Chapter 2
As she finished helping the staff with the lunch service, Rylana looked at the clock on the wall, wanting to make sure she was near the coffee shop when Sylin had her date.
She doubted Zilek would present a problem that her elven comrade couldn’t handle, but…
Rylana had arranged the get-together and felt responsible for it going well. Or at least not abysmally wrong.
The clock informed her that almost an hour remained until Sylin’s meeting.
Unlike the tacky timekeeper at the antiques shop, theirs was attractive, branded with the same pyrographic dragon that adorned the front door and the paper-thin wooden lampshades.
The entire diner was tidy and tasteful, with the floor uncluttered, the tables always wiped clean, and not a speck of dust lingering on flat surfaces—or the new plaque that highlighted Very Important Persons who’d eaten at the establishment.
So far, only the elf queen was on the list, but Rylana knew Jildarin aspired to attract more diners of stature.
Smiling, she cleared a few plates and headed to the kitchen. After spending time in the cluttered antiques shop, Rylana appreciated Jildarin’s fastidious nature. Just as she appreciated the heavenly scents that wafted out of the kitchen.
Today, he was serving Lumi Lake Snakehead fillets, cheesy trollthicket shoots, and a beef-and-vegetable stir fry that she’d personally enjoyed before the lunch service began.
She’d also helped herself to a dessert made from leftover waffles and a delicious wild-thimbleberry compote that Jildarin had made during the breakfast hour.
It had all been fantastic, as his food always was.
She had a compliment for him on her lips, but he almost crashed into her as she walked into the kitchen.
With a book tucked under his arm, and his chef’s coat left on a peg, he was on his way out.
He paused to smile at her and step aside, even taking a few of the dirty dishes from her to place in the sink.
That smile made her heart thrum. No, it made her whole body thrum.
With his strong jaw clean-shaven, his emerald eyes bright, his bronze skin free of blemishes—save for the scar she’d given him when they’d been enemies—and his short silver hair tousled from the day’s work, he was as handsome and appealing as ever.
Since he’d admitted that their kiss hadn’t been a mistake, she’d been thinking of it—and him—more often.
At night, lying awake in the bed that he’d bought and added to the storeroom for her, she kept wondering if she should make the next move—and if he would allow it if she did. Since he was inexperienced as far as mating with humans went, she doubted she could rely on him to make a move.
“Are you reading anything good?” Rylana nodded toward the book he held. Weathered and worn, it looked old, and she couldn’t make out the title on the leather-bound cover.
“It is something… informative. On humans.” Jildarin paused, considering her. “I seek to better understand certain aspects of your people’s culture and social practices.”
“If you have questions, you could ask me. I’m practically an expert on being human.”
“Yes, of course.” Jildarin bowed to her but didn’t ask anything, instead heading again for the door. “I am meeting my brother shortly.”
“Before or after his date with Sylin?”
“Before, I believe.” As he walked down the hallway, he added, “I need a little advice.”
“I suggest you don’t ask him about humans,” Rylana called after him. “Trust me!”
Jildarin lifted a hand in acknowledgment but continued through the dining room and out the door.
“Maybe they need to discuss dragonly things,” she said.
Rylana hoped Zilek hadn’t come to warn Jildarin that their mother or aunt was in the area again.
She hadn’t seen them for weeks and wanted that trend to continue.
As far as she knew, his relatives would still prefer it if Rylana were dead rather than being a distraction who was, they believed, keeping Jildarin from wanting to mate with his own kind.
“Dragonly things?" Zalani asked, walking out of the storeroom with a large purse draped over her shoulder.
The twenty-something half-elf wore a pale-blue blouse tucked into a flowing skirt over artsy sandals with straps that wrapped around her feet and ankles like leaf-dotted plant vines. They had to be the work of an elven cordwainer.
“That’s what I assume Jildarin discusses when he gets together with his brother,” Rylana said.
“Zilek doesn’t strike me as the type to listen to him musing on new recipe ideas, flavor profiles, or the woes of finding a proper cleaning agent.
Last night, he told me all about his need for something effective that is also gentle enough not to rub off the enchantment inherent in a gnomish commercial oven. ”
“I don’t think they discuss those things, no,” Zalani said. “Zilek seems preoccupied with sex, wine, and how effectively we lesser species, as he so frequently calls us, serve him.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“He’s pompous, arrogant, smug, and condescending all at once.”
