Brow crinkling in confusion, Jildarin looked at his hand on Rylana’s shoulder, then shifted his gaze lower. A little wistful, she supposed she shouldn’t hope that enlightenment—and arousal—would dawn upon him as he eyed her chest. His head tilted, as ifhe were considering…something.But then Mya thumped her dough into the bowl and dragged over a box-shaped item, and Jildarin let go of Rylana’s shoulder and looked away from her chest.
“Thanks for defending me,” Rylana said. “Your family is a problem.”
“Zilek has always been a problem.”
“I meant forme.”
“I know. But I will ensure they do not harm you.”
“You can’t watch me every second of every day. Do you think Zilek will obey your wishes and leave me alone?”
“You do sleep in my lair and work in my diner. Should you refrain from visiting the coffee establishment, I can watch youmostseconds.”
Rylana opened her mouth to give a tart response about the likelihood of that, but the front door opened first, and the half-gnome server, Vilma, walked in, carrying a large latte.
“Ahhhh,” Rylana purred, fishing out a coin and a tip before accepting it.
“You will not refrain,” Jildarin said, watching her as she took a long gulp. The sample had tided her over, but sheneededthis.
“Nope.” Rylana sipped again.
“Let me know if you need a second serving,” Vilma said with a smirk, waving to Mya before departing.
“WhatIneed,” Mya said, “is a dragon with hands that emanate magic. The sooner the gluten develops, the sooner we can bake it and offer it to a god. Come, Chef Jildarin. Hold my proofing box.”
Rylana almost said that sounded suggestive, but the ongoing crease to Jildarin’s brow promised he was still trying to work out what his brother’scomment had implied.
“I will come,” he said but turned back to Rylana first. “At the elven enclave, you spoke to the ballerina known as Layothlee.”
“I did.”
“That is the elf Zilek has a sexual interest in, yes?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you warn her about the soup?”
“I did, actually,” Rylana said, surprised Jildarin already knew. Maybe he’d caught some of their conversation, either with his keen ears or with his magic.
“Good. Zilek will not have success with his pursuit unlessshedesires it.”
“I think that’s right.” Rylana was glad Jildarin cared that his dragon spices might be used against the wishes of the unsuspecting and had only agreed to make the soup because Layothlee already understood the risk. Rylana almost pointed out that the elf had seemed too sharp to fall for Zilek’s ploy regardless. But, sinceshe’dbeen seduced by the aroma of the soup, she couldn’t make too many assumptions about people’s ability to resist it.
“Good,” Jildarin repeated and joined Mya at the counter.
“Rylana,” came a whisper from behind the kitchen.
Sylin crouched on the narrow stairs up to the attic.
“How long have you been there?” Rylana joined her while Jildarin held the proofing box, a kitchen tool Rylana knew nothing about. The dough was in there, though, presumably rising and doing whatever else dough needed to do. “I would have ordered a coffee for you if I’d known you were still in the area.”
“I just returned. There are elves and gnomes out front so I came in the back way.” Sweat gleamed on Sylin’s forehead as she pointed toward the attic. Had she been jogging?
“There’s not a door up there.” Rylana knew that well since she’d been up there so recently.
“The window overlooking the alley counts as a back way,” Sylin said.
“Only if you’re a squirrel.”
