Page 36 of Ale Storm

A few scrapes and clunks reverberated through the ferry as it bumped against the dock, crewmen tying it up and waving for people to depart. The shape-shifted dragon didn’t try to board. She looked at Rylana and spoke into her mind.

Come here, human.

Power laced the words, and the urge to promptly obey swept into Rylana.

I will meet you and discuss Jildarin with you.

“Goodie,” Rylana answered aloud. “I love meeting and chatting with new dragons about him.”

Sylin, who presumably hadn’t heard the telepathic summons, gave her a sidelong look. “That’s not a healthy hobby. You should stick to archery and math.”

“I’ll keep your advice in mind.”

Telling herself it wasn’t magical power that compelled her off the ferry, Rylana strode onto the dock. She wanted to continue past the waiting dragon and head to her father’s castle, but she didn’t want to bring trouble to his doorstep. Besides, her feet shifted route, seemingly of their own accord, and she found herself face to face with the blonde.

I am Killaynia.

A dragon with the word kill in her name. That boded well.

“Rylana,” she said.

“Rylana,” the dragon said slowly and aloud.

Was she trying to imprint the name in her memory? Or maybe she didn’t shape-shift often and wasn’t that used to employing vocal cords and lips for communicating. She hadn’t spoken aloud in the diner, Rylana recalled.

“During the war, it was Sergeant Falcon,” Killaynia added, not speaking slowly now.

“Yup. I’m touched you remember.” Rylana doubted Jildarin had been the one to bring it up, but who knew what they’d spoken of that morning.

“I told our mother that Jildarin fought nobly and daringly while leading well for many years during the war,” Killaynia said, “and deserved a respite and to be left alone to pursue whatever hobbies he wished for a time. I will admit, however, that I did not expect he would take up mating with humans, especially humans who battled and slew our kind.”

“Our mother?” Rylana asked. “Are you Jildarin’s sister?”

“I was less surprised when Zilek adopted that pastime. After all, he appointed himself a spy and went behind enemy lines numerous times to gather intelligence by seducing female dwarf, orc, and human officers. Nobody was that impressed by the pittances of information he brought back.”

A soft snort came from the side. Sylin leaned against a piling several feet away, sipping her coffee and gazing out toward the lake, but she was listening.

“This matter does not concern you, elf,” Killaynia said.

“She’s dating Zilek,” Rylana said. “She needs to know all about his proclivities.”

Sylin shot her a dark look.

Rylana smiled at her.

“Dating,” Killaynia mouthed, as if the word weren’t familiar.

“As in love with his own tongue as he is,” Sylin murmured into her flask, “it’s a wonder Zilek managed to gather any intelligence at all.”

“Jildarin hasn’t spoken much about having sisters.” Rylana watched Killaynia’s face, trying to tell if anything about the dragon suggested she was indeed related to Jildarin.

This could be a ruse. Killaynia might be another fertile female wanting him to mate with her. Maybe she was pretending to be a reasonable relative so she could lure Rylana away from the protection of the nearby pillar to slay her.

“Most of the females that were born in his clutch are obstreperous and bossy,” Killaynia said. “It’s somewhat amazing that he’s so equable and unflappable. That combined with his fighting prowess is why so many more combative and hotheaded dragons accepted his leadership during the war. The independent and often aggressive nature of our kind doesn’t make us that easy to lead.”

“Imagine,” Rylana murmured.

“I am an older sister, however, not a clutch mate. A half sister, technically, though our kind don’t differentiate. Females usually choose different mates for different broods. We share the same mother. And, though we had different sires, we have in common that they’ve both passed.”