Chapter 20 #2
“What is that?” Sylin had been eyeing the sky—doubtless watching for more dragons—as she tied her wet hair back in a ponytail.
One perk of short hair was that it dried quickly and didn’t bother Rylana when it was damp—or, as in the current situation, completely plastered to her head. “The gnomish Whiskmaster.”
“That’s not quite what I imagined. It might be hard to make a croissant in that shape.”
“I would think so. Jildarin and I did discuss that the sacred bread might appeal more to the troll gods if it was in a phallic shape.”
“That’s possible. They reputedly wanted their people to be fruitful and create many more worshippers. If the goblin gods were behind the curse, I would be certain the offering should be suggestive in nature.”
“I think that’s required for their offerings.”
Jildarin spread his wings to glide in and land on the beach, and Rylana let the silly conversation come to an end, though it did occur to her to ask Sylin, “How did you know I would need help tonight? Did you run out here from town?”
“I did. I was enjoying a late-night coffee on the rooftop of the shop, relieved that the elves had departed, when I spotted a dragon breathing fire out on the lake.” Sylin extended her hand toward Jildarin as he shifted forms on the beach.
“I also saw you in the rowboat alone. I didn’t realize right away that it was your ally and thought you might be in danger, so I jogged down to the waterfront.
Then I saw the other dragons approaching and you trying to escape.
I did indeed sprint out of town and in the direction you were rowing. ”
“You had to be running fast to make it in time. I appreciate the effort.”
“A good sprint is excellent for one’s physical fitness and overall muscle health.”
“So, you probably would have sprinted along the lake regardless of the dragon threat.”
“Well, not while I was drinking my coffee.”
Now in his human form, Jildarin walked toward them. How was he not wet in the least when he’d been splashing and rolling around out there with his fire-breathing aunt? Rylana plucked at her soggy clothes and accepted that her situation could have been much worse.
Jildarin stepped close and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I regret that my clan is making baseless accusations and targeting you for no reason.”
“It’s not your fault, but thanks for caring.
” Rylana felt the warmth of his hand through her wet shirt and wouldn’t have minded stepping closer to lean against him.
For warmth, of course, not intimacy. Now that she’d stopped moving, she keenly felt the cold of her wet clothes and the chilly spring night.
“It’s her fault for going to work for a dragon,” Sylin said. “From the beginning, I told her that would be unwise.”
Jildarin lowered his hand and gazed at her. “Your elven brethren are looking for you.”
“Oh, I’m aware.”
“You will not assassinate the elven queen,” he said, making it an order rather than a request.
Sylin was even less likely to appreciate and obey orders than Rylana.
Back in their mercenary unit, she’d often quipped that assassins worked independently and weren’t officially in the chain of command.
Maverick had never agreed to that statement, but he had given her more leeway than the rank-and-file types.
“I wasn’t planning to, but I thank you deeply for the career advice,” Sylin said.
Jildarin might not have caught the sarcasm in her deadpan voice, because he nodded an acknowledgment.
“The stockpot survived the dragon encounter.” Rylana pointed to the rowboat, but Jildarin was gazing skyward, toward the wetlands where a black dragon still perched in the distance. “We’re not done with them, are we?” she asked.
Jildarin sighed. “I was indignant that my aunt took advantage of my mother calling me aside for a conversation to attack you. I let her know. Further, I told her that I would defend you even more ferociously next time if she took such action again.”
“I don’t suppose she bowed to your fighting superiority and agreed that she would be unwise to piss you off further?”
“She said that my eagerness to defend you ensured what she had only suspected before.”
“That we’re…” Rylana waved in the air, gesturing toward him and then herself.
“Doing more than sleeping adjacent to each other in his lair?” Sylin asked with a smirk.
Jildarin gave her a sour look. “My relatives do not understand that I value Rylana as a business partner.”
“A good business partner is hard to come by, I hear,” Sylin said.
“Who else would get a quality pergola made for him?” Rylana asked.
Jildarin took a step toward the rowboat, as if to grab the stockpot, but he paused and looked toward the center of the island. His head cocked, reminding Rylana of the log-inspector dogs when they heard pixies flitting around in the parks.
“We are not alone,” he said.
“No, there’s a dragon spying on us.” Sylin pointed toward his mother still perched in the trees, though she appeared to be gazing toward Tranquility now.
The pillar on Lucky Island had stopped alarming, but several continued to go off along the shoreline on the way toward the city.
It might have had to do with the curse rather than the dragon skirmish.
“We are not alone on this island,” Jildarin said.
“It’s a public spot.” Rylana wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and wished Jildarin hadn’t taken his hand away.
She wished he’d offered a hug. If Sylin hadn’t been there, might he have?
For the logical purpose of keeping his business partner from freezing, of course.
“Anyone can come out here to observe the stars or make out.”
“Make out?”
“Kiss and grope.” Rylana lowered her arms.
“A prelude to recreational mating,” Jildarin said but didn’t sound certain.
“Yeah, and there could be some of that going on out here too, though that’s more common in the summer. It’s chilly for rolling around in the dewy ferns. For two-legged species without fur or magic to keep them warm anyway.” Rylana looked toward Sylin.
“Elves enjoy fern frolicking during most times of the year.”
“Fern frolicking,” Jildarin mouthed, then shook his head. “I sense only one person out here on the island. And I believe there is also magic.”
“One hopes that fern frolicking will result in a magical experience,” Rylana said.
Not appearing amused, Jildarin said, “The person is carrying something magical.”