“Like turtle eggs?”
“No. More like sweets. We should visit Celena in her bakery later. To make sure her new career is off to a good start.”
“And stock up your pantry for the winter with delectable goods?”
“Oh, yes. I expect I’ll want those often.”
With Vorik trailing her, Syla hurried from the royal suite down to Wreylith’s lair with her medical kit andA Guide to Chicken Anatomy and Egg Laying. She’d tucked her finger into the book to hold a page with a diagram. Despite Wreylith’s numerous assertions that dragons were nothing like chickens, lizards, or any other inferior egg-laying creature, Syla had wantedsomekind of reference material that might clue her in if Wreylith needed help. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been any books in the library on dragon anatomy. She supposed their kind rarely passed where scientists could gain access to the body for a necropsy.
“You probably won’t need to do anything,” Vorik assured her as they entered the laboratory-turned-lair. “Dragons are inherently magical beings.”
“You thinkmagicensures everything will go smoothly? You’ve mentioned before that dragons can have digestive issues if they don’t get enough fiber. That implies they’re as prone to health maladies as the rest of us, and Wreylith said that because of her age…” The dragon had come into view, so Syla lowered her voice, not certain her winged comrade would appreciate her maturity being discussed. “She’s a little old for this, I understand. As she’s informed me, she doesn’tneedthe assistance of a human, but… she did ask that I be present.”
“For moral support, only, I’m certain.”
“Let’s hope.”
Wreylith turned toward them. She was walking—almost squatting—as she maneuvered around the back of the cave. To get things started? She hadn’t allowed Agrevlari to come in, saying this wasn’t a matter for males, though she didn’t forbidVorik’s presence. Maybe the great and powerful Wreylith hadn’t wanted her mate to witness her in a vulnerable state.
“I brought my medical kit.” Syla lifted it to show her as they approached.
I am certain that will not be necessary. What is that book?
Syla shifted it so the title wouldn’t be visible. “Just some reading material for me in case this takes a while.” She stopped by one of the workstations, opening it to the held page so the diagram would be easy to reference if anything happened. “Do dragons have an infundibulum?”
The look that Wreylith leveled at Syla, her golden eyes flaring with inner light and power, was a touch baleful.Is that a book on chickens?
“I’m reading titles related to animal husbandry,” Syla said, “since I’ve promised someone that I’ll start a horn-hog farm nearby.”
I am certain thathorn hogsdo not have the internal apparatuses necessary for egg laying.
“No, but I’ll want to have a variety of livestock on the farm, thus to satisfy the varied desires of my dragon ally.”
Wreylith issued what Syla thought was more of a grumble than a growl and turned away from them to continue what looked like an uncomfortable walk. Before long, she headed for a nest she’d made out of seaweed, driftwood, and the smashed-up remains of some of the storm god’s artifacts and statuary. It didn’t look comfortable in the least to Syla, but dragons didn’t seem to crave warmth and softness the way humans did.
“Is that a wyvern head sticking out of the side of her nest?” Vorik murmured, leaning his elbows on the workstation Syla had chosen.
They should have brought a couple of chairs down, but Wreylith might have objected to humans creating a waiting room in her lair.
“Half of one, I think,” Syla said.
“I wouldn’t want to rest my butt on that horn.”
“You’re not a dragon.”
“Thankfully, no.”
“I’ve taken their preferences into consideration for my latest formulation.” Syla opened her medical kit and pulled out one of several jars, the substances within emanating magic. Though her duties as the queen kept her busy, she’d found time to work on her latest hobby, imbuing known medicinal substances with her power.
You have not brought slimy substances to my lair, have you?Wreylith skewered both of them with her golden-eyed gaze again.
Vorik lifted his hands in innocence.
“I’ve created a few tinctures and salves that distinctlyaren’tslimy. They’re astringent, dry quickly, and sting like necrotizing fasciitis.”
Vorik raised his eyebrows.
“Flesh-eating disease,” Syla translated, though his eyebrows remained up, so maybe that wasn’t what he’d been curious about. “I asked Igliana what kind of salve would make a dragon comfortable,” she added.
