A Soul for Trouble by Crista McHugh Read Free Book Online Page A

like I’m a child. I’m twenty-one, not twelve.”
    “I’m sorry. You seem so young to me.”
    Her hand itched to slap him, but when she focused on his face, she stopped herself. The downward tug of his mouth and the way his brows bunched together spoke more of sadness than mockery. “Why?”
    He backed away and reached for his shirt.
    “ He’s more than ten times your age, my Soulbearer. That’s why. Talk about a dirty old man .”
    “And how old are you?”
    Dev flinched. “I’m three hundred twenty-three years old, if you really want to know.” Her breath came in sharp gulps from his reply. She’d heard elves lived a long time, but over three hundred years? “Are you immortal?”
    “ Only gods are immortal, you silly girl .”
    “No, I’ll eventually grow old and die, but at a much slower rate than a human.”
    “If you were a human, how old would you be?”
    “Are you going to watch me dress while you ask me all these questions?” She dutifully faced the corner again. For a three-hundred-year-old man, he looked damn good. Almost too good. And he would continue to look good while she turned into an old crone, so it was best she push any stupid thoughts out of her head.
    “To answer your question,” he continued, “I guess I would be about thirty or thirty-one.”
    “Oh. That doesn’t seem that old to me.”
    “Why? Do I look older?”
    “Only when you frown.”
    He laughed. The sound of leather sliding through a metal buckle let her know he had finished dressing. “I asked the innkeeper to send dinner up here. I hope you don’t mind eating in private.”
    Someone knocked at the door as soon as the words left his mouth. The innkeeper silently set two plates of steaming food on the small table. A barmaid appeared a second later with mugs of ale and followed her boss out of the room.
    Arden reached for hers and gulped half the contents. The cool liquid soothed her dry throat, warmed her belly.
    “Slow down with the ale. I don’t need a drunk Soulbearer.” She peered at Dev from over the mug. “Sorry, but I haven’t had anything to eat or drink all day.”
    “That’s my fault. I should have forced you to eat something earlier today. It won’t happen again. Now, eat before your food gets cold.”
    She cut a small slice of meat and popped it in her mouth. The juices coated her tongue with flavor, and she sighed. “This is so good.”
    Dev tossed a sliver of meat to the wolf. “I’ve had better.”
    “It’s the best meal I’ve had in months.” She reached for a chunk of bread to sop up the gravy.
    “Who’s Lord Yessling?”
    The bread stopped inches away from her mouth. He wasn’t threatening to sell her to him already, was he? “He’s a local nobleman.”
    He cocked a brow and waited for her to continue.
    She dropped the bread. “He likes women and tends to go through them quickly. Most of the farmers around here know they can fetch quite a few loras by selling their daughters to him, especially if they’re pretty.”
    “And what happens to these girls?”
    “They’re put to ‘work,’ is the politest way to say it. Sometimes they come back.
    Sometimes they don’t.”
    “How do you know so much about him?”
    “Why are you asking?” When he didn’t answer her question, she added, “Hal always threatened to sell me to him because I looked so different from most of the girls around here.” He frowned but didn’t say anything else for the rest of the meal. When their plates were empty, he stood and ran his hand along the door. Blue light peeked out from the gaps.
    “What are you doing?”
    He repeated the same action with the lone window. “Sealing the room.” Arden rolled her eyes and flopped down on the bed. “I promise I won’t try to run away.”
    “It’s not to keep you in—it’s to keep others out.” He stared through the window at the town below for a few seconds, probably searching for the supposed necromancer who was chasing them.
    “And I thought I