“Itisgood.” Jildarin lifted his chin, looking more pleased that he made such fine food than disappointed that she hadn’t been able to help herself. “But you did not rate it. Unlike the suitably obedient dwarf baker, you failed to rateanyof my dishes.”
“I got distracted by your allure.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“You should have shape-shifted into a less handsome form. If you looked like Rolf, I probably wouldn’t have kissed you, no matter how horny I was.”
“You are certain?” Jildarin asked. “He claims that goblinfemales—as well as females of other species—find him irresistible.”
“You do know that goblins are even more known for prevaricating than humans, right?”
“Oh, yes. I deem him a dubious resource at best. Come. You will sleep, and in the morning, the spices will have worn off.”
“Yes, that would be best,” Rylana agreed. “We shouldn’t be… I mean, normally, I wouldn’t—” She waved at him.
“I am certain,” he said dryly, then considered her for a moment instead of leading the way back. “You continue to carry your bow with you on your journey, but you say you are no longer a mercenary.”
The way he spoke made it sound like a statement, but he waited, watching her, as if it had been a question and he expected an answer.
“That’s right,” Rylana said. “The roads outside Tranquility can be dangerous. Besides, I still hunt and target shoot to keep my skills up. I’ve always found it relaxing. I had a bow before I went south and joined the Moon Daggers.”
“You arecertainyou are no longer employed in the capacity of a mercenary? One who might be working for those for whom the war never ended? Those who desire to see dragons killed?”
“I’m certain.” Rylana realized he might believe her more likely to answer honestly under the influence of his spiced soup. And maybe itwasmaking her more open out of a desire to be close to him, but the answers to these questions wouldn’t have changed, regardless. “I lost the stomach for killing and watching comrades die. Long before the treaty and the end of the war, I was ready for it to be over. I only continued to work as a merc because of the captain. We were close.”
“You felt loyalty to him.”
“And the unit, yes.” But especially Mav, Rylana added silently, missing him anew. He would have happily eaten thesoup with her, and then they would have explored its side effects together.
“You stayed because of loyalty.”
“Loyalty and Mav’s gifted tongue and horizontal athleticism.” As soon as the words came out, Rylana wished she could retract them. She hadn’t intended to explain the details of her relationship with Mav to Jildarin.
He blinked without apparent understanding, so maybe it didn’t matter, but then he caught on. “You refer to coitus.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t just loyal to the captain. I loved him. Oh, not at first. It was many years after I joined the unit, and after I’d worked my way up through the ranks, that we figured out we enjoyed each other’s company. Often and vigorously.”
“That is what kept you fighting in the war?”
“It was one of the reasons I stayed with the mercenaries, yes.”
“Strange. Dragons rarely feel the urge to form a long-term bond with another. We do not mate for recreational interests, only procreational purposes.”
How romantic.
“You also mate because of parental pressure though, right?” she asked.
Jildarin squinted at her. “I knew you were spying on my conversation with my brother.”
That was another set of words that Rylana wished she could retract. She shouldn’t have brought that up and reminded him that he had reasons to mistrust her. Her tongue was flapping with the wind tonight.
“I was looking for an opportune moment to knock and try again to be hired.” Rylana shrugged. “And don’t worry. I won’t speak of what I overheard. I understand parental pressure myself.”
Jildarin's eyes remained slitted. She regretted that she’d aroused his suspicion. Especially after he’d seemed open to believing her reason for leaving the mercenaries.
“Captain Maverick died toward the end of the war,” Rylana said to finish her story—to explain why she wasn’t here because of Jildarin and a desire to kill a dragon. “I tried to help his first officer keep the company together, as there’s always work for mercenaries, even when formal wars aren’t raging, but it was hard. For both of us, I think. People kept leaving. And I eventually left too, even though it was a difficult choice. As I said, I was loyal to the captain but also to the unit, my comrades. I didn’t want people to be hurt because there were fewer archers to cover them in battles.” She touched her chest.
“Dragons understand loyalty,” Jildarin said, though it sounded grudging. At least he’d stopped squinting at her. “Loyalty to the clan and our culture and ways.”
