The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price Read Online Free Page B

nicking my skin, but I barely noticed. I was too startled by the creepy way her eyes were rolling back in her head and the rapt, sightless stare she was training on me.
    With the same, weird voice, she said, “The stone. I’ll give you whatever you want for it.”
    Unnerved, I said, “It’s not for sale.”
    “You answer so quickly. Can’t we bargain?”
    “Sure. Here’s my counter offer.” I hoisted my sword up out of the bog and slammed the muddy hilt into the side of her head, so hard she went flying.

THREE
    T aren hissed as I pressed a cloth against the gash on her head. “Damn it, Troy. Give me that.” Wrists bound, she yanked the rag out of my hand. She struggled to get up, but her ankles were tied too and the slippery mud was unforgiving. “I’m starting to dislike you,” Taren groaned, settling back down.
    “Feeling’s mutual.” I gestured at her wound. “Tighter. You’re getting blood on my rope.”
    She responded with a rude gesture. I ignored it and squatted down in front of her. Pushing a cascade of mud matted hair back from Taren’s eyes to make sure she could see mine, I said, “I need something from you.”
    “Really?” Taren bit her lip. “All you had to do was ask.”
    “Not that.” I sat back on my heels. Reaching into my shirt, I pulled out the shard of obsidian. “Tell me why you want this.”
    That abnormal, unwavering glare she had before resurfaced. “To fix the circle.”
    “What circle?”
    Almost like a song, she replied, “A beautiful circle buried in the sand, seamless and whole…until you found it.” Her expression tightened. Her voice followed. “The piece wasn’t yours to take, Troy. An ancient artifact, fashioned into the shape of a King’s circlet, containing a bottomless well of magic…the Crown of Stones is the most remarkable piece of Shinree history ever recovered. It is the most important. And you broke it.”
    My entire body stiffened.
How can she know?
    I dropped my hand from the shard and stood up. Dozens of questions were spinning in my mind, but all I could get out was, “I didn’t break it.”
    Taren gave me a bored yawn. “A little over ten years ago you brought King Raynan Arcana the Crown of Stones, along with the body of his dead wife. He buried Aylagar. You hid the crown—not very well, I might add. But before that, he broke off a part and gave it to you. You put it around your neck and haven’t taken it off since.”
    Swallowing my unease, I said nothing for long while. I went from being shocked to thinking about denying it. To deciding there was no point. “You’re right. Everything you said is true. But there were only two people in the room that day and I’ve never spoken of it to anyone. Neither would he.”
    “Not willingly.”
    “Fuck you, Taren. You couldn’t get within spitting distance to Rella’s king.”
    She gave me a long, malevolent stare. “You can’t keep it. Though, I can see where you might imagine you have a right to it. Before you, the crown was nothing but legend. You made it famous. Or is that infamous?” she grinned. “But you have it backwards, Troy. It’s the crown that has a right to you. It staked its claim the day you wore it.” Inquisitively, her gaze wandered over me. “Odd, isn’t it? Shinree have been wearing stones without incident for centuries until your little episode with the crown.” Her eyes settled on their target and she asked coyly, “Did it hurt?”
    At first, I thought she was talking about the set of small scars concealed beneath the fall of hair across my forehead. Likely, in our tussle, Taren had seen them. But she wasn’t referring to the faintly colored impressions left behind where the crown touched my skin. She was speaking of a much more visible branding.
    On the left side of my head, no more than two finger widths wide, was a mark. By ordinary human standards, it was far from disfigurement. But I’m not ordinary. And magic doesn’t wound the same as a sword. It