Chapter 18 #3
“The history books may not tell the whole story,” Shalikon said.
“It’s also possible that the horn’s abilities and purpose were forgotten for a time and that it was simply being handed down from generation to generation as an heirloom.
There was some strife and reformation in the Ironhammer Kingdom during that era.
Some books were burned, and knowledge was lost. Maybe King Ekton will know more. You said he’s visiting your diner?”
“To get this, yes.” Rylana held up the horn. “Though Jildarin is planning to make him a special dish. You don’t happen to know his favorite foods, do you?” She asked it lightly, not expecting a half-elf living in Tranquility to have had any interactions with the dwarven king.
But Shalikon laughed and nodded. “He loves rockballs in gravy. I witnessed him eating the dish often when I used to be a diplomat and traveled between the dwarven capital and the elven court. That was before the Ore War. Our two peoples don’t host many of each other’s diplomats now, alas. Too bad. I adore rockballs too.”
“What are rockballs?” Rylana asked. “Are those like meatballs?”
“Yes, but heavier and with more alcohol mixed in.”
“I don’t think meatball recipes usually employ alcohol at all,” Rylana said.
“Hence their inferiority.” Shalikon winked.
“Dwarves enjoy a little ale or bourbon or just about any alcohol, even elven wine, mixed into their meals as well as served in mugs beside it. I think bison might be the base meat I heard the king request most often for his rockballs, but he likes all manner of fish and seafood too. Those are exotic fares to people who live mostly underground lives.”
“I’ll pass that information along to Jildarin.”
“If he makes the dish, feel free to have him send some leftover rockballs up here.” Shalikon touched his chest.
“With a side of bacon,” Chalora added.
Shalikon beamed a smile of approval at her while pulling her hand to his chest. Chalora smiled back at him and stepped closer.
“Thank you for the information,” Rylana said.
Since neither elf nor half-elf answered or were looking at her, she headed for the path they’d taken on the way in. Judging by the warmth of their gazes, Chalora and Shalikon might wander off to enjoy each other’s company in the grove.
“I didn’t know the plant master was of an age to crave garden trysts,” Rylana said as Sylin caught up with her.
“Shalikon’s magic is powerful and a little intriguing,” Sylin said. “Though not quite as much as a dragon’s.”
“You’re not pining for Zilek as we speak, are you?”
“I am not. But I assume you pine hourly for your dragon.”
“At least.” Rylana smiled, only partially joking.
“Maybe when you tell him about the king’s favorite dish, he’ll be moved to ardor.”
“I don’t know. He’s good at restraining himself.
Though he has developed a new fascination for boobs.
That might move things along.” Rylana made the comments in an offhand way, but the memory of Jildarin’s explorations that morning swept into her.
Too bad he was now distracted by researching dwarven meals.
“Your boobs, I trust.”
“Possibly.” Rylana meant her smile to be cryptic—she hadn’t intended to reveal anything of her burgeoning love life with Jildarin.
But Sylin snorted knowingly. “Definitely. I’m surprised he hasn’t already given in to his lust.”
“He’s been busy trying to win my father’s approval.”
“To grope your boobs?”
“To court me,” Rylana said, though Sylin knew the story. She’d been there when Jildarin had dropped the chest on the lawn.
“Something tells me you two are going to give in to your lust before your father grants his blessing.” Sylin looked over her shoulder as they left the gardens and headed toward the arch. The two elves who’d been pretending not to watch them earlier were following them.
“That wouldn’t disappoint me.” Rylana increased her pace.
Sylin did the same.
“Have any elves troubled you lately?” Rylana asked quietly. “Since the queen left?”
“Nobody has attacked me, but as Captain Tassani suggested, I have caught some of their people—the ones aligned with the Shaldona family, I’m sure—keeping an eye on me. Yesterday, I found a magical spying device in the bakery attic and destroyed it, but I’m considering moving out.”
“Since you are who you are, and everyone knows it now, they’ll probably want to keep an eye on you until…” Rylana spread her hand.
“The end of time?” Sylin asked.
“We’ve discussed the unlikelihood of you living that long.”
“Yes, comforting.”
“I’ll bet they wouldn’t dare put a spying device in Zilek’s lair,” Rylana said as they passed under the arch, the same two guards watching them, the one who’d stopped the carriage earlier wearing a cool expression.
“Are you implying I should ask to move in with him?” Sylin asked.
“Ask? All you’d have to do is show up at his door with your favorite knife.”
“And let him grope my boobs?”
“Maybe you won’t mind that as much now that his ears are pointed and he’s flying to the South Pole to hunt a rare mammoth for you.”
“I’m sure he’s not going to do that.”
Rylana arched her eyebrows. “I’m not. If he’s anything like Jildarin, he’ll be quite determined and hardworking once he has a prize in his sights.”
“I don’t think a mammoth haunch counts as a prize.”
“You’re the prize, Princess Sylinesla.”
“I draw a knife every time he ogles me.”
“I know. He likes that.”
Much like the wolves Sylin had been raised by, she bared her teeth and growled.