Chapter 7
“I’ll have to pick up groceries tomorrow,” Rylana told Jildarin when he leaned into the office at the end of the dinner shift.
The cashbox sat open in front of her, and she was counting and recording the revenue in the logbook.
“We had as many visitors today as the day after you won the Golden Whisk. So far, business isn’t dwindling. ”
“The food is excellent,” Jildarin stated, “and those who eat it return and also tell others to come.”
“Yeah, word-of-mouth works wonders. Let’s hope no irate dragons come and rip the heads off your customers.”
Jildarin grimaced. During the day, they’d both been busy and hadn’t spoken of Zilek’s warning. Rylana wished she hadn’t brought it up and lifted an apologetic hand.
“It is unlikely that Mother would target bystanders when her issue is with me,” Jildarin said.
And possibly me, Rylana thought but didn’t say out loud. To think, she’d been feeling guilty that the elves were after Sylin while ignoring her. Now, she might have a dragon after her. That was even worse than having all the members of the elven enclave loitering in the area.
“Unlikely but not impossible?” Rylana asked.
“When dragons are vexed, they can lash out at all around. Should I sense my mother approaching, I will go out to meet her beyond the boundaries of the city.” Jildarin met her eyes, his emerald orbs striking, even in the dim light of the lanterns.
“Do not be concerned about my brother’s comments.
I will ensure that my mother does not target you. ”
“Thank you.” It touched Rylana that he’d caught that part of the conversation and cared enough to offer reassurance.
Sometimes, he was so focused on his work that he didn’t seem aware of anything going on around him.
And, even if he wasn’t nearly as pompous and dismissive as his brother, he didn’t seem that concerned about the affairs of lesser species.
She wasn’t even sure he knew the names of his employees since he so often referred to them as the half-elf, the goblin, and the gnome.
“I’m almost done here.” Rylana closed the cashbox and pulled out a piece of paper with a list of ingredients that she’d noted as low when she’d done a pantry inventory earlier.
“You will sleep here tonight.”
“Is that an order or a question?” she asked dryly.
“I do not know when my mother will arrive, or if she will truly come, but many elves are about, seeking your comrade, and they know that you are seen frequently in her wake.”
“So, you want me to sleep here for safety reasons? Not because you pined last night in my absence?”
“My new business partner with plans to expand the seating area must be kept alive for the good of the diner, and few dare step into the lair of a dragon at night.”
“So you pined a lot.” Rylana grinned at him.
Jildarin squinted at her.
“I missed you too,” she offered. “I had to sleep in a bed with a mattress last night. It was dreadful.”
“You are being sarcastic.”
“I am. Sorry. It’s in my nature.” Rylana also didn’t want to be serious and admit that she had thought of him the night before and had felt a twinge of loneliness.
Besides, it had been a silly emotion. It wasn’t as if he spoke to her, either as a human or telepathically as a dragon, once they went back to the storeroom to sleep.
He simply lay there in his great scaled form, barely fitting between the crates, kegs, and flour sacks, while she was tucked away in the corner, the floor hard under her back as she looked up at the high beamed ceiling in the darkness.
Jildarin leaned back, as if he would depart but instead rested a hand on the doorframe and watched as she wrote.
She didn’t mind his presence but wondered what kept him.
The running of water in the kitchen promised Zalani or one of the other employees was still cleaning up, and a few voices in the dining room meant that not all the guests had departed for the night.
Rylana distinctly heard Rolf mentioning goblin tips.
“I won the Golden Whisk,” Jildarin stated, “the contest that preoccupied my thoughts and kept me preparing for weeks—no, months.”
“Yes?” Rylana set down her pen and raised her eyebrows.
“I plan to enter again next year, but… at the moment, I am without a challenge. Preparing for the contest gave me a goal and purpose. Now, I am thinking with dread of my mother’s visit, which may not even happen. I would prefer to have another challenging culinary quest to embark on.”
“Are there any interim contests that would be worth entering and training for?” Rylana was pleased that he was confiding in her, speaking to her as if she were a friend instead of a former enemy—or, almost worse, a servant. She only wished she had useful advice to give him.
“Not of the same scale of importance as the Golden Whisk. Perhaps I will consider entering one.” Jildarin waved without commitment, no sparkle in his eyes at the prospect.
