Page 20

Chapter 20

Kaya

I sprint toward the fight, my lungs tight with worry. “Stop it! Sio, no!”

Cyrus flies past me. He has Sio by the back of the neck and pulled away from the gryphon before I can blink twice. Sio wriggles, howls, and spits. The shrub gryphon, its pelt sticking up in spots, lets out a snarl in Sio’s direction. It begins digging up the ground around a patch of flowers, like he is glad to be done with the maplecat and back to his earthy endeavors. Cyrus lowers Sio to the ground.

“I suppose I must thank you for drawing me out of my rage,” Sio says.

Cyrus just stares. “I…”

“I’ll find you both tonight by scent,” Sio says. “Have a good day.”

“Bye!” I wave as Sio trots out of the courtyard and toward the city.

Cyrus runs a hand through his hair. “About fifty thoughts have come into my head, but I’ll just say that Tully could sell the king’s weight in gryphon repellent spells here.”

Then I realize I forgot something that I was looking forward to. “Ah, no.”

“What is it?”

“I meant to save us a few treats. It’s a tragedy that we had to smell them all the way here, and we don’t even get a single bite.”

Cyrus’s grin turns devilish. He’s painfully handsome when he has that naughty look. He pulls a small bundle from his cloak and holds it out. I unwrap a linen napkin to see exactly what I forgot—two perfect chocolate croissants.

“After all these years, I’m an expert at stealing your pastries, Kaya.”

I laugh. “You’re a menace.”

“I’m your menace.”

A smile stretches my face, but then my stomach flips and I fully absorb the way he said that. What does he mean? It sounded like…

And then he is putting the treat to my lips and I can’t do anything but bite into the flaky, buttery layers. The chocolate is soft and just the right level of sweet.

I shut my eyes and savor the taste. “Yummmm.”

When I open my eyes, