Page 30 of Ale Storm

“The terrace and pergola were excellent ideas to increase business.” Jildarin nodded at her. “I am certain that people are also vastly impressed, knowing that the offerings created by a Golden-Whisk-winning chef enticed the elven queen to dine here.”

“I agree that they’re impressed by the food you make.”

“I do ensure that is also excellent.”

“Yes, you do. For the record, you don’t need a plaque full of names to get people to come.”

“Certainly not.”

“But I’ll mention in my letter that you would like the king to dine here.”

“Excellent. Ask him for a list of his favorite foods, but inform him that I am practiced in appealing to the dwarven palate. Should he have requests or not, I can assuredly construct a meal to engage his taste buds while satisfying his entire body. I particularly excel at roasting tunnel rabbits, sautéing subterranean creek crabs, and tenderizing even the tough and stringy mountain murdok into an excellent stew. Those are dwarven staples. He’ll understand all about them, but go into as much detail as you believe appropriate to entice him.”

“Is it all right if I mention the horn somewhere among all those details?”

Jildarin’s eyebrows might have twitched slightly at her dryness. “After inviting him to the diner, yes.”

“I’m glad you’re here to coach me on the proper ordering of affairs in letters to royalty.”

“You are glad I’m here.” His eyelids drooped, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Yeah, I am.” Rylana leaned close and would have kissed him, but Gniknik returned to the kitchen. “Chef, there’s a, uhm, quite sultry female elf here to see you. Rolf is offering to take her to a booth while describing superior goblin services—and expected goblin tips—but I think she’s a⁠—”

Jildarin’s head snapped up, and he looked toward the front room. “Killaynia.”

He growled and strode into the hallway.

“—dragon,” Gniknik finished and looked at Rylana.

She grimaced. She didn’t recognize the name. Hopefully, this wasn’t another fertile—also known as horny—female dragon who wanted Jildarin to mate with her.

“She didn’t say anything about me, did she?” Rylana asked.

“No,” Gniknik said. “And, if I were you, I would consider that a good thing. The look she was giving Rolf could have descaled a triggerfish. I don’t know if he’s very brave, very foolish, or just determined to make extra coin before his new baby arrives.”

“All of those, maybe.” Rylana decided to stay in the kitchen and let Jildarin handle the visitor.

Thus far, no roars of outrage had come from the dining room. That was a good sign.

Despite her decision to stay put, Rylana only squelched her curiosity for a moment before leaning through the swinging door to peer toward the dining room. Cheerful chatter came from the full booths and bar stools, so the dragon couldn’t be threatening anyone, but where was she? Ah, there. Jildarin and the shape-shifted dragon stood near the front door.

She was beautiful with pointed elven ears rising from lush golden hair. She had full pouting lips, a perfect nose, arched cheekbones, and curves any man would love to trace with his hands. She faced Jildarin and reached out to rest a hand on his shoulder as she gazed at him without speaking. Or was she communicating telepathically? Jildarin’s face was masked, so Rylana couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His stance wasn’t inviting, but he didn’t push her hand away either.

Was it possible some less offensive and demanding female dragon was visiting? One who might actually tempt him to mate?

Tamping down jealousy that wanted to surge up, Rylana told herself not to be foolish. All she should be worried about when it came to female dragons was if they had plans to kill her.

After the blonde pointed out the window, Jildarin nodded, gave orders to Rolf to keep the service going, then walked out the front door with her. Neither he nor the dragon looked back toward the kitchen—toward Rylana.

“That’s fine,” she told herself. “I have a letter to write.”

Only after the dragons were gone did it occur to her that she hadn’t gotten a chance to ask what her father had asked Jildarin to do to prove himself.

9

“Are you going to post that as well as your letter?” Sylin asked as she and Rylana jogged along the lakefront, the Tranquility post office their destination.

“This?” Rylana tapped the horn bouncing on her chest. She’d found a piece of twine and tied it so she could carry it across her body like a tote and not lose it. Maybe it wasn’t wise to wear it openly, but if the dwarves trying to get ahold of it knew she had it with her, they ought to be less likely to ransack the diner searching for it.