Page 8 of Wings of Frost and Fury
“You have a tongue, don’t you? And fingers?”
“Yes—”
“Then you have all the equipment you need. Using your cock size as an excuse for your failure to please women is pathetic and lazy. Does a large cock enhance pleasure? Sometimes. Is it the sole instrument needed to bring a woman to orgasm? Certainly not. In fact, the cock itself is perhaps theleastimportant tool for achieving female pleasure.”
A couple of the onlookers cover their children’s ears and stare reproachfully at me.
“If such things were discussed more openly, we’d have a happier world.” I step back from the young man, hand a few coins to the vendor, and take a pair of the earrings I was admiring.
As I begin to walk away, the young man exclaims, “You’re denying my request?” in a tone of complete disbelief. As if he has never been denied anything in his life.
I halt and stride back to him. “You want a new cock? You shall have one by the time you wake up tomorrow morning.” I brush his hair back from his face, then yank out two strands.
“Ow!” he exclaims, shrinking back. He looks startled by the pain, as if he hasn’t experienced much ofthatin his life, either.
Entitlement. Laziness. Selfishness. And the inability to endure any suffering, no matter how small. Those are things I despise in a man. In anyone, really.
I am going to enjoy teaching this fellow a lesson.
“These are necessary for the spell,” I inform him, holding up the hairs I pulled.
“Oh.” He reaches for the leather purse at his belt and takes out a handful of coins. “Here. The first part of the payment. I’ll give you more if the new cock is satisfactory. You can come to my house for your money. It’s the big one with the pink bricks, up on the bluff.”
“I don’t think I’ll need to visit,” I tell him demurely. “You’ll come to me.”
“Ah, I see.” He smirks again, then licks his lips. “I look forward to our next meeting.”
It’s all I can do not to let my disdain show on my face. I turn away and head out of the market, ignoring the tentative calls of a few villagers who are probably also interested in my magical services.
At the edge of town, I drop most of the coins the young man gave me into a beggar’s bowl and continue along the path, past the first bank of dunes, to my cottage near the cove.
It’s not the first home I’ve had since I was banished from court and exiled from my father’s house. I’ve lived in many cities, towns, and villages. I even tried living on a farm once, but it didn’t suit me. A vineyard might be more my style.
No matter where I choose to live, my father always seems to know that I’ve moved. He tracks me magically somehow, and though I dislike the invasion of my privacy, I tolerate it becausehe sends me a stipend each quarter—enough to cover some of my living expenses. It’s his way of apologizing for my exile.
When I need more money, I craft batches of tonics and sell them to local herbalists under an assumed name, Enwen of Bain. I even disguise myself using a gray wig and a temporary aging spell, so no one can connect sweet old Enwen with the disgraced daughter of the Supreme Sorcerer.
The tonics I make have mild magical properties. I’m most skilled at concocting sedatives, contraceptives, pain relievers, fever reducers, energy enhancers, or curatives for infection. They aid with health and recovery, but they do not heal. Healing wounds and illnesses outright is beyond my power.
My work with tonics is a compromise with myself. I’m using my magic to survive, but I’m not selling my services to the highest bidder. It’s a concession I’m willing to live with, a relaxing of my ideals. I’m no longer the naïve girl of eighteen who thought she could perform a miracle for her best friend.
Miracles are just nightmares in disguise.
When I reach my cottage, I set down my packet of food and inspect the earrings I bought. They’re beautiful, designed in the style of the Southern Kingdoms. It makes sense that they would appeal to me strongly, I suppose. After all, my father’s ancestors hailed from the south.
I chose the town of Devil’s Kiss partly for its name and partly because of its proximity to Elekstan’s southern border. I’ve considered venturing across that border into my ancestral lands, but there’s a vast desert to be navigated if I travel that way, and the idea of so much blistering wasteland is far from appealing. I like my comforts.
The cock spell doesn’t take long to perform, and I spend the rest of the evening packing up a few necessities in case I have to leave in a hurry tomorrow. Once I manage to get my travel trunk closed, I carry it out to the smaller of the two stables on the property.
My horse Vedra snorts in annoyance when she sees me checking the wheels of the little cart that I use for long-distance travel. She knows exactly what’s coming—another move.
“It isn’t my fault, really,” I tell her. “Trust me, this asshole asked for it. And it’s about time I made an example of someone. People are starting to forget that I’m not a person they should ask for magical help. They’ve forgotten all about the incident with the chickens.”
Vedra blows out a disgruntled breath, as if to say thatshehasn’t forgotten that particular event, and she still disapproves.
“That innkeeper and his wife deserved it,” I say. “They were both so rude to me and to others who needed shelter that night. A dose of public humiliation served them right. Turning their chickens into rats was not an easy task, but the result was really quite satisfying. I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Vedra eyes me reproachfully.
