Chapter 1 #2
Not long ago, Rylana had endured an awkward coffee date with Lord Gavin Avandar.
It had been her first time sitting down to speak with her father in seventeen years—not that she’d had many earnest sit-down conversations with him before that.
He’d only been open to speaking after learning she’d given up the mercenary lifestyle and was putting some of her academic skills to use, but he’d been underwhelmed by her choice to work in a diner.
Several times, he’d tried to steer her toward the idea of coming to work in the family shipping business.
Even though it had been right after Jildarin had won the vaunted Golden Whisk contest, Father hadn’t considered that good enough for a scion of their exalted family.
“I refer to my mother, who continues to send word to my brother that it’s my duty as a male of the clan to mate with numerous well-blooded female dragons.
As I’ve told you, since many of our kind fell during the Ore War, she wants to ensure that we repopulate our species.
” Though he’d made her partner and admitted he appreciated her, Jildarin couldn’t keep from slanting a dark look at Rylana, doubtless reminded that they’d not only been enemies during the war but that one of her arrows had carved the gouge that had left him with a scar near his eye.
“Parents can be difficult,” was all Rylana said, deciding they’d made enough progress in their relationship that she didn’t need to be affronted by the look. After all, it had been weeks since he’d referred to her as my enemy. That was progress.
“Yes.” Jildarin nodded in firm agreement and resumed vigorous chopping.
“At least my father is away on a business trip for the next month, so I don’t have to worry about him renewing his pressure on me for a time.”
“My mother is leading the young dragons in the clan on a hunt in the scrublands and savannas east of the Skyfang Mountains to teach them how to locate, catch, and eviscerate the aberrant and aggressive—but also delicious—enchanted rhinoceros.”
“We practically have the same lives.”
“Their horns and legendary magic make them dangerous.”
Rylana assumed he referred to the rhinos, not the female dragons, but she would put them in a similar category.
“My father’s wealth, powerful contacts, and ability to exude disdain make him dangerous,” she offered. “He’s not even enchanted.”
Before Jildarin could respond to that, the wheeled dish-collection contraption rolled through the swinging door and into the kitchen, the bin on top filled with dirty plates, mugs, and bowls. Gniknik, the black-haired, bare-footed gnome server ambled in after.
“The two elves who ordered the pan-seared-portobello and hedgehog-mushroom dish would like to see the bookkeeper who battled their kind during the war.” Gniknik looked at Rylana and raised his bushy eyebrows.
“I’m not seeing any elves,” she said.
Lately, when she’d run into their aloof kind in the city, they’d wanted to question her about her elven comrade, Sylin, a fellow former mercenary and an assassin who’d gone on missions against her own kind during the war.
The elves in Tranquility were supposedly as sworn to peace and getting along with other species as everyone else, but that hadn’t kept them from wanting to question Rylana about Sylin’s location.
“I told them the bookkeeper is usually busy running numbers in the back or making purchases for the restaurant and isn’t available,” Gniknik said.
“Thank you. You’re a good gnome.”
“I am, yes, but one of the elves grabbed me by the shirtfront and grew unsettlingly aggressive.” Gniknik touched the overalls he wore, tools sticking out of the pockets.
“That doesn’t sound like typical elven behavior,” Rylana said, “nor does one expect aggressive actions from the kinds of people who order fried mushrooms as their main course.”
“I don’t think food preferences have a lot to do with behavior,” Gniknik said. “Unless of course one is consuming soup that’s been treated with magical dragon spices.”
“I don’t know,” Rylana said. “Some preferences give you a bit of a hint about character. For example, I’d expect someone who makes a meal of eviscerated enchanted rhinoceroses to be dangerous.”
Jildarin reduced the flame heating his soup and walked toward the door. “You will show me to the elves. I will let them know that using threatening behavior toward my employees is not acceptable.”
Gniknik nodded in relief and led the way toward the dining room.
Rylana bit her lip, tempted to remain in the kitchen while Jildarin dealt with the elves, but if she avoided them here, they might wait outside for her to leave the diner. And if she had to worry about a new threat, it would be better to learn about it with a powerful dragon by her side.
After bracing herself, she walked out behind him.
A male and a female elf in leather armor, muddy boots, and with their green-streaked blond hair back in ties had left their table and stood with their arms folded across their chests.
They wore bows and quivers across their backs and had swords in scabbards on their belts.
Even though magical tranquility ribbons were knotted in such a way that they couldn’t draw those weapons, Rylana tensed.
A memory came to mind of elven soldiers leaping out at her squad in the steamy southern jungle.
Blood had flowed as weapons found flesh, the ambush turning into a deadly skirmish that only she and three others had survived.
For a moment, the memory was so intense that she didn’t see the diner around her, only the claustrophobic jungle, and she had to grip the edge of the bar, willing reality to return.
She was back in the north, the cool spring air outside and temperate climate around Luminous Lake a reminder that she’d left the war far behind.
The elves acknowledged Jildarin with respectful nods, but their cool gray eyes locked onto Rylana immediately.
Since entering the city, she’d crossed paths with several of their kind—one pair had tried to grab her and take her to their enclave for questioning—but these were the first who looked like they might be fresh from a battle.
Further, with golden-brown skin, they were more similar to their kin in the south than to the lighter-hued northern elves.
Might they have traveled up especially to look for Sylin?
Or even for Rylana? She hadn’t been an assassin, but her arrows had killed enemies as surely as Sylin’s blades had.
“They didn’t leave a tip, Chef Jildarin,” Rolf said from the booth where the elves had apparently dined, only a few smears of a light-brown sauce remaining on the plates that had held their mushroom dishes.
“That is not what brought me from the kitchen,” Jildarin said, barely glancing at the goblin. “If you elves found the food adequate, you will depart. You will not accost any of my staff. You will certainly not lay fingers upon them.” He looked back at Gniknik, who’d stayed in the hallway to watch.