“I’m special.”
Tassani’s eyebrows drifted up. “I wouldn’t presume to deny that statement, but it does invite a further explanation.”
Rylana didn’t owe the elf captain anything, and it wasn’t any of his business, but he didn’t seem inclined to loathe her or be overly suspicious of her—unlike the rest of the pointy-eared inhabitants of the enclave. It might be a good idea to cultivate at leastonenon-hostile relationship with the local elves.
“It’s because the female dragons in Jildarin’s clan think he should be mating with his own kind, not spending time with humans.” Rylana waved to herself. “We’renot, you know, mating, buttheythink we are. At the least, they’ve decided I’m a distraction.”
“And… thus you should be slain?” His eyebrows climbed higher.
“Theyreallywant Jildarin to get busy with his own kind and make babies. Hatchlings.”
When Tassani mouthed, “Get busy,” Rylana decided it probably wasn’t an elven term.
“I don’t know what led them to believe I’m that much of a threat,” Rylana said. “It’s not like I’m a great beauty, and I’mcertainly not going toseducea dragon.” She grimaced as she remembered her failed attempt to kiss Jildarin the night she’d been under the influence of his soup.
“No?” Tassani smiled and waved at her clothes.
Rylana braced herself for a comment about her short hair or her soldier-ish look.
“Dragons like warriors,” was what he said. “Since they’re natural predators, they’re drawn to those who, ah, what is the human term?Kick ass.”
“I don’t do that,” she murmured.
“Shoot ass?” Tassani pointed at her bow.
“Thatis in my wheelhouse, yes. Though I usually aim for the eyes, especially when we’re talking about dragons. They don’t have a lot of vulnerable spots. Especially not on their posteriors.”
“I’ve observed that as well.” Tassani winked at her.
Rylana didn’t know how to respond. It almost seemed like he was flirting, but thathadto be in her imagination.
Jildarin withdrew the bread from the oven—funny how even shape-shifted dragons didn’t need hot mitts—and placed it on the offering pedestal beneath the statues. The troll shaman took a couple of steps, knelt before it, and renewed her singing as the fresh bread wafted delectable scents toward the noses of those statues.
His duty done, Jildarin climbed out of the sunken temple to stand beside Rylana.
“My partner is fearless when battling dragons and other threats,” he said, proving he’d been listening to the conversation.
“I believe you.” Tassani nodded to him, then looked around. “I suspect that I’m not needed here. I will report to my people that the curse should be lifted soon.”
“I don’t think that’s a certainty. The aquatic yeast that we collected and the liberty that was taken with the recipe…” Rylana looked to Jildarin, wondering if he believed the bread was close enough in spirit to what the trolls—and hopefully the trollgods—considered sacred to satisfy them.
“The bread baked into an excellent loaf,” Jildarin stated. “I did not, however, presume to taste it and determine if it’s palatable.”
“You didn’t even stick your tongue out to lick it a couple of times?” Rylana asked.
“I did not.”
“It’s glowing,” Tassani said. “The bread, that is. Not your tongue, Lord Dragon.”
“I assumed,” Jildarin said. “Dragon tongues do not glow.”
“If they did, you truly would have difficulty keeping female dragons away,” Tassani said with a smirk.
Jildarin looked sourly at him.
“Never mind. I will leave now to deliver my report. I will inform my people that you both played a role in lifting the curse.” Tassani bowed to them both, then headed off to talk to the gnome captain before departing.
“Do you think that means the elves will look kindly upon me and stop trying to drag me away to question about my friends?” Rylana asked, though she had onlyonefriend that their people found objectionable. “I should have told him that Sylin also helped, but, in case he didn’t know she was here, I didn’t want to mention her name. I think she would prefer it if they forgot about her altogether.”
