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

The corrupted gave the young man a wounded look, then smirked. “We could find another sacrificial lamb.”

“No.” Agrippa pulled back his sleeve. “Now get it done.”

“As you like.” The corrupted—Sly—crooked a finger at Killian. “Come here.”

It was nearly all Killian could do not to pick up his sword and kill the thing in front of him.

“Get up, Tom,” Agrippa snapped. “He’s not going to bite a paying customer.”

Rising slowly, Killian circled the table to stand next to them, aware that everyone in the common room was watching.

The corrupted’s eyes moved up and down his body, then he said to Agrippa, “Are you ready?”

Face souring, the young man nodded, flinching as Sly took hold of his wrist. Then Sly reached out and caught Killian’s forearm, hand closing painfully over the fracture. Warmth flooded into him even as the pain abated, then the corrupted moved his hand to Killian’s side, fingers trailing down his ribs. “Cracked, but fortunately for Agrippa, not broken.”

Realization of what was happening dawned on Killian. Sly wasn’t healing him by sacrificing some of himself, but rather was acting as a conduit, taking from Agrippa to mend Killian’s broken bones. Killian lurched back. “I’ll be fine.”

“Bullshit,” Agrippa snapped. “I’ve cracked enough ribs to know. Do it, or the deal is off.”

Indecision warred inside of him. This was the opportunity he desperately needed to get into the heart of Derin to retrieve Malahi, but at what cost to his own soul? What would the gods think, seeing him agree to this?

“Well?”

Whatever the cost, he needed to pay it. He owed Malahi that much. “Fine.”

Sly pressed his hand back against Killian’s side, and the pain rushed away, each breath no longer agonizing. Then he smiled. “All better. Though it’s a shame Agrippa won’t pay to fix that pretty face.”

“Time will do that.” Keeping a wary eye on the corrupted, Killian circled back around to take his seat, donning the clothes and weapons Lydia had tossed on the table.

The corrupted sighed, then plucked the coin off the table and slipped it into his coat pocket. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Agrippa.”

Baird watched Sly warily as he retreated back to his table, then muttered, “I can’t stand that bastard.”

“Nor I,” Agrippa said. “But he’s got better control than most of his wretched kind, and his fondness for dice ensures he’s always in need of coin.”

“I’ve never seen one of them do that.” Killian hoped the admission wouldn’t out him as not, as he’d claimed, from Derin, but Agrippa only shrugged. “Rufina forbids it. But even one of the corrupted needs to earn a living somehow.”

The inhabitants of Derin continued to be not at all what Killian expected. “Thank you.”

Agrippa laughed. “Don’t thank me just yet—the Liratoras are far worse than cracked bones.” Then he picked up the bottle of whiskey and filled all three of their cups. “But enough morose chatter. It’s time to celebrate!”

 77LYDIA

Resting on the shifting vines, Lydia struggled to catch her breath, her eyes on the ribbons of blight streaming into the ground from the woman’s fingers. Dragging life from the earth in order to feed the strange parasitic plant she’d become.

Was there a way to extract her? To separate person from plant? Shoving aside vines, Lydia examined the places where they grew into the woman’s body. She could cut her free, then attempt to operate to remove them from the inside of the woman’s body.

Taking a firm grip on her knife, Lydia sawed at a smaller one, cringing as clear liquid spilled on her and trying not to focus on how the woman shifted and moaned, the process obviously painful. But her mark told her the woman’s life was strong, so she persevered, moving on to the woman’s hands. Twisted vines protruded from her fingertips, digging into the earth like blackened roots, and Lydia’s attempts to pull them up yielded no results.

So she started sawing at them with her blade.

Blight spilled from the severed roots, filling the air with its stink and coating her hands, but she didn’t allow herself to stop. Not even when the woman started quivering, the whole mound shaking around them as though caught in a storm breeze.

“It’s okay,” Lydia whispered. “I’ll get you out. I’ll help you.”

Yet as she said the words, the life in the woman began to fade, growing less radiant by the second.

Cutting her free of the blight was going to kill her.

Lydia froze, indecision holding her in place. If she carried on, the woman would die. But if she didn’t, the blight would only continue to spread.

What if she didn’t choose it?

What if this was forced upon her?

What if she’d stop, if given the chance?

Malahi had once said, What is one life in comparison to thousands? when she’d sent Lydia to murder her father.

Lydia had chosen to spare that one life, and gods, but she’d had cause to regret it.

Do it! Don’t be such a coward!

But her whole body was trembling, tears running down her cheeks.

This woman is a murderer! She is killing hundreds! Thousands!

Clenching her teeth, Lydia dragged the blade across the remaining roots. Then she held her breath, hoping and praying that the woman would survive. That she’d open her eyes and take a breath.

But as she watched, the woman began to wither like a cut flower, the light from the mound slowly fading as they both died.

Panic flooded Lydia’s veins, because there was no way the guards weren’t going to notice that one of the mounds had gone dark. Scrambling backward, she extricated herself from the tangle of dead vines, only barely reaching one of the living mounds when she heard shouts of dismay from behind her. Casting a backward glance, she saw the guards had approached the dead mound, panic on their faces.

Run.

Keeping low, Lydia raced toward the town, heart hammering as she joined the masses in the streets. Weaving through them, she slipped in the side door of the inn and paused, hearing Baird’s booming laugh.

And Killian’s.

Peering around