Born of Treasure by Elizabeth Jordan

Author:Elizabeth, Jordan [Elizabeth, Jordan]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9781620076989
Publisher: Curiosity Quills Press
Published: 2015-09-20T07:00:00+00:00

lark gulped, rubbing his throat. His Adam’s apple bobbed beneath his palm, expanding and contracting, as if it would strangle him. The cities in Hedlund had houses next to each other, with narrow allies in between, and the main one where his father had that mansion contained buildings so tall he had to tip his head to see the top floor.

New Addison couldn’t be a city. It had to be more of a country all of its own. The next stagecoach they’d rented had passed through a tunnel and emerged in the coach depot. He glanced over his shoulder to the people milling through the main floor as big as the entire Treasure house. A mural of the constellations decorated the domed ceiling. Wooden stands with mongers selling fruit, vegetables, and scarves scattered across the marble floor. Men and women passed between them, the din of voices bombarding Clark’s ears.

Amethyst squeezed his hand, drawing him back to the doorway, and she parted her lips with a grin. “Isn’t it wonderful to be here?”

Wonderful… didn’t mean too much. The coach depot itself had a suffocating, otherworldly feel. “It’s something.”

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve been here.” Zachariah adjusted the strap of his canvas bag on his shoulder. “We came to visit you one fall, didn’t we? We stayed in the hotel and drank hot chocolate, only it had ice in it.”

“I was so mad at Mother and Father for coming. I had to miss a bunch of parties.” A shadow fell over her face and she pursed her lips, as though regretting her words. “It was nice to see you, though.”

Clark realized he gaped, so he shut his mouth. The world beyond the doorway had to be a torture dungeon. He’d slept in cellars nicer than the cobblestone road with heaps of garbage along the wooden plank sidewalks. Vehicles passed one after the other. The buildings of gray stone and brick towered to block out the sun, casting shadows over the hordes of passersby.

A little boy wearing only denim overalls and a felt cap ran up to them with a wooden box. Coal, mud, and what Clark hoped wasn’t feces speckled his body, where flesh hung over bones. In the summers, Clark had run amok shirtless, but if he’d been that dirty, his mother would’ve dragged him to the river and scrubbed him with lye soap until his skin blistered.

The boy snapped open the case to reveal brass pocket watches on silk. “Want a watch, misters? Lady? I have the best prices.”

“Get gone.” Amethyst scowled. “We know you’ve thieved them. Go back to your owner and tell him to give you a better job.”

The boy stuck his tongue out at her before darting into the crowd.

“His owner?” Clark repeated. The child couldn’t be older than six.

Her blue gaze softened. “I know you’ve had a rough life, but things here tend to get a lot worse for orphans. A lot of men will force them to sell stolen goods. People are more apt to buy from a child than from an elder.

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