ford, because that’s preferable to the alternative!” she snapped. “Your body is with us, but your mind is not. When was the last time you had a conversation with him that wasn’t limited to one-word answers and grunts on your part?”

“I’ve—”

“Been thinking only of yourself,” she interrupted, pausing in her diatribe to nod at a servant. “Finn lost everything when Derin invaded. His father is dead, what family he has wants nothing to do with him, and all he owns are the ratty clothes the servants are probably burning as we speak. You are all that he has—the only constant, the only person who cares whether he lives or dies, and yet you are behaving as though you barely see him.”

“That’s not true,” he snapped back. “I do care. That’s why—”

“You’re pushing him away,” she said, clearly unwilling to allow him to finish a sentence. “Because you’re afraid of him getting hurt. Of losing him, as you have lost others. But fear is the Corrupter’s greatest power, and when you let it make your decisions for you, he wins.”

There was no chance to retort, because they’d reached the entrance to the dining room, the doors swinging open and a servant loudly announcing their titles, Sonia possessed of a few he hadn’t known about.

Ria mercifully hadn’t arrived yet, but the rest of the Rowenes clan was in full attendance, Serrick’s numerous nieces and nephews and cousins, all bedecked in finery and endless, endless, gold.

Killian mechanically performed all the courtesies expected of him, kissing the hands of