“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, blin...king 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.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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