Read Online The King's Blood by S. E. Zbasnik, Sabrina Zbasnik - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: S. E. Zbasnik, Sabrina Zbasnik
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be joking."
"No, no," Ciara grabbed Aldrin by the shoulders and pushed him into her waning sight. Pulling upon his doublet, she wiped some of the ground in mud away, showing the plum hidden beneath. "See, real velvet."
"It's more mud than velvet," the shopkeep scoffed, even as her own fingers wandered over the soft allure.
Aldrin tried to squirm away from two women pawing over his clothes, but Ciara held him fast. "It's an aging technique," the girl was thinking quickly, her mind trying to piece together every inane bit of psychology she'd picked up from existing beside the rich, "you put a young boy in your best attire, send him out to roll in the mud, and then you wash it."
Ciara smiled wide, her teeth dazzling in the brown sugar mouth full of pure sweetness and honesty. Liarta narrowed her eyes, still poking at the small spot of pure velvet. "Why?"
"What?"
"Why the whole mud, boy, rigmarole?"
"To make it softer," Aldrin said, catching both women by surprise.
The shopkeeper had assumed the boy was dumb at best, a walking sack of potatoes at worst. But Ciara picked up his string and knitted away, "Yes, yes, to make it far softer than any other fabric that has ever graced skin. It was started by Lady Diane of Magi."
Liarta seemed swayed by the stranger's words and cautiously opened negotiations, "How much?"
Ciara counted on her fingers, "A set of winter coats, mittens and boots, a pair of cloaks..."
The shopkeep nodded, she had some useless, moth eaten rags she could pass off for this treasure. But Ciara wasn't done yet, "And three Ravens."
"What?! Are you out of your mind? Your skin isn't worth that price."
"Fine," she pulled the velvet scrap away from Liarta's fingers, causing a sigh of relief from Aldrin, "we'll take our business elsewhere."
Turning the boy, Ciara got as far as opening the door, the bell jangling in discomfort, before a harried voice called, "Wait. What about the winter clothing, the boots, the mittens and this lovely hat? It was worn by the Empress herself." She raised a pile of felt woven into an old basket handle that had a few vulture feathers stuffed into the top for good measure.
Ciara folded her arms and tried to not look at the damn thing, "How about the winter clothes, a fresh set of tunics, the boots, the mittens and 50 Salamanders?"
Liarta twisted in the wind, her mind already churning with what she could transform that tantalizing velvet into. A simple slit down the back, a little letting out of the seams, and she may just have created Arda's first muumuu. "The clothes, the tunics, the boots, the mittens, the hat, and 15 Chickpeas. My final offer."
It wasn't anywhere close to the amount she'd been hoping for, but Ciara needed that coin, and she suspected there'd be a lot less gullible people through the pass. "Sold."
Liarta vanished into the backroom to cobble together the trade while Aldrin looked up at Ciara, "What just happened?"
"Take your shirt off."
"Beg your pardon?" the boy's hands flew up to cover himself.
But she wasn't about to lose what small gains they'd made that day, "We need money, we need supplies. We can get both money and supplies if you take your Balta damned shirt off and give it to the nearsighted woman who just bought it."
He glared up at her, unwilling to part with what was his, "No."
"If you don't sell her your shirt, we don't eat."
"No!"
Ciara leaned back, crossing her arms, "Very well, we'll sell her your pants instead."
His fingers fumbled with the collar trying to unlace it and slide it over his large head. The mud soaked velvet landed with a thud on the countertop just as the shopkeep returned, her arms overburdened with packages.
She tried to snatch up the mud laying on the counter, but Ciara got the velvet away first. Resigned to the trade, Liarta deposited the packages in Aldrin's cold arms. He welcomed the bundle that obscured his undershirt no longer so under anymore.
Holding out her hand, Ciara waited as the shopkeep
"No, no," Ciara grabbed Aldrin by the shoulders and pushed him into her waning sight. Pulling upon his doublet, she wiped some of the ground in mud away, showing the plum hidden beneath. "See, real velvet."
"It's more mud than velvet," the shopkeep scoffed, even as her own fingers wandered over the soft allure.
Aldrin tried to squirm away from two women pawing over his clothes, but Ciara held him fast. "It's an aging technique," the girl was thinking quickly, her mind trying to piece together every inane bit of psychology she'd picked up from existing beside the rich, "you put a young boy in your best attire, send him out to roll in the mud, and then you wash it."
Ciara smiled wide, her teeth dazzling in the brown sugar mouth full of pure sweetness and honesty. Liarta narrowed her eyes, still poking at the small spot of pure velvet. "Why?"
"What?"
"Why the whole mud, boy, rigmarole?"
"To make it softer," Aldrin said, catching both women by surprise.
The shopkeeper had assumed the boy was dumb at best, a walking sack of potatoes at worst. But Ciara picked up his string and knitted away, "Yes, yes, to make it far softer than any other fabric that has ever graced skin. It was started by Lady Diane of Magi."
Liarta seemed swayed by the stranger's words and cautiously opened negotiations, "How much?"
Ciara counted on her fingers, "A set of winter coats, mittens and boots, a pair of cloaks..."
The shopkeep nodded, she had some useless, moth eaten rags she could pass off for this treasure. But Ciara wasn't done yet, "And three Ravens."
"What?! Are you out of your mind? Your skin isn't worth that price."
"Fine," she pulled the velvet scrap away from Liarta's fingers, causing a sigh of relief from Aldrin, "we'll take our business elsewhere."
Turning the boy, Ciara got as far as opening the door, the bell jangling in discomfort, before a harried voice called, "Wait. What about the winter clothing, the boots, the mittens and this lovely hat? It was worn by the Empress herself." She raised a pile of felt woven into an old basket handle that had a few vulture feathers stuffed into the top for good measure.
Ciara folded her arms and tried to not look at the damn thing, "How about the winter clothes, a fresh set of tunics, the boots, the mittens and 50 Salamanders?"
Liarta twisted in the wind, her mind already churning with what she could transform that tantalizing velvet into. A simple slit down the back, a little letting out of the seams, and she may just have created Arda's first muumuu. "The clothes, the tunics, the boots, the mittens, the hat, and 15 Chickpeas. My final offer."
It wasn't anywhere close to the amount she'd been hoping for, but Ciara needed that coin, and she suspected there'd be a lot less gullible people through the pass. "Sold."
Liarta vanished into the backroom to cobble together the trade while Aldrin looked up at Ciara, "What just happened?"
"Take your shirt off."
"Beg your pardon?" the boy's hands flew up to cover himself.
But she wasn't about to lose what small gains they'd made that day, "We need money, we need supplies. We can get both money and supplies if you take your Balta damned shirt off and give it to the nearsighted woman who just bought it."
He glared up at her, unwilling to part with what was his, "No."
"If you don't sell her your shirt, we don't eat."
"No!"
Ciara leaned back, crossing her arms, "Very well, we'll sell her your pants instead."
His fingers fumbled with the collar trying to unlace it and slide it over his large head. The mud soaked velvet landed with a thud on the countertop just as the shopkeep returned, her arms overburdened with packages.
She tried to snatch up the mud laying on the counter, but Ciara got the velvet away first. Resigned to the trade, Liarta deposited the packages in Aldrin's cold arms. He welcomed the bundle that obscured his undershirt no longer so under anymore.
Holding out her hand, Ciara waited as the shopkeep
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