I was grinning by the time I got back to the shop.
Chapter Three
I was in my workroom when the doorbell chimed. I smiled to myself as I set the heating coil in the base of the hot pedestal I was working on. Another customer. I had come to Vagasof with enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life. I had been a lord, after all. But I sank a good portion of my savings into the shop and the materials I needed to build my inventions. The materials were a constant drain on my funds, but that loss was minor compared to my profits. I'd soon have twice as much as I'd invested. And then I might have enough to buy a vanrussa and the both of us could live comfortably together.
“Your Majesty!” Arena squeaked. “It's an honor to have you in our shop. How may I help you?”
I went still, the part falling from my hand to clatter onto the table. He was here? Now? After all this time? Why?
“I'm looking for the owner,” a deep, but not too deep, voice said. It was the perfect, velvet timbre. “At least, I think I am.”
“Uh, you mean Galin?”
“Is Galin an Argaiv man with long blond hair and eyes like a summer meadow?”
Arena paused.
A choking sound came out of my throat.
“I . . . yes?” she said.
I shot to my feet and rushed out of the workroom. Stopping just inside the workroom doorway, I stared at His Majesty. Broad shoulders, trim waist, regal bearing. He was dressed in a tailored suit with a maroon tapestry vest and gold cravat, the height of fashion. My stare slid down the perfect line of one arm to his hand. It was the same strong hand I had glimpsed before but now I saw that it was more courtesan than conqueror. Strong but manicured, the nails buffed. Holding a top hat. Interesting. And then there was that scar.
“Ah, here he is,” the King said. “The man I'm after.”
As a shiver ran down my spine, I looked up and met the Dragon King's vivid pale stare.
“Arena, you can take your break now,” I said, holding the royal stare.
“Uh, yes, sir.” Arena hurried into the workroom and shut the door. Smart girl.
I went forward, coming around the counter to stand before the King. Only then did I sink into a bow. When I rose, the King's eyebrows did as well.
“You move like a courtier.”
I canted my head. “Up until recently, I was one, Your Majesty. I hail from Nuri. The Dragon Court of King Dhrostan.”
“And you came here to become a merchant?”
“I came here to become an inventor.” I waved my hands out at the shop.
The Dragon King looked around, his brows going even higher. “What is all of this?”
“My inventions.” I joined him before a display of inkrights. “These are self-contained writing implements with the ink within the shaft.”
“Within the shaft?” He looked up at me.
“Yes.” I went to the back of the case and pulled out an inkright and offered it to him. After he took it, I took the sample pad out from beneath the display and set it before him. “Here you are. Give it a try, Your Majesty.”
He looked from me to the inkright. Then he set the tip on the paper and wrote, King Rianvar. The ink flowed smoothly out of the shaft and with no blobs as often happened with a quill. While he wrote, I went back to inspecting him. The scar wasn't as large as I remembered. Just a thin line through his right eyebrow. I suppose its mere presence exaggerated it. It fascinated me. I almost reached out and touched it.
“Great Dragon God!” the King exclaimed, jerking me out of my insane thoughts. “I must have one!”
“Please, take whichever you wish.” I waved my hands at the selection. “It would be my honor to supply the Dragon King with one of my inkrights.”
“An ink write?” He grinned.
“Yes, 'right' as in correct, though. And all one word. It's a play on words.”
