Chapter 12 #2
“No, it’s not. I’m a delight. Hah.” Rylana spotted a morel growing in loamy dark earth beside a dead tree that had fallen during a winter storm.
“I don’t think it’s magical though.” She wished she knew if the special morels glowed or did anything else to clue in a mundane human forager about their enchantment.
“I’ll bring any mushrooms I find back so you can let me know if they’re magical,” she called back.
Since she’d wandered away from the bank, Jildarin would have been out of sight, but he’d lifted his head on his long neck so it was visible as he gazed downstream.
We are not alone, he said. I sense… Ah.
What did that mean? Rylana almost asked, but his warning made her hesitate to keep calling back to him.
He didn’t sound worried, but what if someone dangerous was out here?
Like the elves who didn’t want to see Sylin reconnect with the queen?
Or the female dragons in Jildarin’s clan who would take one look at Rylana and know she’d kissed him?
And, this time, he’d kissed her back. They would probably blame her even more for that.
“Good morning, Chef Jildarin,” came Sylin’s voice from farther down the bank.
Oh! Just who Rylana wanted to see.
She plucked up the morel—even if it wasn’t enchanted, people always enjoyed freshly foraged food at the diner—and scrambled over the logs and through the undergrowth back to the grassy section of the bank.
“Hi, Sylin. How did you find us?”
Sylin, with the hood of her dark-green cloak down, gazed blandly at Jildarin. “When one approaches on a dragon with a forty-foot wingspan, one can assume others will notice.”
As Rylana drew even with Jildarin, who remained in his dragon form, she told him, “I think she means that small prey can also see you from two miles away.”
As apex predators, dragons have no need to employ stealth.
Sylin considered the lone mushroom gripped between Rylana’s fingers. “Were you out of food at the diner?”
“No, I told you about our quest for enchanted morels.”
“You did. That is not enchanted.”
“I’m warming up my foraging skills with unenchanted morels.
I don’t suppose you found any of the magical variety while you were wandering around out here.
” Rylana looked her comrade up and down but didn’t see a digging stick, gathering bag, or even a bulging pocket that would suggest a day spent gathering edible fungi.
“No. I’ve been busy avoiding elves, peacekeepers with their hounds, and a lecherous logger who was so struck by my beauty that he attempted to follow me through the forest in the hope of engaging in sex.”
“Are you sure that was the reason? Maybe he wanted to mug you.”
“Whatever he desired to do to me, I had no wish to participate.”
You will inform the elf child of the newfound knowledge you have gained? Jildarin asked. Or maybe it was a command.
“Er.” Rylana faced Sylin, who mouthed the term elf child with raised eyebrows.
Had Jildarin referred to her as the princess, Rylana would have no choice but to explain.
Now, however, she wondered if it was her place to share that crucial tidbit with Sylin, or if she should let Layothlee do so.
Or even, should their paths cross, the queen herself.
After years of knowing Sylin, Rylana suspected she might take off at the news rather than come back for a visit.
“Layothlee, the elven ballerina I told you about, handed me an envelope to give to you. And she would like to meet you.”
“Why?”
“Your charisma and delightful wit. Also, she thinks you may be related.”
Sylin’s jaw dropped, surprise blooming on her face. The expression made Rylana realize how seldom she’d seen her comrade surprised or even mildly startled by something. Sylin rarely reacted strongly to anything, even attempts on her life.
“Do you want me to arrange a meeting?” Rylana asked.
“No.” Sylin closed her mouth.
“You’ve admitted to being lonely lately.”
“I admitted I felt slightly bereft of companionship when I headed into the mountains, intending to henceforth travel by myself.”
“I would miss you too. Maybe Layothlee would agree to meet at your favorite coffee shop.”
Sylin squinted at her. “I’m still alive because I haven’t walked into any traps.”
Rylana shrugged. “You could set the time and place where you’d like to meet, and I could relay that to Layothlee. Pick somewhere defensible and where hordes of elves wouldn’t normally deign to go. Or would be at a disadvantage if they did.”
“Like the attic of the erotic bakery?”
“It’s only the elf captain who won’t deign to go in there. Because his mother would disapprove.”
They shared a smile at the memory of that conversation.
“Admittedly,” Rylana continued, “I haven’t seen any other pointy-eared people walk out with boob cakes either. Such desserts probably aren’t sophisticated enough for your kind.”
“No. Listen, I’m not interested in meeting that elf or any others.”
“Aren’t you curious about your family?”
“No.”
“Truly?”
“From what I’ve observed by watching you two, family is more of a pain in the ass than anything to be desired.”
Rylana scratched her jaw and looked at Jildarin. He twitched his tail and didn’t refute Sylin’s statement. Given that her father was trying to get their business evicted, Rylana didn’t know if she could refute it either.
“I think you should at least meet your family,” she said, “since you’re being given the opportunity to do so after being an orphan your whole life, but it’s your choice.”
“That elf could be lying to you. It could be a ruse to try to get me to come into the open where a squadron of her people could spring out and kill me.”
“I… think Layothlee probably wasn’t lying, but it’s your life. If, however, you change your mind, I could offer my father’s castle as a safe place where you could meet her. I need to talk to him about something anyway. And you know there are wards there to keep out the uninvited riffraff.”
“I doubt those wards would deter resolute elves,” Sylin said.
“Well, the castle is more protected than Mya’s attic.”
“But less coffee-shop adjacent. I would need stimulation to deal with one of my people.”
“You can bring your gnomish vacuum thermos to the castle.” Rylana shrugged.
She sensed that Sylin might be on the verge of giving in—she had to be at least somewhat curious about the possibility of meeting a relative—but didn’t want to push too hard.
“You can always stake out the castle and leave before they’re any the wiser if the wrong elf shows up or you change your mind about meeting Layothlee. ”
“How do you know your father would approve of you hosting a shindig at his place?”
“One elf meeting another elf isn’t a shindig.”
“What if she brings fifty elven warriors with her?”