Chapter One
I stared up at the shop sign, elation filling my heart. It was a nice change from the sorrow that had ruled me since I'd left Nuri. No, even before I left. I was still healing from losing the man I loved, a Ricarri who had commanded the Ricarri Army but fell in love with the Dragon King of Vix. Rontor had been mine first. Or rather, I had been his. He'd given me what no other had before—a sense of safety and belonging. And I had called him master.
Never again.
If one good thing had come from my time with Rontor, it was strength. Before I met him, I was aware of my need to be dominated. But now, I also knew that I could be dominated without being abused. I didn't like pain, not physical or emotional. And I didn't have to accept it just to feel claimed. I wanted more than that. Not possession but adoration. I wanted to feel treasured. If I ever wore a collar again, it would be because a man loved me so much, he needed a physical representation of the ties between us. I wanted to be consumed and drive a man mad with desire, maybe even jealousy. But I would never call another man master. That went too far. It diminished me. I wanted to feel claimed without also feeling like a slave. I could be strong in my own way.
Hadn't I given up my lordship and position at court to follow my dream? I had. And I moved out of the Kingdom of Vix, coming to the Kingdom of Sken all alone to set up shop in the crown city of Vagasof. I didn't know anyone in Vagasof, but I wanted that—a fresh start. And there was an Argaiv community here, so there were social opportunities for me. I'd only been in Vagasof for a month, but I had already made new friends.
I had always been a tinkerer, but Rontor had encouraged me to take it further. So I did. With his belief buoying me, I donned the title of inventor and set up shop to offer my inventions to the public. I'd gone from lord to merchant, but it didn't feel like a step down to me. No, this was moving up. Or maybe just forward.
“Galin's Emporium,” I read the sign aloud and smiled.
I commissioned it in metal, in honor of my Ricarri lover, the words engraved and enameled as his name was on my heart. The sign would last forever. We'll see how long the shop did.
“Thank you,” I said to the artisan who had made the sign and come to hang it properly for me. “It's perfect.”
“What are you selling in there?” Hud, the artisan, asked.
Hud was a Ricarri, of course. They were the best metalworkers around. Even if they hadn't been, I would have wanted a Ricarri to fashion the sign for me. It felt right.
“My inventions.” I smiled despite the twinge I felt from merely looking at Hud's silvery skin. “Machines, gizmos, and items that make life easier.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Well, you might like my grindstone.”’
Hud made a face. “I have a grindstone.”
“Not like this one.” I waved him inside, where all of my inventions were displayed on brand new stands, shelves, or in glass cases. The grindstone was at the back, near the reckoiner (a cash counter that was another of my inventions). Since it was one of the larger inventions, I needed it out of the way. “Look at this.” I pushed a button, and the stone started to move on its own. “Not only does it move without the need for a peddle, but it's also powered by eternal spell crystals. The grinding stone can be adjusted to suit your preference for smoothness in a mere moment.” I pulled a lever, and the stone sank into the machine to be replaced with another one with a finer grind. “There's even a grindstone that's only a half-inch wide as well as a buffer for jewelry work.”
“Dear Gods,” Hud gaped at the machine. “This is wondrous. How does it work?”
“As I said, it's powered by spell crystals. The main spell is Earth Magic, but there's a smaller Air enchantment. And they never need to be replaced, so you don't have to worry about them.”
“How much do you want for it?”
“I was going to charge five gold for it. But if you want it, I'll discount it to four in exchange for the sign.”
He grinned. “Bring it down to three gold and nine silvers and we have a deal.”
“Agreed!” I shook his hand. It was a huge discount, but even taking into account the price I paid for parts and spell crystals, I was still making two gold in profit. Since it had taken a week to make, I thought that was more than fair.
A few minutes later, Hud was walking out with the grindstone while I put the coins into my rekoiner. The box dinged to tell me the total coins charged, the total received, the amount of change needed to be given (none), and the new total I had in the reckoiner. It was an incredible first sale, and I'd barely had to do anything to make it.
“My first sale,” I whispered. “I can do this!”
The bell hung over the door dinged and an Argaiv couple walked in—Hildra and Frex, some of my new friends from the Vagasof Argaiv community.
“Galin, this looks wonderful!” Hildra exclaimed.
Her delicate wings were enclosed within one of my knitted wing shawls—a pair of sheaths that were wide enough to allow for movement but enveloped an Argaiv's double wings completely so no drafts could chill the delicate membranes. I'd given her one of my first attempts—a prototype, if you will. I made it with my weaver (a machine I'd invented to knit garments). The four wing pieces of the scarf attached at the center-top of Hildra's back and then separated to flow over her shoulders into tapered lengths that draped her chest, just like a normal shawl.
We Argaivs hate to put our wings away. Drawing them into our backs doesn't hurt or anything like that. But it feels as if we're hiding our most wonderful feature, that which made us Argaivs. Yes, it was a pride thing, but it was also how we connected to our Air Magic. With them inside us, the magic felt stifled. We felt stifled. It was also a protective action, so pulling them in made us less confident, even if we were only protecting them from the weather.
I may not be able to help my fellow Argaivs avoid every instance in which they'd need to retract their wings, but the wing shawl was perfect for those cold days when we'd normally be unable to keep our wings out or would have to cover them in a cloak. Yes, they were still covered, but everyone could tell that they were out, and they had more freedom of movement than they would under a coat. I hadn't tested them during winter yet, but I was hoping they would hold up to even those harsh conditions.
Hildra loved her shawl and was delighted to wear it around town and show it off to all her friends. So the gift served two purposes. It made Hildra, one of the first people to welcome me to Vagasof, happyandadvertised my work. I had a whole rack of the garments out for sale, with designs for both women and men, in the hopes that it paid off.
