Chapter 7
Rylana worked through much of the dinner hour, catching up on the books in between helping Rolf, Gniknik, and Zalani, but she washed up and donned her new dress before the service was over.
“I’m going to the wine club to gather intelligence about our mercurial landlord,” she said when she leaned into the kitchen.
She didn’t expect Jildarin to object since they’d discussed it earlier, and he didn’t want to lose the building any more than she did, but she always felt guilty when she left during a busy time.
Dressed in a tidy white chef’s coat and black trousers, he looked up from stirring, chopping, and adding ingredients to a stockpot. “You will inform me if the landlord requires incineration.”
“I’ve already got someone else volunteering to throttle him, but I’ll come back and let you know if your services are needed.”
Jildarin sighed. “Alas, you jest. Such activities may not be performed in Tranquility.”
“Alas.”
He looked her up and down. Rylana resisted the urge to step in and twirl to model the dress for him. He probably thought the attire impractical—she herself felt the keen loss of her pockets.
“That color is not unappealing,” Jildarin said.
“The gnome tailor called it dusky sage.”
“It is similar to silver, which is a superior and satisfying hue.”
“And which happens to be the color of your scales?”
“Most satisfying. My brother and I were the only two silver-scaled dragons in our clutch, and his scales are more of a dark gray. Mine are like the precious metal used in jewelry making and gleam in the sun.”
“Your scales are quite nice.” Rylana had thought his hereditary dragon vanity mostly revolved around his cooking skills. Who knew he was proud of his looks?
“Yes,” Jildarin said agreeably, then pointed his spoon at her.
“Do not forget my warning. Consume or imbibe nothing that my brother gives you. When it comes to females that he desires, he cannot be trusted. He schemes.” Jildarin shifted the spoon to point at his stockpot which was presumably simmering with the soup Zilek had requested.
“I don’t think he desires me. If anything, he’s going to be disappointed that I couldn’t get Sylin to come tonight. I’m going to leave now and hope to arrive and question Aztor or his wife before Zilek shows up.”
“His presence will not be required to gain entry?” Jildarin returned the spoon to the soup and stirred it.
“I’m hoping the wine conclave doesn’t have a bouncer at the door.”
“Perhaps you should take your bow.”
“My bow that’s tied with a tranquility ribbon that precludes it being strung?”
“As we’ve discussed before, a bow stave can be employed as a blunt weapon.”
“I think clubbing the patrons of a wine club is frowned upon and may make it difficult for me to chat up the people I need answers from.” Rylana turned toward the hallway but noticed Jildarin looking at her dress again.
Was it possible he found more than the color appealing?
Though the flowing material didn’t reveal a lot of bare skin, it hugged her breasts and hips nicely, accentuating them the way her typical trousers and tunics did not.
Even if Jildarin didn’t believe in recreational mating and such things rarely tempted dragons, he was a human male at the moment.
Wasn’t it possible shape-shifting into that form brought its biological urges and imperatives along with it?
“Do you want to come with me tonight?” Rylana caught herself asking.
She would much rather go on a date with Jildarin than his brother.
“For incineration?”
“No, for company.”
Jildarin tilted his head, his brow wrinkling slightly.
“Also, having a dragon along might help with the questioning of the landlord,” Rylana added, though she believed she might have better luck getting information without him looming beside her.
Even in his human form, Jildarin could be intimidating, especially when he grew peeved and his powerful magic seemed to seep out along with his irritation.
“I’d planned to finish the dinner service and then practice mushroom dishes to draw the elven queen.” Jildarin walked closer to her, glancing at the front of her dress.
Rylana flushed with warmth, wanting his gaze upon her, maybe his hand upon her. And his lips, though she reminded herself that he hadn’t done anything the time she’d kissed him.
“I am not,” Jildarin added, “certain how close the flavor profile of an enchanted morel is to a normal morel, so I’m a little perplexed on how to approach the task until I’ve sampled one.
I was trying to find tasting notes in the elven cookbook that mentioned them, but until one has touched a food to one’s tongue… ” He lifted a hand toward her.
Rylana froze, not wanting to move, lest she distract him from doing… whatever he meant to do. Touch her?
He brushed his fingers over her shoulder, stroking the fabric of the dress. “This material has a soft and silky texture that is appealing.”
“Yeah,” she whispered, her voice almost a croak as a zing of pleasure swept through her.
Her shoulder wasn’t what she wanted him to touch, but even that little brush felt good.