“Yes. Are you still hoping to have sex with him?”
Zalani grinned. “Just once. You know, to see what it’s like. Sex with a dragon.”
“Presumably, he would be in his human form at the time.”
“I think that’s required. Otherwise the, uhm, parts wouldn’t fit together.”
“I wouldn’t imagine so, no. Did your doctor’s appointment go… all right?” Rylana resisted the urge to glance at Zalani’s midsection.
When the half-elf had rushed out that morning, after asking Rylana to cover her shift, she hadn’t said the appointment had anything to do with the possibility of pregnancy or any kind of female concern, but Zalani had mentioned earlier in the week that her menses was late.
Since then, Rylana had caught Zalani worrying her lip between her teeth numerous times, so that might be an ongoing issue.
“It did.” Zalani oozed relief as she tucked her purse into one of the cubbies in the hallway where the employees could store their personal items. “I’m fine.
I mean, I didn’t think I wasn’t, but, er.
” She glanced toward the dining room and lowered her voice before going on.
The murmurs of conversations from a few patrons lingering in the booths were audible, as well as Rolf and Gniknik arguing about whether gnomish dish-collection contraptions could earn tips.
“You remember the hot guy I went home with a couple of times last month?”
“The half-orc?”
“No, I got together with him here.” Zalani’s cheeks reddened as she waved into the kitchen.
That must have been the man she’d been with the day Jildarin had been gone and Rolf had spiked a pot of soup with copious amounts of lust-inspiring dragon spices.
“I’m talking about the exotic singer with the wild hair and the tattoos.
I went to listen to him perform at the tavern and then in his room above the tavern.
Anyway, that’s not important. We had a good time, and you know I always use protection, since I’m not ready to be a mother—I haven’t quite found the one—but that’s not always foolproof, as I’m sure you know. ”
“I’ve had a couple of scares myself, yes.
” Rylana smiled encouragingly at Zalani, but she caught herself glancing toward the front door, curious about what Jildarin and his brother were meeting to speak about.
And what had that book been on? Not recipes.
Jildarin wouldn’t have referred to a cookbook as a resource about humans, even if she supposed recipes could tell a person a lot about a species.
“One typically doesn’t want to have babies while camped on a battlefield in a war zone. ”
“I wouldn’t think so, no. And this diner is almost that stressful at times.”
Rylana wouldn’t say that, but she waved to acknowledge that it could be hectic when things got busy.
“But the doctor checked me out with a medical wand and didn’t sense a child within me.
She also recommended I be more careful in the future, as if I deserved a lecture.
That’s because she didn’t see Horkon and how irresistible he was.
” Zalani clutched a hand to her chest while looking toward the ceiling.
“Anyway, she gave me a contraceptive tea that’s especially effective for elves—made from some herb they grow in their gardens—so I’ll try that.
Just to be sure. She was surprised I’ve visited her a few times about this since elves aren’t the most fecund species.
I’m sure Sylin has told you about that.”
“She mentions her fecundity less than you’d expect.” Rylana patted Zalani, glad things had worked out. “Will you take over for the last few tables? I want to ask Mya about something and possibly spy on a dragon. Maybe two dragons.”
“Of course, but is that wise?”
“Rarely.”
Rylana retrieved the horn from where she’d been storing it for safekeeping—under her bed and tucked into her arrow quiver.
Curious about whether Mya would have any insight into the dwarven artifact, she headed across the street.
Sylin happened to be standing in front of the bakery while eyeing her favorite coffee shop, her expression more one of distaste than her usual adoration.
“Is Zilek already in there?” Rylana guessed.
“I can sense him, yes. Your dragon is with him.” Sylin gave her a sidelong look.
Her hood wasn’t up. She’d been walking about more openly since the queen’s departure—and since making it clear to anyone who would listen that she had no intention of assuming the position as her mother’s heir.
Even so, Rylana didn’t think Sylin should flout her identity around Tranquility.
There might yet be elves from the rival Shaldona family who would target her, ensuring that neither Sylin nor future offspring she might have would end up in Queen Fareesa’s will.
“If they’re still engaged in a conversation when the hour of our supposed date arrives,” Sylin added, “I could leave. If they’re busy discussing important matters…”