Page 9 of When the Baker Met the Dragon

Cyrus chuckles. “Yes, but I won’t hold it against you.”

Humans can be so oblivious and even rude when it comes to dealing with Veil folk. “Thanks. Did he try to poke and prod you?”

Raising an eyebrow, Cyrus grins. His elbow brushes my arm as we place the last of the scones on the rack. “He’s not my type.”

I give him a stern look. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Ifyouwanted to do any poking or prodding, I’m yours.”

When we first met, I found far too much joy in this flirting he does, but I know now this is just his normal behavior with almost everyone. He doesn’t like me like that. We are firmly justfriends. Despite what my head knows, my body remains under the influence of his considerable charm. My cheeks heat and my mouth goes dry.

“You better behave, dragon. I have a magical cat on my side now and his teeth are legendary.”

Sio bares said chompers at Cyrus, who grimaces and holds up his hands.

“All right. I’ll be a good lad,” Cyrus says. “I swear it.”

“Don’t go promising things you can’t deliver,” I say, laughing.

While we drizzle the icing over the scones, Cyrus goes on with his story.

“This tourist said he is headed up to the ruins because the old castle was once owned by a dragon shifter.”

I drop my icing bowl and Cyrus darts forward. He catches it neatly and returns it to me. When his fingers brush mine, my skin tingles like he has loosed a few sparks over my hand. He looks from his hand to my face and his eyes have gone serious.

“He knows that place is cursed, right?” I say quickly, trying to smooth over the awkward vibe happening between us. “Did you warn him?”

“Of course, I did.” The serious look fades from Cyrus’s expression; he appears legitimately afraid. “But I didn’t get the idea that he was going to listen to anyone’s advice.”

“That type, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Itskat this fellow human who must also be an idiot. I gather the bowls and bring them to the pump sink. “So you were talking to him and trying to keep him from going up there?”

Cyrus leans over me to dampen a small towel. “Yes, and I went to Rustion. He sent some guards to the ruins to keep them off the grounds.”

“That was a good move. They’ll listen to liveried guards, surely.”

“Or we will end up with a few dead tourists on our hands,” he says, wiping up the flour I dusted over the wooden counter.

“Do you truly think the curse is what killed Bentaki?” I ask.

He tosses me the towel. I catch it and lob it into the basket by the back door.

“Nice shot,” he says. “It’s impossible to know about Bentaki, but I think so and most other Veil folk agree.”

“You all do have a good sense for the magic in your realm.”

He spreads his hands and his wings shuffle behind him. “It’s part of us.”

“Maybe we should find a good stopping point here and go check on the man,” I say.

“I don’t know, he seems like trouble. Even though he did say he could help me find out about my bloodline.”

I grip his arm. “That would be amazing!”

He’s only ever brought up his clouded history once when he was deep in his cups at Yule years ago. He was left by his shifter parents and has very little memory of them. He was raised by Robin and Lucretia, two humans who ran the pub before him.