“How are you with carpentry?” Rylana smiled, knowing that wasn’t the kind of goal that would draw him but added, “I’ve never built outdoor dining structures, but I’ll wager it could be challenging.”
“I assumed you would hire a minion to renovate the rooftop.”
“We would save money by doing it ourselves.”
“Is coin still of concern?” Jildarin eyed the books.
“You’ve sold all but three of the surplus gnomish commercial ovens and have done calculations to ensure menu prices properly reflect the cost of ingredients.
” His eyelids drooped. “You aren’t going to bring up salaries again, are you?
The employees are tipped most generously, especially now that the patronage is so much increased. ”
“I suppose we could hire them to build the seating area. Goblins are handy, after all. Or maybe handsy.”
“I believe you are teasing me.”
“Yeah. But I’ll keep my ears open in case I hear anyone discussing culinary opportunities that could present a dragon with a suitable challenge.”
“Good. Do so.” Jildarin turned but paused and didn’t leave the doorway. His gaze halfway between her and the hall, he said, “Do you believe I should succumb to my familial duties and mate with Loxvonla and Foxvonla?”
“No.”
“No?” Jildarin looked back at her, his head tilting. “Because you desire me yourself?”
“No, because those bitchy sisters tried to light me on fire.”
When he didn’t respond right away, her cheeks warmed. She’d only come on to him one time, and it had been under the influence of his dragon spices, but, for someone who was largely oblivious to sex and innuendos, he was convinced that she wanted him.
“I don’t desire you,” she caught herself adding.
“Dragons are pompous and full of themselves and you’re…
” She waved toward him and groped for words, but what popped into her mind was handsome and actually not as full of yourself as other dragons.
“My partner,” she finally said. “Even if I did desire you, it would be far less fraught and complicated if we kept our relationship professional.”
“Yes,” Jildarin said promptly and with relief.
“In addition to trying to burn me to a cinder,” Rylana said, trying not to feel rejected and unappealing by his relief, “they attacked you. They drew blood.”
“That is common for dragons. Females, in particular, are mercurial and quick to show their fangs.”
“Even with their lovers?”
“Love is a concept unfamiliar to our kind. As I’ve told you before, we rarely form lasting pair-bonds, and we mate for procreation purposes only.”
“Does your brother know that? He’s horny for that elf ballerina, and I doubt he wants her to have his babies.”
“Elves and dragons are too genetically different to have offspring together. As to the rest, Zelik is… quirky.”
“Maybe you’re the quirky one. Maybe other dragons go through life filled with lust and a great urgency to mate all the time.”
Jildarin started to shake his head but paused. “The sisters did display lust and urgency.”
“While they were trying to set me on fire, yes.”
“You’ve brought that up several times.”
“Nearly being incinerated leaves an impression on my kind.”
“You had reason to fear them, but you stayed regardless. To assist me.” Jildarin nodded to her. “That is when I decided you were no longer my enemy.”
“Then I guess it was worth it.”
“Naturally. To have a dragon ally is a great boon.”
“No doubt.” Rylana yawned and put down her pen.
“Do you want to get coffee? Or tea? I guess it’s getting late for something stimulating.
” She didn’t expect Jildarin to accept the invitation but, with Zilek’s warning repeating in her mind, she wanted to check to see if Sylin was in the area and pass along the updates he’d shared.
“You ask me to accompany you for a hot flavored water? Would humans consider that a date?” Jildarin sounded like he was trying to figure out if it would be appropriate for him to go, not that he had no interest in doing so. Maybe he actually liked chatting with her. “Part of a courting ritual?”
“It can be but wouldn’t be in this case.” Rylana pushed her chair under the desk and stepped toward the doorway, though Jildarin still occupied it. “As we’ve established, we’re not interested in courting.”
“Correct.”
“Business partners can get a drink together. I go to the coffee shop with Sylin all the time, and we’re not romantically involved. My ears aren’t the right shape for her.”
His gaze drifted toward the side of her head as he considered her lobes.
“Never mind,” Rylana said. “It was a joke. I like men for my romantic interludes. And Sylin… Well, I’m not all that sure where her preferences lie.”
“I am not interested in that topic.”
“I figured. If you come, we can discuss business.”
“The pergola.”
“Oh, yes. I ache to go over its dimensions and what species of wood would be most appropriate.”
Jildarin nodded. “That will be satisfactory.”