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

And Killian only had another thirty seconds before Lydia freed the boat.

Moving at speed, he jumped down the steep incline, hitting the ground and rolling to his feet. The wildmen heard him and turned, but he’d already cut one of them down. Holding the man’s body in front of him like a shield, he sliced the arm off another, then shoved the dead man at the archers before attacking.

It was a dance of blood and steel, his skill against their numbers as they pulled their blades and threw themselves at him with utter fearlessness.

Killian fought to maim rather than to kill, needing to whittle down their strength before the boat appeared.

He left screaming men in his wake, their weak blades shearing beneath Mudamorian steel. Blood splattered him in the face, his and theirs, but Killian ignored the pain.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Agrippa swimming to shore, the girl still in his arms, but he couldn’t afford to think of that now.

Fight.

One of the wildmen got under his guard, weapon slicing along his ribs, and Killian stumbled back. The other man grinned at him with broken teeth and lunged, but Killian skipped sideways, stabbing him as he passed.

But the wildman’s momentum wrenched his sword from his grip.

Cursing, Killian pulled a knife and barely caught the downward swipe of another blade, his body shuddering under the impact. He kicked the man in the knee, not pausing to watch him crumble, instead twisting and throwing his knife at another man who ran screaming toward him.

It sank into the wildman’s left eye and he fell, landing on Killian’s legs.

Struggling to get free, he jerked sideways, an arrow embedding next to his head, and he looked up to see another man with an arrow trained at his chest.

And then Agrippa was there.

He slashed open the archer’s back, then turned to punch another in the face, fighting with impressive skill.

The boat flew from the ravine, full of the sprawled forms of the soaked travelers, Baird fighting to get into position to row. And Lydia, her eyes wide with terror, clinging to the prow.

Back-to-back against Agrippa, Killian crossed swords with what seemed endless fur-clad warriors, his clothes as much soaked from blood as water. But he could sense Agrippa faltering, his skin cast blue with cold, his sword arm wavering.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boat reach the shore. Saw Lydia on her feet, racing toward the still form of the girl lying on the bank. Saw one of the archers train an arrow at her back as she knelt next to the child.

A massive wildman came charging at Killian, the man nearly as big as Baird. He parried the man’s blow, but the force knocked him backward. Punching the man in the gut, he twisted in time to see the archer’s bowstring snap forward.

“No!” he screamed, lunging.

But Agrippa was already there. He threw himself forward, colliding with Lydia and then sprawling over both her and the girl, an arrow embedded in his back.

Killian’s skin burned, his panic rising as he saw more wildmen crossing the river, racing to reinforce their brethren, because he knew this wasn’t a fight he could win. Gutting the big man, he sped toward Lydia. “Get the girl in the boat!” he screamed at her, then slid in the slush and gravel, bending to get an arm under Agrippa’s shoulder and hauling him to his feet.

Arrows flew past him, and he snarled in pain as one scored along his upper arm, but he kept himself between Lydia and the attackers. The other travelers hauled her and the child into the boat.

“Start rowing!” Killian shouted, then half-threw Agrippa into the arms of the others.

Rock and gravel crunched as the wildmen pursued, arrows flying, and Killian leapt into the vessel. Seeing Agrippa’s bow still miraculously fixed at the prow, he grabbed it and a handful of arrows, balancing on one of the benches as the boat surged downstream.

An arrow shot toward him. Killian leaned sideways to avoid it, then loosed three of his own, his aim true.

Then the boat surged around a bend in the river, leaving the wildmen cursing in their wake. But it wasn’t their shouts that stole his attention. It was the sob that came from behind him.

“My baby!” a woman howled, and as he turned, he saw the mother clutching the girl’s still form. Lydia knelt next to them, the wet fringe of her hair parted and plastered against her head, clearly revealing the half-moon healer’s mark tattooed there. She lifted her face to meet his gaze, her intentions obvious.

And the ramifications equally so.

 86LYDIA

The girl was alive, but only barely. If Lydia didn’t help her, death would come. For her, as well as for Agrippa.

She turned to look at the young man who commanded Rufina’s armies. His arms were braced against the side of the boat, face twisted in pain, his eyes fixed on her face. “Help her,” he said from between clenched teeth. “I’m fine.”

“No, you are dying.”

“Your bedside manner is shit, Gertrude. Anyone ever tell you that?”

She shrugged, then turned back to the girl’s mother. “Give her to me. I can help her.”

With obvious reluctance, the woman handed her the still form of the little girl. She was battered and bruised, but the cold water had done worse, her pulse so sluggish as to be nonexistent. Taking a deep breath, well aware that all eyes were on her, Lydia pushed life into the child, healing her injuries and bolstering her strength even as she felt her own diminishing.

“Healer,” one of the men murmured, and it was a struggle not to flinch, because this revelation would put any chance they had of rescuing Malahi at risk.

The child opened her eyes and began to cry, and Lydia allowed her mother to pull the girl from her arms. “Do what you can to keep her warm.”

Then she turned back to Agrippa. His