Her Orc Guardian by Zoe Ashwood EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Zoe Ashwood
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
“I can’t give you more than six silver pieces for this,” the pawnshop owner
says, rubbing her thumb over the engraved gold cover of my locket.
My late mother’s locket.
I grip my hands under the counter separating us, squeezing my fingers
tight to offset my nervousness. If she catches even a whiff of my desperation,
she won’t budge from her initial price.
“It’s worth fifteen, and you know it.” I scowl at her.
“Fifteen!” She lets out a forced cackle, her lined face creasing. “Girl, I
wouldn’t pay fifteen silvers for this if my own mother brought it in here.”
Given how old she is, I’d imagine there’s little chance of her mother ever
visiting this shop again.
“Fine, I’ll part with it for thirteen, but that’s as low as I can go,” I haggle.
She pops the clasp and inspects the enamel forget-me-nots hidden on the
inside. “It’s a pretty piece. Usually, when people bring in lockets, they hold
something worthless like a lock of their sister’s hair.”
I try not to fidget in place. The forget-me-nots were my mother’s favorite
flower, and my father had bought her this locket when she’d given birth to
me.
“So, you know it’s worth more than what you’re offering.” I glower at the
woman. “Don’t insult me with another low offer. I can just as easily take it
elsewhere.”
I have no idea how much the locket is actually worth, but it’s priceless to
me. I’d never sell it if I didn’t have to, and I sold the chain in a town five
days ago, but…I have no choice now.
“Eight silvers,” the woman barks, her laughter forgotten.
“Twelve,” I counter.
“Nine.” She leans forward slightly.
She wants the locket, I can tell. Is she really that keen to sell it on?
“Eleven,” I propose, “but you keep it for three months from today so I
can come back and buy it from you.”
Her face splits into a grin, and she holds out her dry, wrinkled hand.
“Deal.”
I swallow my misgivings and wait as she reaches into the heavy purse at
her waist and counts out eleven shiny silver pieces, forming a pile on the
polished counter. I should have gotten more from her. But I can’t afford to
stay in Ultrup any longer than I already have.
“It was a pleasure doing business with you,” the woman says, beaming.
“If you ever find yourself with another such lovely piece to sell, don’t
hesitate to visit me again.”
She’s implying I stole this one, I think. Not that I blame her for it. I bet
pickpockets are the primary customers of her establishment, and every one of
them comes in with a story about their mother’s precious heirloom. I give her
a curt nod and keep my reply to myself. There’s no chance of me ever
returning here—I have nothing more to sell.
The woman must sense what I’m thinking, though, because she stops me
from getting up by placing her hand over mine.
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