Gilded Serpent by Danielle Jensen (top 10 novels txt) 📕

his harness. Marcus’s back was to her and she couldn’t tell if he was still breathing, but she needed both her hands to hold on, so it was impossible to check. Adrenaline fueling her, she snarled and climbed up the three feet of rope between Marcus and the baggage cable, gasping in relief when she was able to hook her legs over it and relieve the strain on her exhausted arms.

You need to check if he’s still breathing, logic told her.

And if he isn’t?

You’ll have to cut him loose to ease the weight on the cable.

Every part of her cringed at the thought. To cut him loose and watch him fall. Watch him hit the rocks and ice below. To hear that sound …

If he’s dead, he’s past caring.

But she wasn’t. “Shut your mouth!” she screamed at the voice, hating it because it was part of her that was saying it. An ugly part that she despised and wanted nothing to do with. “He’s alive!” she howled at it. “And I’m getting us out of this.”

You could at least check.

“Fuck you!” Her voiced slammed against the walls of the ravine. Sucking in a deep breath, Teriana climbed.

Hand over hand, the rope pinched between the bend of her knee and the curve of her foot, she climbed. Her palms burned and bled, her fingers growing more numb with each passing second as the wind assaulted her from all sides, trying to knock her loose. Trying to steal him from her.

I can do this.

Up and up, her muscles stinging as they tore, tendons straining, her head throbbing. Her nose started to bleed, the iron taste filling her mouth and making her cough as it dripped into her throat.

I will do this.

Her body was shaking. Broken and spent. But she kept it going, fueling it with willpower and the desire to live. And then there was solid rock beneath her, but she kept going. Kept climbing until her frozen knuckles hit the stone the line was mounted to.

“Okay.” She closed her eyes, tears leaking out from under her eyelids. “Okay.”

Unhooking her legs, she dropped to the ground, the world still seeming to move despite the solid rock beneath her feet as she put on her mittens. She couldn’t reach high enough to unfasten the knot holding Marcus’s harness to the baggage line, so she pulled out her knife. She used her left hand to hold the fingers of her right closed on the hilt so that she could saw at the rope, and wrapped one arm around him when there were only a few fibers left to cut.

She fell backward under his weight, fresh tears welling up as her elbow and head banged against the ground. “Please.” The words came out as a whisper, and she coughed, trying to spit out blood, but it only ran down her chin as she used the last of her strength to roll him onto his back and loosen the scarf around his face. “Please.”

He was blanched deathly pale, even his lips drained of color. And she couldn’t tell if he was breathing.

“No.” She sobbed the word, shoving her frozen fingers against his throat. He was still warm, but she couldn’t feel a pulse.

A strange whimpering filled her ears, and it took her a moment to realize that it was her. But she couldn’t seem to stop making the sound. She held her cheek over his mouth, waiting for the warmth of breath, but her own face was so numb, she wasn’t sure she’d feel it even if it were there. “Marcus!”

Nothing.

Rage filled her. An awful consuming heat, but she welcomed it because it was better than the alternative. “Marcus!” She slammed her fists down on his chest.

And he stirred.

Made a soft noise of protest.

Then, very slowly, he opened his eyes. “Teriana?”

 68LYDIA

Though Killian had told her he traveled fast, Lydia hadn’t appreciated exactly what that meant. They rode hard from dawn to dusk, only to wake while it was still dark and repeat the process, and she suspected that if not for her mark, she’d have barely been able to walk.

As it was, after eating whatever Killian caught and cooked and then doing the inevitable dishes, she would fall immediately asleep, remaining so until Killian woke her for her turn at watch.

The air grew colder as they progressed north, and they woke one morning to frost on the ground, forcing Lydia to dig out the heavier clothing in her saddlebags, pulling gloves over her hands. The ground grew increasingly barren, the only green the pines they rode through. Yet by midday, even those had turned to brown, the ground thick with fallen needles. So it was no surprise when Killian pulled up his horse and dismounted that what she found him looking at was a narrow stream of blight.

“We need to let the horses go,” he said, retreating from it. “The last thing we need is them drinking foul water and becoming infected. The best case would be that they died, but I somehow doubt that’s how it would go.”

He started untacking his horse, and as she turned to unsaddle her own, Lydia heard him murmuring apologies to the animal for abandoning him, as well as promises that if the animal were clever enough to travel south that he’d surely find someone to care for him.

“Fond words for an animal you referred to as an idiot.”

“He’s a good idiot.” Pulling off the gelding’s bridle, Killian tossed the leather straps into the brush. Instead of wandering off, the animal rubbed his face against Killian’s chest, receiving several pats on the neck in exchange. Lydia’s own horse, by comparison, abandoned her as soon as he was free, going to Killian for what she thought were pats until she saw the sugar they were licking from his palms.

Smiling, she said nothing as he said his good-byes to the animals and sent them cantering back down the trail with affectionate swats on the hindquarters. He watched until they disappeared, then turned to