Free The Crown of Stones: Magic-Price by C. L. Schneider Page A

said, enjoying watching her move. Her hair was an avalanche of wide, autumn curls. Her body was healthy, scantily dressed and full of curves, and I liked the way her skirt lifted as she stretched.
    “It’s a little group of islands just off the coast of Doratae.” She glanced back. “Some say their spirits are the best ever made.” Making contact with the bottle, she pulled it down, parted a set of lips that were perfect for kissing, and blew the dust off the label. “What do you say, Shinree?” Grinning, she sat the bottle down in front of me. “Are you brave enough to find out?”
    “Only if you’re brave enough to join me.”
    In reply, she popped the cork, and the man at the bar beside me slurred in a deep voice, “Your presence brings with it a foul odor, witch.”
    I turned slightly toward him. He was big for a Kaelishman. He was also considerably drunker than I was. But that didn’t make him wrong.
    “I bet it does,” I said, sniffing at the remnants of swamp on my coat.
    “Maybe I wasn’t clear,” he said. “You stink.” Teetering, the brute edged closer. The layer of ash caked on his hair and skin was thicker than the coating of grime on the tavern windows.
Blacksmith,
I thought as he leaned in closer. “You don’t belong here.”
    “You’re right in that,” I agreed, surveying the room full of shadowy figures hunched over their mugs. Since none of them had given me anything on my elusive, Shinree enemy, I should have left hours ago. Instead, I chanced staying and, feeling sorry for myself, hit the wine. I thought a mug or two might help. Now, after a few more than two, I could comfortably say that I felt far worse than when I walked in. A cold sweat had my shirt clinging to my skin. Small earthquakes were traveling the length of my insides. My head was pounding.
    The only thing I’d found worthy of distracting me from my cravings for magic was the girl behind the bar. So I put my back to the unpleasantblacksmith and smiled at her. “Shall we?” I nodded at the jug. She put down two cups and began filling them. The liquid, as it came out, was dark with a pungent, spicy smell. I eyed it warily. “What’s your name, girl?” I asked her.
    Her reply was an ornery grin. Selecting one of the cups, she saluted me with it, drained it—and her face immediately contorted in pain. She was coughing and laughing so hard, I could barely understand when she wheezed out, “Imma.”
    I wasn’t sure yet about the drink, but I liked her.
    I dug in my pocket and put a few more coins on the counter. “You get many Shinree in here, Imma?”
    Still wincing, she cleared her throat. “Sometimes the nobles come in with their slaves looking for a discreet place to get their money’s worth. If you know what I mean.”
    “Not a slave. I’m looking for someone off
Kayn’l
. A man.”
    “That’s funny. I’m looking for a man too.” Imma leaned toward me over the bar. “And I think you’ll do just fine.” She inclined her body further in my direction and the rounded collar of her bodice gaped invitingly. I caught the faint scent of lavender that clung to her red-brown hair as she plucked my drink off the counter. She held it to my mouth. “I hope you like it hot.”
    With difficulty, I raised my gaze from her overflowing breasts to her sensual eyes. I took the cup from her hand, and a sudden, involuntary shudder of craving raced up my arm. “He’s tall,” I said, tightening my grip. “He was wearing a cloak. I know that doesn’t help much but he came in a while back looking to hire. Met with a woman. Name of Roe.”
    Imma scooted back off the counter to her side of the bar. With that slight distance, the scent of her vanished. Strangely, I found myself missing it.
    “Roe’s been here before,” she replied, thinking, “but not for some time. As far as your Shinree goes…healers don’t come unless enough blood spills to get the magistrate involved. And oracles don’t come unless you pay