Zilek folded his arms over his chest and leveled his gaze not at his brother but at Rylana. “I’d thought to grant you a helpful warning while I’m here, but I’m less inclined to assist a female who doesn’t properly respect a dragon.”
“A warning for me?” Rylana couldn’t imagine what he would have learned at his wine club—conclave, as he called it—or any other snooty venue he attended that could be pertinent to her. Still, the memory of the troll idols and the strange magic of the castle came to mind, and she made herself say, “You’re very handsome in your human form and a stunning and powerful dragon. Any female would surely be delighted by your interest.” Her tone might have been a touch insincere and deadpan, but she managed to keep it from sounding too sarcastic.
Or so she thought. Eyebrows rising, Zilek told Jildarin, “Your new female isn’t as eager and acquiescent as I imagined when I suggested you let her serve you.”
“You knew she shot me during the war.”
“Ah, that’s right. I should have expected a degree of…” Zilek eyed Rylana. “Mouthiness.”
This time, she couldn’t refrain from sticking her tongue out at him.
He scratched his jaw as he regarded it. “Is that a human act of sexual interest?”
She’d never retracted her tongue so quickly as she did at that question. “No.”
“Alas. I will nonetheless deliver the warning I promised, though it is more for the beautiful elf who travels with you than for you yourself. She has some importance to you, presumably?”
“Some.” Not knowing what he was angling for, Rylana was reluctant to admit anything. All she knew was that far too many people were interested in Sylin these days.
Gniknik came in, and Rylana helped plate a few dishes as Zilek continued speaking.
“From what I heard while visiting the enclave to woo Lady Layothlee, a proven elven assassin who preys upon her own kind is known to be in Tranquility. Apparently, during the war, she killed an important general, who was a respected officer, harper, and painter, so, as soon as she was spotted, the elves here took note. Originally, they did not seek to slay her, per the rules of Tranquility, but now the queen is coming for a visit. Did you know that, Jildarin? Perhaps she will deign to dine in your quaint establishment. Now that the queen is coming, the assassin, it has been determined, must be vanquished. Permanently.”
Even though she’d had most of the information already, a chill went through Rylana at the termvanquished. Perhaps it had been naive, but she’d believed the elves might intend to drive Sylin out of the area, notkillher. Nobody was after Rylana, after all, and she’d killed enemies during the war as well. Maybe not general-harper-painters, but she’d sniped some of their military officers when the opportunity had arisen. It wasn’t that Rylanawantedthe elves to hunt her down, but it hardly seemed fair that they were targeting Sylin. Besides, during the southern battles, their people had killed just as many important humans, orcs, and dwarves as the joint kingdoms had elves and dragons. Two hells, their enemies had killed farmoreof the joint kingdoms’ commanders.
“You think the queen might eat here?” Jildarin asked his brother. “Has word of my victory in the Golden Whisk reached beyond the enclave and traveled to elven encampments in the south?”
“I’m certain I don’t know, but if you fly out to greet the queen, perhaps you can mention this place to her.” Zilek flicked indifferent fingers around the kitchen.
“Do you have any more information about the elves hunting for Sylin?” Rylana asked after Gniknik left, and she was pluckingdishes out of the tub to wash. Under other circumstances, she would be delighted if Jildarin could serve a queen, but with her friend in danger, she couldn’t bring herself to care about that at the moment. If anything, having the elven monarch here would only increase the patrols hunting for Sylin in the area.
“I do not. Oh, but speaking of courting, Jildarin, I almost forgot to tell you.”
“What?” Jildarin eyed his brother warily.
“Mother is irked with you.”
“That’s not news.”
“She isn’t pleased that you’re refusing to mate with the fertile females in our ally clans.”
Rylana grimaced, tempted to leave. But the stack of clean plates had dwindled, and she remembered the line to get into the diner. With many more customers to serve, she needed to keep washing dishes.
“Is she irked withyoufor chasing after an elf instead of one of our own kind?” Jildarin asked.
“No. I’m perfectly capable of satisfyingallfertile females who’ve an interest in me. I don’t know why you can’t bestir yourself to make the effort. You’re in the prime of your life, my brother. Bestirring shouldn’t be a problem.”
“I won’t becoercedinto mating by overly aggressive females. Or by anyone else.”
“So it’s a matter of pride.”
“Principle, pride, and a lack ofinterestin those sisters or any other females who presume I should be available for their needs on a whim.”
“Oh, they’re not being whimsical. Those sisters were quite premeditated and calculating.”
Jildarin growled.
Rylana scrubbed and kept her back to them.
