Page 100 of Ale Storm

“If you moved into a grotto, would you expect me to move my bedroom set into it with you?”

“Of course. You are my… business partner.” He gazed at her, then sighed and looked at the plaque again. “Later, I will see if your father requires me to prove myself further before…” He sighed again.

Rylana hadn’t mentioned the reward she’d requested from King Ekton. Since she didn’t yet know if anything would come of it, she didn’t want to get Jildarin’s hopes up. Or her hopes either. But now that the horn was gone and her life at the diner could return to normal—as normal as working at a diner run by a dragon could ever be—maybe they could finally find time for an uninterrupted date.

“Sleeping in an underground grotto has less appeal to a human than a dragon,” Rylana said.

“Hm.”

A few diners who’d been lingering over the remains of their lunches departed, and Gniknik and Rolf wandered out together for a break before dinner preparations began. Zalani cleared the remaining dishes, then brought over a newspaper someone had left on a table.

“I thought you might like to see what the food critic wrote,” she said, resting it on the bar.

It was already open to the culture page, and Rylana braced herself.

Dragon Diner Elevates Pedestrian Dwarven Fare — Two Hammers Up.

“It’s a good review?” Rylana skimmed it, not surprised the critic had said nice things about the food, but he’d been there for the mayhem of the poisoning, and he’d seen dwarves rolling on the floor, grabbing their stomachs.

“Yes, indeed,” Zalani said. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” Rylana murmured, continuing through the article.

“As expected,” Jildarin stated.

“Ah.” Reading aloud, Rylana shared the last line. “Since this establishment is run by a dragon, you can, of course, expect a degree of entertainment while you dine. Choose a table in the back and enjoy!”

“Entertainment.” Jildarin grunted, sounding less pleased by the ending.

But Rylana was delighted. That had been a very kind way to sum up the end of the meal. She vowed to give that critic a free meal or five the next time he visited.

Jildarin, hands resting to either side of the plaque, stared at it for a moment. A hint of smoke wafted up, the scent of burning wood tinging the air. King Ekton’s name appeared under the queen’s, and Jildarin nodded at his handiwork.

“Maybe,” Rylana said, “if the building next door were available, it could be turned into a suitable dragon lair, one conveniently adjacent to the diner but not in the diner. A little work-life separation wouldn’t be a bad idea for you. And you could have a dwarven engineer plaster rocks over the walls and cover the windows.” She spoke half-jokingly, but Jildarin looked at her with interest.

“That idea has merit. You would sleep in such a structure?”

“Uhm, maybe if some windows could be left uncovered…”

“That would be acceptable.” Jildarin gazed at her with approval, and his eyelids drooped, his expression growing a touch sultry. He moved the plaque aside and rested his hand on hers. Zalani had departed, so they were alone now in the diner. “If we had a private lair that was less frequently invaded, ransacked, and stuffed with deliveries, we could…”

The front door opened, and Rylana’s father walked in.

Jildarin pulled his hand from hers and turned to face him. Rylana regarded her father warily, wondering if the king had yet had an opportunity to visit him. And, if so, what had Father thought of their meeting?

He was dressed in a beaver-fur cap and fur-lined cloak today, the summer weather cooler than usual, with fog lingering over the lake. In one hand, he carried something wrapped in a white silver-trimmed kerchief.

“He bears something magical,” Jildarin murmured.

“It had better not be another chore for you,” Rylana murmured back.

Father stopped a few feet away, looking at them both, and was his expression a touch wry?

“Chef Jildarin,” he said formally, “I have decided that you’ve performed adequately at the tasks I’ve requested you carry out.”

“More than adequately,” Rylana said, thinking of the long-lost treasure chest that Jildarin had deposited on the lawn.

Jildarin stood straight, his expression intent as he regarded her father.