“Yes.” She’d seen his kind sacrifice themselves for each other during the war. Some had even seemed to have strong bonds with their elven allies.
“You no longer desire to kill dragons?”
“I’m not sure I ever did.”
“No? My scar suggests otherwise.” Jildarin sounded more dry than angry, but he continued to watch her, gauging her reactions.
“Maybe my arrow would have lodged in your eye if I’dtrulydesired to kill you.”
“Or maybe it was windy, and I turned my head at an opportune time.”
Rylana snorted. Thatwaswhat had happened. It had also been a very long-range shot. Usually, she didn’t miss. “Maybe so.”
Jildarin didn’t ask any more questions, but she didn’t know if she’d succeeded in convincing him that she wasn’t here as part of a ruse and lying in wait for an opportunity to end his life. She sighed, sad that he felt that way, even if she understood perfectly. Tonight, with his soup in her stomach, the thought especially saddened her.
On the way back, she stuck her hands in her pockets since theykept wanting to stray toward him, to grip his arm so she could lean against him. But he didn’t want that. And she, when spices weren’t flowing through her veins, wouldn’t want that either. She still missed Mav. She didn’t want romance, and certainly not a one-night stand, with another man. And definitely not a dragon.
Their kind had led the troops in the final battle that had taken Mav down. She shouldn’t even be here with one of them. Only a vague longing for home, and a time when she’d known nothing of war and dying, had brought her back to the north. But maybe returning to Tranquility had been a mistake. She hadn’t reached out to her family or any old friends; the only familiar faces she’d encountered so far were up to no good.
Rylana wiped moisture from her eyes, not sure if the tears were for her lost mercenary lover or the childhood she couldn’t reclaim, but she didn’t want anyone to see her cry. It was bad enough the spices had made her vulnerable and foolish, and Jildarin had been there to witness it. Toendureit. How distasteful the kiss of the one who’d shot him must have been.
“What?” Jildarin blurted, stopping abruptly.
Startled, Rylana also stopped, thinking he’d somehow read her thoughts. No, he was staring at the carriage doors leading to the storeroom. In the short time they’d been gone, someone had come through and painted graffiti on them, giant phallic symbols and a crude dragon head with an X through it. At the bottom, actual words were written:Dragons can’t cook.
Jildarin's hands snapped into fists, and he growled. He almost roared as rage made his body quiver, and he thrust an accusing finger at the words. To him, they were probably the most offensive part of the sloppy graffiti.
“You can’t turn into a dragon out here,” Rylana warned, sensing that he was on the verge of it.
He probably wanted to fly through the streets and find the culprit, someone who hadjustdone this and couldn’t yet havegone far. But he had to know better than she that changing outside of his lair would bring the peacekeepers and their golems, and they’d promised more than a fine if he turned into a dragon in the open city again.
Jildarin remained in his human form, but he threw his head back and roared, his every muscle taut. Maybe Rylana should have backed away since he seemed on the verge of not only losing his temper but changing, and standing next to an irate dragon was suicidal. But, with the spices lingering in her blood, she still found him alluring. Dangerous, yes, but alluring, and she caught herself stepping close and resting a hand on his forearm.
“Whoever did that wants to make you angry,” she said. “Maybe they even want you to change and be forced to leave.”
Though Jildarin remained tense, his muscled form radiating power, he lowered his head to look at her.
“And youcancook. I don’t know where you learned how, but your food is amazing. Whoever did that—” Rylana pointed at the maligned doors, “—or hired someone to do that is probably a jealous rival.”
Jildarin squinted at the graffiti. “Yes… Yes, I do have rivals. And there aremanywho loathe dragons and want them to leave the city. Even my brother, who is lavish with his tips, has been targeted by similar behavior.”
“Ignore your rivals, and keep your calm so you aren’t kicked out of Tranquility before the competition. I know you want to win that, not be disqualified before it begins.”
“Yes. You are correct.” His gaze returned to hers, his emerald eyes fiery with their intensity. Fiery and passionate and…
Rylana released his arm and stepped back before the urge to kiss him could take hold again. His passion was for the Golden Whisk, not for her. Besides, in the morning, once the spices were out of her system, she would remember that she was in mourningfor another and notinterested in having a relationship with an enemy dragon.
“I will not fall prey to the machinations of my rivals,” Jildarin stated, his voice calmer now, though he gave the graffiti another baleful look. “I will practice and continue to hone my skills and be ready for the competition. And I will win it.” He looked at her again. “You will attend and watch.”
“Is that an invitation or an order? Did I mention how lovely it was of you to let those two elves call me your servant?”
At least,hehadn’t used that word. His brother would have.
“They will be less likely to disturb you again now that they believe you are mine.” Jildarin quirked an eyebrow and walked toward the storeroom.
“I’m the bookkeeper and my own person, thank you very much.”
“In the morning, you will rate the dishes you consumed tonight.” It was, without a doubt, an order, but he sounded faintly amused as he gave it. And, as he walked inside, he sent a long look over his shoulder toward her. Damn if she didn’t find it sexy.
