She couldn’t tell if he was serious or feigning innocence.
“The rivalry can be fierce, I understand.”
“Well, adragonsurely doesn’t need anyone watching his back.”
“I think a dragon may need back-watching more than anyoneelse here.” Rylana had caught a few veiled glares toward Jildarin, not only from his rivals but from the judges. She had a feeling the culinary community as a whole did not want to see a dragon win the Golden Whisk.
“Nobody is going to attack him here with golems on all sides of the arena,” Vormalt said. “Anyway, what I wanted to talk to you about is… an apology. That’s what I’ve been trying to get up the courage to do since I first saw you’d arrived back in town.”
“Is that so?” Rylana watched one of the goblins opening his lunchbox and leaned forward, but he only drew a couple of coins and waved the rock-candy-selling dwarf over. A half-elven vendor followed with skewers of meat, and the goblins purchased from both merchants.
“Yes. I’ve long felt distressed about the past—about our past. Did I put too much pressure on you to marry? Is that why you ran away from home?”
Yes, she thought but didn’t say it, not wanting him to think he’d had that much power to affect her life. “I was an adult by then. I didn’t run away. I departed of my own mature volition.”
“You left a letter decrying the evils of expectations and how smothered you were. Your father didn’t understand it.”
“Dear gods, he didn’t let youreadit, did he?”
“No, but that was the impression I got when he admitted you were gone and told me not to come around anymore, that there was no point. He was distant toward me at work after that, which is why I eventually left his business. I think he blamed me for you leaving.WasI the reason? Or did you feel pressured by him? You never seemed that delighted by all those tutors hounding you.”
“I wasn’t delighted by much of anything that last year at home.” Rylana lifted a hand to try to halt the conversation. A silver-haired woman in a chef’s uniform had climbed onto the stage with a megaphone.
“All of the contestants are here,” she called. “Please take yourseats. I will introduce the chefs, and then the first of three rounds of cooking will commence.”
As she started the introductions, telling the judges and audience about a human chef at the first station, Vormalt tapped Rylana’s shoulder and pointed behind them. She looked, thinking the golem might be doing something, but he was gesturing across the lake. Toward her family’s estate?
“I heard that you ran into your father the other day,” Vormalt said.
“Yes, so?” Rylana eyed him warily, wondering if he’d also heard that she’d been in the Molingvar family manor when he and Yerin had been chatting in the kitchen. She didn’t think he’dever seen her, but others had and might have identified her later.
“Did you go inside? See your old room?”
See whatever roomshewas interested in having access to? The library, perhaps?
She only said, “No.”
The announcer finished the introductions, asked the chefs if they were ready, then said, “The first round shall commence. Timer, set the hourglass. The ingredients that will be required for the first dish are mutton, mushrooms, and grapes. Chefs, you may begin…now.”
None of the cooks looked stumped by the ingredients. They went straight to work, pulling items out of the iceboxes and mobile pantries. Jildarin wore a determined expression and nodded to himself as he extracted everything he planned to use in his dish.
“Are you going to make amends with your father?” Vormalt asked. “Return to living on the estate?”
“Not likely.”
“Where areyou living now?”
“Nowhere you’d want to visit. I assume you’re not looking for a hook-up after all this time.”
Vormalt snorted, his gaze drifting to the hair he’d called too short. “I am not.”
“Good.” Trying to think of a way to get Vormalt to go away, Rylana almost missed noticing that one of the goblins had disappeared. The arsonist goblin. “Damn it.”
26
The cooks had started sautéing,grilling, and fricasseeing, and delicious scents wafted into the air, but Rylana barely noticed. She’d slipped away from Vormalt to prowl around the arena, looking for the goblin that had disappeared. She should have leaped upon him as soon as she’d recognized him, peacekeepers be damned.
But the uniformed gnomes eyed her as she moved away from the benches, probably wondering why someone from the audience was leaving their seat so early in the competition. She lifted a hand toward one of the vendors to pretend she’d come down for a snack, but she surveyed the area intently and looked behind the stage as well. A few of the men and women with press credentials were writing while others yawned and chatted, probably wondering why they’d been assigned to cover a cooking contest.
