Chapter 14
By three hours past dawn, Rylana had balanced the books, ordered supplies for the week, located Jildarin's landlord and paid the back rent, and sold another of the surplus ovens. With all that accomplished, she felt justified in slipping into the coffee shop across the street for a break.
She hadn’t woken hungover or experienced any ill effects from the dragon spices—if anything she’d felt alert and invigorated—but she had been embarrassed by her antics the night before. Had she really flung herself at Jildarin and kissed him? Yes… and she’d wanted to do a lot more than that.
That morning, she’d avoided making eye contact with him, and he, fortunately, hadn’t said anything about the night before, other than waving toward the table in the back of the kitchen when she’d passed through.
Two of the place settings had been cleared, but her dishes remained by the numbered cloches, the charcoal stick pointedly lying atop the butcher paper.
Amused, or maybe bemused, that her opinion mattered to him, she’d done her best to remember all the meals and write down ratings.
Everything had been delicious so she didn’t give any of them less than an eight.
She’d thought about pretending the soup hadn’t existed, but its cloche did have a number, so he’d doubtless expected a rating.
When she’d caught him peering over at her while tending a frying pan, she’d written a ten, then underlined it and left three exclamation points.
She’d thought about circling it with a heart as well, but that would have reminded him of her foolish behavior.
She would prefer if they both forgot about that.
It was difficult though. As she sipped from her cup, enjoying a potent double-shot mocha, Rylana kept thinking of the night before.
Even though Jildarin had, before pushing her away, stood unresponsive in the seconds that her lips had been pressed to his, and even though he’d assured her that dragons didn’t mate for recreational purposes, her thoughts kept returning to him.
Being close to him hadn’t been… unpleasant.
“Ridiculous,” she murmured.
“Your beverage?” Sylin slid the chair on the opposite side of the table away so that she could stand there and lean her shoulder against the wall.
“No, my mocha is delicious. Those elves from yesterday are looking for you, and I think they know what your occupation in the war was.”
“And what it remains.” Sylin lifted a finger toward the half-gnome girl waiting tables.
“You didn’t take a new job, did you? Not here, right? In Tranquility?” Rylana hadn’t expected her comrade to swear off assassinations forever—it was what she’d trained her whole adult life to do, after all—but it wouldn’t be a wise career to pursue in the city of peace. Enforced peace.
“One must remain useful.” Sylin smiled enigmatically, then ordered a large coffee and laid a gleaming gold coin on the table.
“I like your friends,” the girl told Rylana with enthusiasm, sweeping up the coin and trotting away.
“You got paid already for the job, I’m guessing,” Rylana said.
“I did. Though it wasn’t my usual type of assignment, I did learn that there’s more work for assassins available here than you might think. The inability to challenge adversaries to duels and pursue vigilante justice leaves a lot of people craving satisfaction. Some have financial means.”
“I don’t need details. I’m retiring from the satisfaction-providing business.”
“You’re certain? Outside of the city boundaries, you could remove the tranquility ribbon and unleash your bow.”
“If I take it out of the city, it’ll only be to hunt, maybe to find some unique meat to challenge Jildarin to incorporate into one of his dishes.” Rylana smiled at the thought of thunking down a raccoon or squirrel on his cutting board. But would those challenge someone who smoked glowing eels?
Sylin raised her eyebrows. “Is he paying you for your work yet?”
“Only in food. And tips.”
“Do bookkeepers receive tips?”
“I haven’t yet, but I may if I’m more aggressive about requesting them. Judging by his jingling purse last night, our goblin server does well for himself.”
“You at least receive free board, right? I checked the room in the tavern, and you hadn’t been by.”
“I had to work late last night. It was easier to sleep in the storeroom again.” In the storeroom shared with Jildarin, though once he’d turned into his silver dragon form, her thoughts had grown less sex-centered, and she’d fallen asleep wondering who might be trying to get him out of the city.
Or maybe out of the cooking competition?
“Dragon adjacent?” Sylin smirked.
“Separated by the piles of crates and ovens.”
“Since elves are looking for me, I’m going to be scarce for a while.
” Sylin waited while her coffee was delivered, with the half-gnome cheerfully introducing herself as Vilma and complimenting her lush green hair, before continuing.
“I only came to see if you want to use the room or if I should let the establishment know it’s available now.
” Sylin sipped from the mug, then almost purred a contented, “Ahhhh,” as she closed her eyes in appreciation.
“That’s the only reason you came?”
“The coffee is excellent.”
“I probably should move my things to the room. Sleeping on a cement floor isn’t that comfortable, and Jildarin… Well, he hasn’t given me any indication that he wants company in his lair.”
“Does he still call you my enemy and squint suspiciously at you on an hourly basis?”
“Not hourly.” Rylana wished she could say that he was no longer suspicious of her at all, but she remembered him checking her hands for weapons when her intent had been amorous, not murderous.
“Someone’s after him, too, by the way. He has a reason to be on edge, a bigger reason than the memory of my arrow gouging his temple.
Judging by the quality or lack thereof of the graffiti last night, it probably isn’t the elves who are after him.
I don’t think your people could draw something crude if they tried. ”
“Elves are rarely crude in any art form.”
“I’m thinking of trying to help Jildarin by figuring out who wants him out of the city and the Golden Whisk.
I doubt he’ll tell me the names of his competitors though.
Even if he did, I’m not sure how I would investigate them.
Show up at their kitchens and ask questions?
” Rylana pulled out the folded piece of newspaper with Yerin’s review that she’d kept from the day before.
She’d meant to share it with Jildarin but had forgotten to during the busyness of the evening.
Now, she spread it on the table and tapped it thoughtfully.
“I wonder if Yerin would give me a list of the competitors. I told you we were neighbors when I was growing up, right? We weren’t exactly friends, but I know his family and where he lives. ”
Rylana grimaced at the idea of taking the ferry to the west side of the lake and being that close to her family’s castle.
What if her father saw her? What would she say?
And what would he think if she blurted that she hadn’t come, after the years without communication of any kind, to see him but to check in with a neighbor?
Rylana rubbed her face. If she intended to stay in Tranquility, sooner or later, she would have to visit him, but she would prefer to put it off until later.
Sylin turned the review around so that she could read it. “It looks like he enjoyed the food. Maybe he would want to keep a fine dragon chef in the city.”
“Yeah. Like you pointed out, it says something about Yerin’s character that he wrote a good review, right? When you suggested he was honorable, I was skeptical, but maybe he grew into a decent guy.”
“I merely said that might be the case, but I don’t know him. Nor did my bicycle suffer the affliction that yours did.”
“I don’t imagine there were many bicycles in the woods with the wolves.”
“Very few.” Sylin took another sip, made another contented noise, and looked around.
“I hope the elves will forget about me soon. I’d intended to stay in Tranquility for a while before moving on, to make sure you’re able to settle in, naturally.
” She picked up one of several cookies that had come with her cup, more than typical, doubtless due to the generous tip.
“Did you become especially interested in staying long enough to ensure I settle in after you discovered this coffee shop?”
“Oh, yes.”
They sipped their drinks in silence for a few moments, and Rylana perused the newspaper review for a second time.
Sylin alternated between closing her eyes in appreciation as she savored her coffee and peering toward the windows and doors to make sure no enemies were sneaking up on her.
Since her hood was down, her dark green hair would stand out to anyone peering in.
Even among elves, it was a rare hue. Rylana knew her comrade wore head and face coverings when she worked, so anyone who glimpsed her wouldn’t easily identify her, but thought it wouldn’t be a bad idea for her to keep her face hidden even when she was sipping coffee.
“He didn’t mention any of the ingredients, at least in the review.” Rylana recalled that Yerin had been scribbling guesses into his notes when she’d walked up to his table.
“Hm?” Sylin asked.
“At the time, I thought he might be writing down ingredients so that he could include them in his review, but this only talks about tastes and the dining experience. Do you think Yerin might have opted to critique the diner as an excuse to scout the competition for the Golden Whisk?”
“The Golden what?”