Page 63 of Bred
“I have this,” I exclaimed. “I want to be chosen as a surrogate.”
Dusty laughter echoed in my ears and I glared at the parchment covered counter. “Tell me why I can’t,” I demanded.
A slender hand emerged, fingertips stained black with ink, and pushed a stack of scrolls off the counter. I don’t know why I’d expected someone… different to own a shop like this, but I shouldn’t have been surprised.
The shop had a distinct flair that I should have recognized immediately. Collections of bottles and scrolls, piles of glittering objects, mysterious casks and boxes, bound in iron to keep fairies out, all of it covered in cobwebs and a thick layer of dust.
A goblin with silverblue rings fastened to its long dark hair stared back at me with large, defiant eyes that shone silver in the dim light.
It was impossible to know how old goblins were unless they told you, and their secrets cost more copper coins than I would ever possess.
Ink-stained nails tapped on the stained wooden counter as the goblin stared at me, calculating.
“Well?” I choked out.
“You look young enough,” the goblin said. “Are you fertile?”
“I— How should I know?”
His mouth curved. “Have y’had a babe?”
I made a face. “No.”
“A serving wench, then.” It wasn’t a question.
“I work for Lady—”
The goblin held up a broad hand. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Can you help me?”
The goblin leaned on the counter and beckoned me forward. I complied with halting steps and flinched as the creature snatched the royal announcement from my fingers. He read it carefully, glancing up at me every so often, and I fidgeted as I waited.
“Well?”
He rolled the parchment carefully and handed it back to me. “Why should I?”
I hadn’t thought of that. I only had a few coppers in my pocket. Not enough to buy anyone’s silence, or help.
“Can you just… What if I just bought some herbs and you pretend you didn’t see me?”
The goblin’s dark brow rose. “It takes quite a lot for me to forget a face. Especially a beautiful one.”
“I just—” I shoved the parchment into my bodice and fumbled in my pocket for the coins that I’d brought. They clattered on the rough wood as I threw them down. “What can you give me?”
His tongue clicked as he looked at the coins and then back at me. “Advice.”
I grabbed for the coins, but he swept them out of sight before I could snatch them away.
“It’s not enough towantto be a surrogate,” he said. “What was your plan? Overdose yourself on some tea to open your womb and then, what, throw yourself at the Fae King when his carriage passes by and hope to catch his eye before you’re trampled under the hooves of the royal horses?
I glared back at the goblin.
“No.”
“So you didn’t have a plan?”
No.
