“In themorning, I’d better be back to normal.” Rylana lamented that she hadn’t gotten an opportunity to fully douse herself in the cold water of the fountain.
She looked in that direction, though she didn’t intend to return, not with suspicious elves roaming the city. She twitched in surprise when she spotted a golem and two gnomes in peacekeeper uniforms passing through the closest intersection. It appeared to be a normal patrol, but when they looked in the direction of the diner, her instincts told her that someone had ensured the law enforcers would be in the area at the time Jildarin discovered the graffiti. If he’d failed to keep his temper and had turned into a dragon, they would have rushed up, demanding that he leave the city.
Sylin, Rylana decided, wasn’t the only one that someone was out to get.
14
By three hours past dawn,Rylana had balanced the books, ordered supplies for the week, located Jildarin's landlord and paid the back rent, and sold another of the surplus ovens. With all that accomplished, she felt justified in slipping into the coffee shop across the street for a break.
She hadn’t woken hungover or experienced any ill effects from the dragon spices—if anything she’d felt alert and invigorated—but shehadbeen embarrassed by her antics the night before. Had she really flung herself at Jildarin and kissed him? Yes… and she’d wanted to do a lot more than that.
That morning, she’d avoided making eye contact with him, and he, fortunately, hadn’t said anything about the night before, other than waving toward the table in the back of the kitchen when she’d passed through. Two of the place settings had been cleared, but her dishes remained by the numbered cloches, the charcoal stick pointedly lying atop the butcher paper. Amused, or maybebemused, that her opinion mattered to him, she’d done her best to remember all the meals and write down ratings. Everything had been delicious so she didn’t give any of them less thanan eight. She’d thought about pretending the soup hadn’t existed, but its clochedidhave a number, so he’d doubtless expected a rating. When she’d caught him peering over at her while tending a frying pan, she’d written a ten, then underlined it and left three exclamation points. She’d thought about circling it with a heart as well, but that would have reminded him of her foolish behavior. She would prefer if they both forgot about that.
It was difficult though. As she sipped from her cup, enjoying a potent double-shot mocha, Rylana kept thinking of the night before. Even though Jildarin had, before pushing her away, stood unresponsive in the seconds that her lips had been pressed to his, and even though he’d assured her that dragons didn’t mate for recreational purposes, her thoughts kept returning to him. Being close to him hadn’t been… unpleasant.
“Ridiculous,” she murmured.
“Your beverage?” Sylin slid the chair on the opposite side of the table away so that she could stand there and lean her shoulder against the wall.
“No, my mocha is delicious. Those elves from yesterday are looking for you, and I think they know what your occupation in the war was.”
“And what it remains.” Sylin lifted a finger toward the half-gnome girl waiting tables.
“You didn’t take a new job, did you? Nothere, right? In Tranquility?” Rylana hadn’t expected her comrade to swear off assassinations forever—it was what she’d trained her whole adult life to do, after all—but it wouldn’t be a wise career to pursue in the city of peace.Enforcedpeace.
“One must remain useful.” Sylin smiled enigmatically, then ordered a large coffee and laid a gleaming gold coin on the table.
“I like your friends,” the girl told Rylana with enthusiasm, sweeping up the coin and trotting away.
“You got paid already for the job, I’m guessing,” Rylana said.
“I did. Though it wasn’t my usual type of assignment, I did learn that there’s more work for assassins available here than you might think. The inability to challenge adversaries to duels and pursue vigilante justice leaves a lot of people craving satisfaction. Some have financial means.”
“I don’t need details. I’m retiring from the satisfaction-providing business.”
“You’re certain? Outside of the city boundaries, you could remove the tranquility ribbon and unleash your bow.”
“If I take it out of the city, it’ll only be to hunt, maybe to find some unique meat to challenge Jildarin to incorporate into one of his dishes.” Rylana smiled at the thought of thunking down a raccoon or squirrel on his cutting board. But would those challenge someone who smoked glowing eels?
Sylin raised her eyebrows. “Is he paying you for your work yet?”
“Only in food. And tips.”
“Do bookkeepers receive tips?”
“I haven’t yet, but I may if I’m more aggressive about requesting them. Judging by his jingling purse last night, our goblin server does well for himself.”
“You at least receive free board, right? I checked the room in the tavern, and you hadn’t been by.”
“I had to work late last night. It was easier to sleep in the storeroom again.” In the storeroom shared with Jildarin, though once he’d turned into his silver dragon form, her thoughts had grown less sex-centered, and she’d fallen asleep wondering who might be trying to get him out of the city. Or maybe out of the cooking competition?
“Dragon adjacent?” Sylin smirked.
“Separated by the piles of crates and ovens.”
“Since elves are looking for me, I’m going to be scarce for a while.” Sylin waited while her coffee was delivered, with the half-gnome cheerfully introducing herself as Vilma and complimenting her lush green hair, before continuing. “I only came to see if you want to use the room or if I should let the establishment know it’s available now.” Sylin sipped from the mug, then almost purred a contented, “Ahhhh,” as she closed her eyes in appreciation.
“That’s theonlyreason you came?”
