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

into her friend’s shoulders and held on. She dug her heels into the other girl’s waist to keep her from pushing her free as she pulled the blight from her friend, searching and digging for the last strands of it, refusing to leave anything behind.

She wrenched out the last little bit, and then an arm closed around her throat, dragging her away from Lena.

“What in the name of the Six is going on?” Dareena demanded, then her eyes fixed on Lydia’s face and widened at what they saw. “Gods, girl.”

She opened her mouth to explain. To tell the High Lady that she’d done it.

But all that came out were screams.

The blight attacked her from the inside, the burning inescapable, and she fell to the floor, clawing at the stones, clawing at herself in an attempt to get it out. Strong hands caught her wrists, forcing them to the ground, but she fought back.

“Gods-damn it, Lydia!” Dareena shouted in her face. “Fight the blight, not me!”

Her mark was fighting, but for every two steps forward, she took one back as death consumed her strength. And she wasn’t certain which one would win.

Then she was up in the air, Dareena shouting instructions as she raced down the hall, Lydia slung over her shoulder. “Hold on, girl,” she ordered, but all Lydia could do was sob and cry, snot and tears covering her face as they descended the stairs.

“She’s infected!” she heard someone scream, but Dareena didn’t stop moving until they reached the barracks and dropped her on a cot. She rolled on her side, digging her nails into her arms, barely noticing the soldiers around her. Barely able to see as it was, her spectacles missing.

“Someone needs to put her down!”

The sound of a sword being drawn filled Lydia’s ears, along with Dareena’s voice, ominous as she said, “By all means, gentlemen, you are welcome to try.”

“With respect, Your Grace,” one of the soldiers said, “if she’s infected, she’s dead. All you’re doing is torturing her.”

“With respect, you idiot,” Dareena snapped, “Lydia may have found a cure for the blight, and I for one would like to hear how she did it. So do the whole city a bloody favor and keep your mouth shut.”

After that, the world faded in and out of focus, Lydia’s throat raw from screaming. Vaguely, she knew Lena and Gwen were near her, could hear their whispers of comfort in her ears and the feel of their hands gripping hers. But it was all distant to the fight going on inside of her. A fight that felt like a war between gods with her body the battleground.

“What’s going on?” Quindor’s voice. “What’s happened to her?”

“I was infected,” Lena said. “And Lydia … I’m not sure how, but she pulled the blight out of me and into herself.”

“You were infected?” Quindor hissed between his teeth. “You need to be isolated. Someone—”

Reaching up from her stupor, Lydia caught her friend’s arm. “You don’t touch her.”

“Don’t presume to give me orders, girl. I—”

“Listen to her, Quindor,” Dareena said, her gaze still on the watching soldiers. “Because I most certainly do presume to give you orders.”

The Grand Master gave an annoyed hiss, but left Lena alone to bend over Lydia, pulling open her robes, his eyes unfocused as he examined her. “The blight is retreating.”

She could feel the acidic burn fading, the blight drawing in on itself near her heart for one last stand. But she refused to let it win.

Closing her eyes, Lydia bit down on the insides of her cheeks and focused inward, directing her mark at herself, feeling the blight weaken and crumble, and then suddenly, it was gone.

She’d beaten it. Saved Lena and beaten back the blight, but gods … the thought of having to do this again. And again and again for all those who continued to be poisoned by the Corrupter. She wasn’t certain it was even possible.

But there was hope, because if Hegeria’s mark could drive it out of a body, surely one of Yara’s marked could drive it out of the land.

Exhausted, she rolled onto her back, staring up at the ceiling above. Then she whispered, “Someone needs to tell the King I’ve found the cure before he starts the purges. And while they’re at it, tell him he needs to find a living tender, because I think I know how we can push back the blight.”

 44KILLIAN

A bead of sweat rolled into his eye, but Killian couldn’t risk moving to wipe it away. Not when the Anuk raiding party they were about to ambush was drawing ever closer, the warriors’ eyes watchful as they scanned the hills and cliffs flanking the path. Other than rocks and scraggly pine trees, there was little cover to be had this time of year, and Killian was relying on the element of surprise.

Below, the first raider’s horse stepped past the marker, and a heartbeat later, the deafening roar of falling rocks filled the air. Debris tumbled across their path, and recognizing they’d been ambushed, the Anuk warriors drew their blades, retreating back the way they’d come at a gallop.

Only to come face-to-face with the Mudamorian force trailing them.

There was no way for them to get the gold-laden camel over the rocks, but they could get over them on foot, if they chose.

Go, Killian willed them. Take the escape route and run.

But instead, the Anuk pulled their weapons.

Anger flared through him, and Killian shouted, “Attack!” Leaping to his feet, he slid down the steep embankment, hearing Sonia and the rest of his soldiers following behind.

The Anuk drew tight around the camel, large shields held above their heads against the barrage of arrows from Killian’s bowmen, their swift desert horses prancing beneath them.

Killian pulled his sword, the bowmen ceasing their assault as the two forces collided.

He crossed blades with a big man, metal singing as they fought, the man’s horse squealing and reaching for Killian with yellow teeth. He stepped out of range, then spun and ran the warrior through, not