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

to eat, you know.” Gwen set the food down on the table in front of Lydia. “Not going to save anyone if you waste away.”

Lydia dutifully spooned the thin soup into her mouth, which despite being poorly seasoned, sparked an appetite in her, and she found she was still hungry when she reached the bottom of the bowl, using the bread to catch the last few drops. Only then did she sit back in her chair. “We’re out of time.”

The other girls exchanged looks, then Lena said, “You tried, Lydia. That’s more than you can say about anyone else. Gods, all Quindor ever does is hole himself up in the sublevel with his pet blighter.”

Quindor was ostensibly studying the girl for signs the blight was evolving or moving toward an ultimate goal, but Lydia believed that Quindor kept Emmy alive to ease his conscience over all those who’d been put down on his orders. “Her name is Emmy.”

“Her name was Emmy,” Lena corrected. “It’s the Corrupter the Grand Master is spending all his hours with, and no one should forget that.”

“He’s well aware,” Lydia answered. “He can see she’s not alive.”

“If all he sees is a corpse, why does he lavish her with clothes and sweets and toys? Seems…” Lena trailed off, her brow furrowing. Then, abruptly, she bent over double and hurled the contents of her stomach onto the library floor.

“Are you all right?” Lydia asked as Gwen pulled the other girl’s hair back from her face.

“Must have eaten something bad,” Lena mumbled, not able to say more as she retched again, sweat beading on her brow.

Unease rose in Lydia’s chest, and reaching out a hand, she caught hold of her friend’s bare arm and pushed.

And recoiled in horror as the Corrupter’s talons dug in.

“What?” Gwen demanded, then her face lost all of its color. “No.”

But there was no denying it as Lena dropped to the floor, her face waxen and twisted with growing pain: she was infected with blight. And while this was the exact moment Lydia had been waiting for—to have the opportunity to try to help someone newly infected—never had she dreamed that the individual would be someone she cared for.

Worse, if it were discovered that one of the infected was within the temple, the soldiers were more likely to kill Lena than to allow Lydia the opportunity to try to save her. And neither she nor Gwen could stop them.

But there was someone who could.

“Run to the palace.” She shoved Gwen toward the door. “Tell the High Lady what has happened and bring her here. Tell no one else.”

Gwen hesitated, her desire to help Lena clearly warring with the fear of leaving her. “I won’t let them have her,” Lydia promised. “Not while she’s still alive—I swear it.”

Giving a tight nod, the other girl hurried out the door, slamming it behind her.

Lena was curled up on the floor, and Lydia swiftly retrieved her cloak, tucking it around the other girl. A touch of her skin against Lena’s could be enough to trigger her mark, so she pulled on a pair of gloves, the fabric protecting her until she was ready.

“If I die, you need to put me down.” Lena was shaking. “While Gwen’s gone. I don’t want her to see. And I sure as shit don’t want her to see me as a walking corpse.”

“Don’t think about that. I’m not giving up on you, so don’t you dare give up on yourself.” Unbuttoning her friend’s dress, Lydia’s stomach flipped at the black lines slowly snaking their way beneath Lena’s skin. They were rising on her torso toward her neck, and Lydia knew that when the blight reached her brain, Lena would succumb.

Lena clutched at her gloved hand, pain rising in her eyes. And if what Lydia had been told was true, it was going to get a thousand times worse. “It’s going to hurt, but you must try to stay quiet, understand? If they hear you, they’ll come.”

Warily, Lydia removed a glove and pressed her bare hand to one of the smaller branches of blight. Taking a deep breath, she pushed.

But instead of a steady flow of life from her to Lena, it felt like claws digging into her, wrenching life from her body so violently it was painful. Panic flooded through Lydia, and she jerked backward, landing on her bottom. Her braid flopped over her shoulder, and picking it up, she saw it had streaks of grey.

“Did it help?” Lena gasped. “I don’t feel better. I feel worse.”

“No,” Lydia breathed, eyeing her friend, the aura of mist around her unchanged. Which was impossible. Where had the life Lydia had given her gone to? It was almost … almost as though the blight had consumed it.

Lydia wracked her brain, trying to come up with a way to help her. But her mark was useless against this.

You have to try.

Swallowing hard, she said. “I’m going to attempt something.” Something she probably shouldn’t with only Lena in the room. “If … if my hair turns white, push me away.”

“Lydia…,” Lena whispered. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”

Ignoring her, Lydia pressed her hands to Lena’s chest, flooding her with life.

Again, it felt as though talons had latched onto her core, ripping her strength from her body, but Lydia only gritted her teeth and kept going. Her vision began to deteriorate as she aged, but not quickly enough that she failed to see that instead of driving the blight back, the life she was giving up seemed to be feeding it. Gasping, she tried to pull back, but the Corrupter’s talons wouldn’t let her go.

The blackness crawled up Lena’s neck, and Lydia could feel her heart beating faster and faster.

Then Lena shoved her away, soft sobs tearing from her lips. “Stop! You’re making it worse. It hurts.”

And Lydia was nearly drained. Her hands were gnarled, the braid hanging over her shoulder nearly white. And all she’d done was speed along the process.

Think. Think. Think.

What was the blight?

Poison, but not. It was … it was death.