Page 106 of Elven Throne

With a groaning stutter of her chair, she leaned forward and slowly reached toward the offered gift with an outstretched hand. “And what do you desire in exchange?”

Rowan cleared his throat. “We seek the location of the lost records of Agn’a Tha’ros, moved from the capitol city—”

“Before the Gateway opened again.” The Peddler’s hand froze over the Pu’uzáh, and whatever rocking she might have picked back up again stopped abruptly. “Yes. I imagine elveswouldbe interested in such a thing, though I wouldn’t have expected anyone to come searching forthosefor another century or two. What about you, shifter?”

Maxwell stiffened, his jaw muscles working furiously when the Peddler settled her blind white eyes directly on him. “I seek the same.”

She cocked her head in his direction, pursing her lips through the first twitches of another budding smile. “Of course you do. Well I certainly don’t doubtyourconviction.”

Then she lowered her outstretched hand into her lap, not having touched the Pu’uzáh, picked up her knitting once more, and continued rocking. “Unfortunately, I cannot accept this gift.”

The stunned silence felt like a punch to the gut.

“I’m sorry?” Rowan sputtered, mirroring the bobbing of the woman’s head as he cocked his ear towardher, as if certain he’d misheard.

The Peddler rocked and said nothing.

With a scoff, he glanced down the line at Rebecca, his eyes wide with uncertainty. But he quickly tried to pull himself back together and asked, “May I ask why?”

The old woman shrug, her voice as lighthearted and kindly as ever. “It’s insufficient.”

Rowan gawked at her. “Even foroneof us?”

“One of you. All of you. I cannot accept this gift in exchange, but I do hope you find someone else who appreciates its value.”

Shit.

That definitely sounded like a refusal. A dismissal.

Like they were all shit out of luck before they’d even started.

Rebecca wanted to scream.

Rowan had assured her he would take care of everything, that he knew exactly where to go to lead them toward the Bloodshadow prophecy. If he’d told her anything else at all, she would have known to bring something else with her, in case one obnoxious particular Peddler got picky and turned her nose up athisoffering.

And now thePu’uzáhresting uselessly on the table was just another dead end. Completely without value in buying themanyinformation.

The immediate moment of stunned disbelief spread across their little group, then Maleine snorted and folded her arms, shooting Rowan a sideways “I knew you’d fail” glance.

Rowan’s shoulders sagged forward, his mouth gaping open.

Maxwell remained perfectly still, silent and alert and watching everything, but his discomfort in this place was no less palpable.

The Peddler had turned them down, and they were out of options.

That wasn’t good enough.

Rebecca refused to let this end in defeat. There was too much at stake.

On a whim, she stepped quickly forward, swatting Rowan’s hand aside when he reached out to hold her back. “What giftwillyou accept?”

“Ah.” The old woman grinned. “Finally, arelevantquestion. For what you seek, my price is a reading.”

“Wait,what?” Rowan spluttered.

“Somebodygot bad information…” Maleine teased.

He glared at her. “Somebodywasn’t even invited—”

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