It made her body heat with awareness. She hadn’t been with a man since Maverick had passed, and she hadn’t realized she missed it, that her body was primed with longing, with the desire to be touched.
And was his gaze drifting toward her chest again? “I—”
“Rylana?” Zalani called down the hallway.
Jildarin stepped back and lowered his hand, as if he’d been caught doing something inappropriate. What a silly thought. Dragons didn’t believe they ever did anything inappropriate.
But were his cheeks slightly pink? No, that had to be her imagination. She’d never seen Jildarin blush.
“There’s a carriage here for you.” Zalani sounded puzzled. “Is your wine date starting already?”
“I’m not sure, but…” Rylana cleared her throat. Her voice had gone strangely husky. “I was planning to walk.”
“A carriage?” Jildarin asked.
“The coachman isn’t an elf, right?” Rylana headed for the front window, wanting to look out before committing to opening the door.
She wasn’t expecting anyone and, with their queen now in Tranquility, the elves might have decided to renew their interest in interrogating her to learn Sylin’s whereabouts.
“The driver is a dwarf who came in looking for you.” Zalani pointed to a broad-shouldered, red-bearded, four-foot-tall male standing by the front door. He wore a plum-colored frock coat and top boots while carrying a silk hat under his arm.
“Lady Rylana Avandar?” he rumbled in a deep voice, inclining his head and pointing toward the door.
“Yes.” Rylana looked out the window to a gilded magic-powered carriage with a golden dragon emblazoned on the door.
“That is my brother’s conveyance,” Jildarin said from behind her shoulder. “Horses are too alarmed by mighty predators to pull even a shape-shifted dragon inside a carriage, so he purchased a mechanical construct.”
“Oh. I guess I won’t be able to beat him to the wine club then.”
With the dwarf holding the door for her, Rylana walked outside. Twilight was creeping over the city, the air cooling for the evening. As she draped her new shawl around her shoulders, she admitted that purchasing a few accessories hadn’t been a bad idea.
The carriage door opened, and Zilek stepped out wearing a dark swallow-tail cloak, waistcoat, and breeches.
“Ah, lady bookkeeper, you are much improved without the pockets.” He smirked and bowed to her, then noticed Jildarin had come out as well and twitched an eyebrow. “Did my brother compliment you on your beauty? Or did he fail to notice what’s been cloaked beneath your masculine apparel?”
Jildarin scowled.
“Hello, Zilek,” Rylana decided to ignore the question. “I wasn’t expecting you to pick me up.”
“I would never make a female companion walk like a homeless nomad wandering the city. Speaking of companions…” Zilek looked around, oblivious or indifferent to Jildarin’s ongoing scowl.
“Is the elf arriving soon? I pine to see what she looks like in a dress. Perhaps she would be as appealing to admire as the lady Layothlee, should she wear attire more suited to the curves of the female body.”
“I know she regularly aches to be admired by men,” Rylana murmured.
When Zilek’s gaze returned to her, she raised her voice to say, “I regret to inform you that the elves are still seeking Sylin out, so she can’t come tonight, but she did say she would share coffee with you after the queen departs if you desire.
” Rylana pointed across the street at Sylin’s favorite destination.
“Ah? I suppose that would be acceptable.”
Fortunately, Zilek didn’t appear upset. She’d felt guilty about promising and then not producing Sylin, though she’d also felt guilty about using her friend to procure an invitation. It was for the good of the diner, she’d told herself.
“I’ve already got one alluring companion to keep me entertained tonight.” Smiling, Zilek stepped forward and reached for her, aiming for a target lower than her shoulder. Her waist?
Rylana tensed, feeling that too intimate and inclined to swat his hand away.
Jildarin stepped in front of her first, catching Zilek’s wrist before he made contact.
“You will not touch my partner,” Jildarin stated.
“Relax, my brother,” Zilek said. “As I’ve informed you, I’m respecting your wishes and will not do Aunt Lysilria’s bidding of slaying her.”
“Slaying is not currently what is in your thoughts,” Jildarin said. “You seek to mate with Rylana.”
“Well, certainly that came to mind as soon as she stepped outside in that dress,” Zilek said easily.
“I’ve no doubt she would find an evening with me rousing and memorable.
She could even sleep in my bed afterward, not on the cement floor of a storeroom.
It could be a rewarding night for her for many reasons. ”
“No,” Jildarin said.