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

Once Lydia’s mark had defeated the blight she’d drawn into it, the Grand Master had examined both her and Lena thoroughly before deeming them free of the poison. But rather than being invigorated by Lydia’s success, he’d seemed to withdraw into himself as though the development was more curse than blessing. And perhaps for him, it was. Quindor was nearly fanatical in his devotion to Hegeria and his dedication to the healing arts. To discover that many of those he’d condemned to death might have been saved was not a blow he’d soon recover from.

If he recovered at all.

She reached his office only to find it empty. Which was peculiar, because he was of a habit of dining in his office at this hour. Going to the main level, she bypassed the dinner hall, which was full of healers and soldiers eating their rations, and instead approached one of the guards manning the main doors, which had already been locked for the evening. “Have you seen the Grand Master?” she asked.

“He went down to see the prisoner an hour or so ago.”

A flicker of unease passed through Lydia’s chest. Now that they’d found a cure, there was little reason to keep Emmy alive. She’s already dead, Lydia reminded herself. That’s not the little girl you once knew—just a body possessed by the Corrupter.

But the admonition did nothing to still the growing trepidation in her stomach as she made her way down into the sublevel, her boots making soft thuds. The air grew colder as she reached the bottom, following the curved corridor to Emmy’s room.

Only to stop in her tracks.

The guards who normally stood outside the entrance were gone. Heart in her throat, Lydia crept closer, resting her hand on the doorhandle. It turned beneath her grip, and she eased it open, peering inside.

Nothing in the room moved, and her eyes jerked immediately to the prone form on the floor, white robes askew.

Quindor.

She hurried toward him, her stomach turning to liquid as she stared into his sightless eyes. He was unmarked by any injury that she could see, but she knew what had killed him. He’d tried to save Emmy by pulling the blight out of her. But not even Hegeria could bring back the dead.

“Emmy?”

There was no answer, and her skin crawling, Lydia looked around the room for the girl. There was no sign of her. But the stink of blight was thick on the air.

Lowering her head, Lydia peered under the bed, her stomach flipping at the sight of the glistening pool of blight. It had come up through the floor, and as she stared, another flagstone sank into the murk.

Gods, no.

Lydia raced back into the hallway and up the stairs. “The Grand Master’s dead!” she shouted at the soldiers by the door. “Emmy’s loose in the tower!”

“I’m right here, Lydia.”

Her skin turned to ice. Slowly, she turned around to find the little girl standing in the entrance to the barracks, a cup smeared with black held in one hand. “Are you thirsty?” she asked. “All the men were so very thirsty, but I think there might be some left.”

Gasping in horror, Lydia shoved past the girl and raced toward the barracks. “Don’t drink the water!” she screamed. “It’s poisoned with blight!”

But she was too late.

Everywhere she looked, men were doubling over in pain, their faces waxy and sweat dripping down their faces. Those unaffected shoved away their plates and cups, but even as she watched, they started crumpling, falling off their chairs and clutching their bellies, their groans filling the air.

Yet above it all, she heard a loud thump. And then another. And another.

Spinning, she stared at the heavy doors to the temple as they bowed inward, the twin beams that barred them shuddering as something struck the exterior over and over.

“My friends have come!” Emmy squealed, clapping her hands in delight. Then she reached into her pocket, extracting something. Lydia struggled not to retreat as the girl closed the distance between them, holding out Killian’s cuff link. And when Lydia didn’t take it, Emmy pressed it into her hand. It was warm. “He swore to protect you.”

“No, he didn’t,” Lydia whispered, twitching each time the ram slammed against the door behind her.

“He did. On his knees and in the name of the Six.” Emmy smiled sweetly. “But he isn’t here. He’s failed you, just like he failed me.”

The door exploded inward, a battering ram smashing into the guard that had been trying to brace it and sending him flying across the room, where he fell with a wet thump.

And beyond … there were hundreds and hundreds of blighters, all wearing the uniforms of the Royal Army. As she watched, they stepped aside to create a path, their movements in complete unison. Like they were controlled by one mind.

Which they were.

The path revealed the center of the god circle and a man writhing on the ground, crimson-and-gold robes stained and torn. Horror filled Lydia’s chest as she recognized King Serrick’s face, which was twisted with the pain of blight infection.

“Help him!” Lydia shouted at remaining temple guard. But Serrick pushed up on his hands and knees, his eyes fixed on Lydia’s. “Kill me!” he screamed. “Do not let him have a king for a puppet!”

And in a blink of her eye, she knew he was right. That the Corrupter would soon possess the King of Mudamora and most of the Royal Army. An army of corpses, except no one would know it, because it didn’t appear the Corrupter had the intention of allowing anyone out of Mudaire alive.

“Shoot him!” she screamed at the guard, who was staring dumbfounded at the horde, seeing them as his comrades, not as corpses the way she did. When he didn’t move, she wrenched the bow from his grip along with a handful of arrows.

Her hands shaking, she nocked one of them, then let it fly, but it only skittered against the