“I heard of such things, yes. We were warned often against having liaisons with the enemy.”
Jildarin considered the latte again, then lifted it for a sip. He made a face afterward and set it down, but then he squinted thoughtfully at it. “I’ve heard of recipes that employ coffee as an ingredient.”
“You should make them promptly. I would be a fan.”
“I prefer to develop myownrecipes, but sometimes I find existing ones to be inspiring.”
“I remember having coffee cake as a kid that had actual powdered coffee in the cinnamon streusel. It was fabulous.”
“A favorite treat of dragon young is the marrow of the giant foxtail ungulate.”
“I’m sure they share a similar flavor profile. You’ll keep the diner open, won’t you? The staff has concerns, but we can fix it up. You can’t let a rival drive you out of business. By my calculations, you’re starting to turn a profit—or will be if we can keep arsonists from destroying your inventory.”
Jildarin sipped the drink again. “My brother is the reason I left the diner before the dinner hour. You will tally the costs of the fire damage, prepare an invoice, and I will send it to him. He has far more funds than I, and hedeservesto pay after his treacherous behavior.”
“What did he do?” Rylana thought again about Zilek’s comment onmating.
When Jildarin took a few more sips without pausing to answer, Rylana assumed he wouldn’t. Maybe it was a private matter. But he thunked the cup down, his milk foam quivering,and spoke with exasperation, whatever irritation he felt bubbling over.
“One of my mother’s female friends was waiting in the woods, seeking to mate with me, and he attempted totrickme into doing so. She was going to shape-shift into an elf, thinking that I would, in this human form, find that alluring, and be at the wine meeting that he first attempted to lure me to. When that did not work, he enticed me with the promise of a hunt. Ienjoyhunting, the exhilaration of seeking out prey and flying at great speed over and under and around obstacles as it flees. I even enjoy hunting with my kin, though Zilek has perturbed me often enough of late that I may not go with him again. Instead of seeking prey, he led me toward Sophoneliza.”
“Is that… a female dragon? Or the name of an innovative new alchemy formula?”
“It is—sheis—my mother’s acquaintance who seeks to reproduce soon and desires my sperm. I do not wish to be manipulated into mating.” He looked up from his latte to turn his exasperated gaze on her.
“I’ve gathered that.” Her cheeks warmed when she remembered kissing him. But that hadn’t been her fault, damn it. He shouldn’t have given her any of that soup. It wasn’t as if she would have sprung upon him if she hadn’t been drugged—spiced. Even if his gaze was a touch smoldering when he looked at her over the rim of his cup.
Rylana looked away. He was right. Shewasattracted to him. When had that happened?
“Are elves your type?” she asked, to distract him from the memory of that experience—and maybe herself as well.
“My what?”
“Are they what, er,whoyou’re attracted to when you’re in this form? I assume that when you’re a dragon, you’re attracted to your own kind.”
“Certainly.”
“But, as we discussed earlier, humans and elves had been known to… you know.Mostof the intelligent two-legged species are closely enough related genetically that they can produce offspring.”
“I had an elven companion during the war, so perhaps that is why my brother believed a female with pointed ears might interest me, but my companion wasmale.We never had coitus. He rode on my back and fired arrows at the enemy when we flew into battle.”
“I saw some elves and dragons do that.” Rylana grimaced at the memory of such pairs flying past, the dragons breathing fire while the elves loosed arrows. Those teams had been devastating to the ground-bound human, dwarf, and orc militias.
“We fought together for many years before his passing during the last months of the war.” Jildarin looked toward the hiss of the espresso machine. “He is the one who made me realize that food could be much more than raw meat from a fresh kill. In addition to being a fine archer and sword master, he was a chef among his people.”
“Ah.” Rylana had wondered how Jildarin had ended up with his culinary passion and where he’d learned what he knew.
“When we were not in battle, we foraged together for ingredients and made unique dishes. Considering we often had only a campfire and a pot, he came up with surprisingly exquisite concoctions.” Jildarin sighed at whatever memories came to mind.
Since Rylana had also lost good companions over the years of being a mercenary, she understood perfectly well.
“He is the one who said I had a knack for combining ingredients,” Jildarin said, his gaze still toward the espresso machine and the steam wafting from it, though he was probably looking into the past instead of seeing it. “He even suggested… We talked of visiting Tranquility together once the fighting was over. He spoke of the many and varied cuisines and fine diners here. We planned totaste from the menus and critique the offerings.” Jildarin, who’d said he didn’t smile, smiled ever so faintly, but it soon faded. “He was killed three months before the war’s end.”
“I’m sorry that you lost a good friend.”
He barely seemed to hear her, but he murmured, “Yes.”
“I’ll bet he would want you to keep cooking—and to go to that contest and win it.”
