Chapter 11 #3
A moment later, the great silver-scaled Jildarin came into view, wings spreading as he slowed to land on the trunk, his talons curled around the edge.
A few barnacles flicked free as he shifted to gaze through the window, straight at Rylana’s father, though he spotted her too.
He looked at her with his intent emerald eyes, and his tail swished a couple of times. Did he appear… pleased?
Indignant barks came from the kennel. Jildarin roared, a great reverberating sound that probably traveled miles across the lake and up and down the shoreline. The barks stopped. Jildarin swished his tail again.
“He found it,” Father breathed.
“What is it?” Rylana asked.
“The first cargo I lost after taking over what was then a much smaller business from your grandfather, the gods protect his soul. I was mortified and felt like such a failure. I, ahem.” He glanced at Rylana and Sylin, maybe reminded that he had witnesses, one of whom was a stranger.
“Not a failure—as long as you learn from mistakes, they’re valuable and grant wisdom—but it certainly wasn’t a good first year for me.
I’d gotten an excellent deal with a new insurer in the city and talked Grandfather into letting me expand our business by buying a couple of armored ironclads that were supposed to be unsinkable.
That allowed us to promote the ability to carry far more valuable cargoes than timber, textiles, crops, and the like.
But the first winter, a storm drove the Iron Juggernaut off course, and it struck an iceberg and sank with a chest full of gold and jewels that were mined near Agajen’s Contested Colonies.
I had to collect on the insurance scant months after getting it, and our company had a black mark with all the insurers in Tranquility for years afterward.
I need to see if he found the right chest.” Father ran for the back door.
Rylana scraped her fingers through her hair, not sure what to think. “This is the most my father’s ever opened up to me. I’d never even heard about that loss.”
Maybe that was understandable since she and her brother would have been kids at the time—Grandfather had passed not that many years after her mother. But she couldn’t remember her father ever admitting that he’d suffered failures or had been anything but the perfect entrepreneur.
“Perhaps your new dragon relationship will mend the wounds in your family,” Sylin said.
Rylana frowned at her, then strode to the back door. By the time she reached the yard, Jildarin had hopped off the chest and stood in his human form before her father.
If Father had said anything like, “Thanks for finding and fishing this huge and heavy load out of the wreck at the bottom of the sea,” Rylana had missed it.
He’d already bypassed Jildarin to drop to his knees in front of the trunk. He tried to chip away barnacles to reveal the lock, but it had long since fused with rust and grime.
“Are you all right?” Rylana asked when Jildarin’s gaze swung to her.
He didn’t appear injured, but now that he was in his human form, she could read fatigue in the bags under his eyes and the slump to his shoulders.
If he’d not only flown out to the ocean since lunch but found and carried this heavy load back, she could understand that.
And he’d been out late the night before on another errand for her father.
Rylana reached out and gripped Jildarin’s arm, wanting him to know that she appreciated him doing all this. And she wanted to tell him again that he didn’t have to do it, but she was reluctant to blurt all that with her father kneeling two feet away.
“I am well,” Jildarin said. “It was only a flight of three hundred miles to the Iceberg Sea and the landmarks your father gave me.”
“Only. How did you get that off the bottom of the ocean?”
“Magic,” Jildarin said simply. “It did require some mental effort.”
“And how’d you carry it back?”
“With physical effort.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Can you open this?” Father looked at Jildarin.
Rylana gave him an exasperated glower. Hadn’t Jildarin done enough? Couldn’t Father go get a chisel and hammer?
“The contents belong to you?” Jildarin asked him, glancing at Rylana.
Did he want to make sure he wasn’t enriching her father with someone else’s long-lost treasure? It was probably a little late to question him about that. If that was what was on Jildarin’s mind, he didn’t voice it.
“Well, since the insurance company paid out all those years ago, the contents will belong to it. I’d like to verify that this is what I think it is before I have it toted to their office.”
“Very well.” Jildarin leaned his hand onto the top of the trunk near the lock. He grimaced as he called upon his magic again—with mental effort, no doubt.
Heat radiated from the trunk, and Father stepped back. Rylana let go of Jildarin and also moved away, half-expecting the iron of the trunk to melt—or the barnacles to burst into flames. Were barnacles flammable? Probably not.
The lock was all that disintegrated under Jildarin’s heat. It broke, the grimy pieces falling into the grass. With physical effort, Jildarin gripped the lid and lifted it. One of the old hinges also broke.
Amid worn wooden boxes and deteriorated cloth bags, gold bars were stacked inside under a film of marine growth from water that had seeped in over the years. Seeing all the gold and knowing how much the stuff weighed, Rylana gaped at Jildarin.
“You carried that three hundred miles? You must be exhausted.”
“I could use a short rest before preparations must begin for the dinner meal.” Jildarin grimaced again, probably wanting a long rest and for someone else to handle those preparations.
Rylana wished she had a knack for cooking.
Zalani wasn’t half bad and usually finished off meals that he’d already started when he had to leave early, but she didn’t have any formal culinary training and hadn’t ever suggested she wanted it.
She much preferred interacting with guests—especially cute male guests—to slaving away in the kitchen.
“You’re magnificent,” she whispered to Jildarin.
“I am a dragon,” he said, as if that explained everything.
“Quite a handy dragon.” Father rose and brushed off his hands.
“Handiness is a trait you find desirable in a male who will court your daughter, yes?” Jildarin asked him.
“Yes, he does,” Rylana said before Father could answer. “All of your traits are desirable, and he thanks you for the great tasks you’ve done for him. Also, he thinks you should date me now. Promptly.”
“Really,” Father said dryly.
With hopeful eyes, Jildarin grasped Rylana’s hand and looked at him. “You will now give me your blessing?”
Damn it, why did his opinion matter to Jildarin? All because of that stupid book?
“Yes,” Rylana said.
Father arched his eyebrows at her. “I will heavily consider it. I am not unappreciative of what you’ve done thus far, but you understand that I want Rylana to marry a human and have human babies who can grow up to take their place in the family business.”
Her fists clenching, Rylana’s fantasy of shooting Father in the butt returned. Maybe she could at least punch him. He deserved a good punching.
“Yes, you have said this, but you’ve implied…” Jildarin looked at her, then back to Father. “You’ve implied that if I suitably prove myself, you will give permission for us to…”
“Date,” Rylana said. “And you don’t need his permission. Also, I’m not marrying anyone, human or otherwise, right now, so babies aren’t a concern.”
Father’s jaw tightened, his gaze exasperated when he looked at her.
Bongs came from the front gate, the estate’s security system.
“The peacekeepers are here,” Zames called from inside the castle.
Jildarin looked in the direction of the ferry dock—the pillar. It had stopped alarming when he’d shifted back into his human form, but two uniformed gnomes jogged around the corner of the castle to check on them.
“I’ll deal with them.” Father nodded at Jildarin, as if he were doing a grand favor, and walked toward the peacekeepers.
“I should have punched him,” Rylana muttered.