“What would one of your pack do if it chanced across a family member it hadn’t seen in years?” Rylana murmured back.
“Go up and sniff butts.”
“I… probably won’t try that.” Rylana raised her voice. “Uhm, hello, Father.”
“Good afternoon, Rylana.” Despite his rigid stance, his tone was polite, polite but without any warmth. He’d never been effusive with affection, even with Mother when she’d still lived, so that wasn’t surprising.
“You look well.” Rylana cringed at the awkwardness of her words. “I came to…” To what? She hadn’t come to see him at all and had hoped to avoid this. “Ah, do you remember Vernest Vormalt?”
“He’s returned to Tranquility periodically over the years since leaving my employment. Each time, he’s attempted to gain access to our estate for reasons he won’t disclose.”
“So youdoremember him.”
“Yes.”
“Well, he’s plotting to get you out of the castle so he can check out the library for some reason. If you’re heading to the Molingvar estate because you were invited to sample Yerin’s food, you mightwant to change your plans.” Rylana looked back over her shoulder at the smoke being blown across the street and toward the lake.
“I see.” Father didn’t appear alarmed by the smoke and merely shifted his gaze to Sylin.
“Oh, sorry,” Rylana said. “This is my friend—well, not an emotionally close friend who hasfeelingsfor me—Sylin of Darken Forest in the south.”
“A mercenary?” For the first time, there was judgment in Father’s voice, the politeness evaporating.
“Yeah.”
“As you are, from what I’ve heard over the years. I admit I didn’t expect to see you again. I assumed you would be killed.”
“That did nearly happen a few times. Aren’t you relieved I’m still alive?” Rylana smiled and spread her arms, thoughrelievedwas the last thing her father appeared to be. His lips pinched together, and he didn’t reply. Was he still irritated, after all these years, that she hadn’t gone into the family business?
“What do you want?” he asked. “Are you here for money?”
“No, I’m trying to help a dragon win a cooking contest.”
His jaw descended a few millimeters. Whatever he’d expected from her, that wasn’t it.
“We need to get back to that, don’t we?” Sylin asked.
“Yes. Yes, immediately. Goodbye, Father!”
Rylana didn’t know if assisting a dragon was a socially acceptable reason to hasten away, but she did anyway, and she didn’t look back.
18
Twilight was sinkingover the mundane and magical lights of Tranquility as the ferry returned Rylana and Sylin to the city. They headed straight for the diner, Rylana's mood somber. She tried not to feel disappointed that her father hadn’t been glad to see her—or welcoming in the least. Such emotions wouldn’t be logical. After all, she hadn’t been glad to see him either; she’d planned to avoid him altogether for as long as possible. Not because she didn’t care but because she’d expected him to be… exactly as he had been. Distant. Aloof. Still disappointed in what she’d become. Not only that, but he’d accused her of showing up for money. That rankled more than the rest.
“Hm,” Sylin said, her gaze toward the diner as they turned onto Acorn Street.
A giggling couple stumbled out the front door with their arms around each other’s waists. Several teenage boys were peering in the window.
“What now?” Rylana muttered, increasing her pace.
Had Jildarin returned from his hunt yet? She didn’t know, but something told her that he hadn’t.
One of the boys snickered and elbowed a buddy. Another blurted that he had to leave and ran into the alley.
The door opened again, and, as another amorous couple exited, moans, groans, and an enthusiastic cry of, “Yes!” wafted out of the dining room.
“I thought Jildarin was figuring out how to tonedownthe dragon spices.” Rylana shooed away the boys and walked inside.
