The Draykon Series (1-3)

Chapter Eleven

   Llandry bent over her workbench, wielding her jeweller's tools with precision. Her father had made them for her years before, and she treasured them almost as much as she treasured her stones. Her equipment had been moved from her tree to her mother's balcony earlier in the day, and she had set to work immediately, eager to return to her trade. She'd chosen the balcony because the hazy forest light soothed her, the breezes caressing her wings as she worked.

   Light-globes hovered just above her head, illuminating her delicate close-work. She drew one down to the bench, blinking until her eyes adjusted to the stronger glow. On the bench lay a piece of sapphire, its polished surface reflecting the light perfectly. Sapphire had been her favourite gem before she had discovered the istore, and she still loved its rich blue colour. She was preparing to cut the stone; it was large enough to make a fine brooch, or a centrepiece for a necklace. It kept her busy in her mother's absence.

   She braced the jewel and lifted her tools, beginning to cut.

   'Good morning.' That cursed deep, musical voice spoke from the doorway, aggravatingly pleasant even when he was carelessly disturbing her work. Her concentration broke, her hands slipped, and a diamond-tipped edge slammed into the stone in entirely the wrong place. She gasped, gathered the gem up like a hurt child and anxiously inspected the surface.

   It hadn't cracked. She wrapped it quickly in soft cloth and replaced it in her jewel box.

   'The stone doesn't crack under a sudden fright, but I might,' she said without turning around. 'Mere flesh and bone, me, susceptible to surprises.'

   'I'm sorry,' he said, and he did sound contrite.

   Irritation had made her uncharacteristically verbose before; now she felt discomfort creeping over her, stealing her words. She changed her mind about the stone, took it out of the box and slipped it into her pocket. It was cold, and remained so despite its proximity to her skin. The way a proper gem ought to feel.

   She turned away from her bench at last, and forced herself to look him in the eye. She managed something like a smile. To her dismay he smiled back, a wide, uninhibited smile full of warmth. She felt heat coming into her face again and looked away, focusing her gaze determinedly on the floor.

   'So, um. How are you?' Her words emerged almost inaudibly.

   'I can't speak for the floor, but I am well enough, thank you.' His tone was lightly teasing. She looked up, startled, to catch a renewed smile just fading from his face.

   She nodded vaguely, becoming too aware of that smile. She looked back at the floor, feeling awkward, and drifted to the balcony rail, seeking an excuse to avoid Devary's gaze. To her dismay he followed her, settling only a couple of feet away. Much too close... and he was looking at her again, trying to catch her eye.

   'Llandry?'

   'Mhm.'

   'You do not like me very much. Is there something I did to offend you?'

   Curse him, he actually sounded sad about it. 'Why should it matter?' she said, almost savage. 'You're here for Mamma.'

   'I - well, yes, but that doesn't mean-' He broke off. She glanced at him, briefly. He looked bewildered and sorry. She dug her fingers into the balcony rail, wishing he would go away.

   'I don't dislike you.'

   'You behave as if you do.'

   She struggled with herself helplessly. How could she possibly explain?