“You do sleep next to him in his lair.”
“Sleepingisn’t mating. There are stacks of crates between us, and he’s adragonwhen he sleeps.”
“That does suggest a degree of incompatibility.”
“Alargedegree.” Rylana glanced back to check their progress. Thank the gods; they were almost there. Not that Lucky Island, with little more than trees, a wedding venue, and an observatory, would be a great place to fend off a dragon attack. She hoped that with Jildarin here, his pesky relatives would go away.
Farther out in the lake, the roars were dying down. Rylana eyed the southern shoreline again, sure his mother lingered. Not trusting that they were safe, Rylana didn’t slow her rowing.
“Thanks for coming to help and punting me over the side of the boat,” she said, realizing she hadn’t admitted yet that she might have needed that help.
“You’re welcome, but I feel now like I overreacted. You looked like a defenseless duckling staring at your doom approaching. I didn’t realize your... ally was right behind her.”
“It’s fine. Better to overreact than underreact when a dragon is approaching, and thank you for sayingallyrather than whatever snarky word first came to your mind.”
“I was going to say partner with a touch of innuendo, but since we’ve established the incompatibility, I stopped myself from uttering something illogical.”
“Good.”
The situation with the mother and the aunt would probably be even worse if they trulyweremating. Not that it could get much worse… Was that the dark outline of a dragon perched in the treetops of the wetlands?
Rylana and Sylin reached the island, and the rowboat bumped against the pebbly bottom. They climbed out, leaving the oars inside, and dragged it onto the beach. A dragon was flying toward them. Fortunately, it was asilverdragon. And those were Jildarin’s green eyes visible and flashing with irritation in the moonlight. Rylana exhaled with relief. For now, he was the only dragon flying toward the island.
“I hope he explained the situation to his mother and aunt.” Rylana looked down at the boat, wondering what to do with the stockpot. They would either have to row back across the lake or walk along the shoreline with it in their arms. Well, she’d seen Jildarin carry a large and very heavy gnomish commercial oven, so he could manage it. “I’ll handle toting this,” she said to herself, pulling the Whiskmaster out from under the bench. She was impressed that it also hadn’t been knocked overboard. But Sylin always had a light touch, even when she was kicking someone out of a boat.
“What is that?” Sylin had been eyeing the sky—doubtless watching for more dragons—as she tied her wet hair back in a ponytail.
One perk of short hair was that it dried quickly and didn’t bother Rylana when it was damp—or, as in the current situation, completely plastered to her head. “The gnomish Whiskmaster.”
“That’s not quite what I imagined. It might be hard to make a croissant in that shape.”
“I would think so. Jildarin and I did discuss that the sacred bread might appeal more to the troll gods ifitwas in a phallic shape.”
“That’s possible. They reputedly wanted their people to befruitful and create many more worshippers. If the goblin gods were behind the curse, I would be certainthe offering should be suggestive in nature.”
“I think that’srequiredfor their offerings.”
Jildarin spread his wings to glide in and land on the beach, and Rylana let the silly conversation come to an end, though it did occur to her to ask Sylin, “How did you know I would need help tonight? Did you run out here from town?”
“I did. I was enjoying a late-night coffee on the rooftop of the shop, relieved that the elves had departed, when I spotted a dragon breathing fire out on the lake.” Sylin extended her hand toward Jildarin as he shifted forms on the beach. “I also saw you in the rowboat alone. I didn’t realize right away that it was your ally and thought you might be in danger, so I jogged down to the waterfront. Then I saw the other dragons approaching and you trying to escape. I did indeed sprint out of town and in the direction you were rowing.”
“You had to be running fast to make it in time. I appreciate the effort.”
“A good sprint is excellent for one’s physical fitness and overall muscle health.”
“So, you probably would have sprinted along the lake regardless of the dragon threat.”
“Well, not while I was drinking my coffee.”
Now in his human form, Jildarin walked toward them. How was henot wet in the least when he’d been splashing and rolling around out there with his fire-breathing aunt? Rylana plucked at her soggy clothes and accepted that her situation could have been much worse.
Jildarin stepped close and rested a hand on her shoulder. “I regret that my clan is making baseless accusations and targeting you for no reason.”
“It’s not your fault, but thanks for caring.” Rylana felt thewarmth of his hand through her wet shirt and wouldn’t have minded stepping closer to lean against him. For warmth, of course, not intimacy. Now that she’d stopped moving, she keenly felt the cold of her wet clothes and the chilly spring night.
“It’sherfault for going to work for a dragon,” Sylin said. “From the beginning, I told her that would be unwise.”
Jildarin lowered his hand and gazed at her. “Your elven brethren are looking for you.”
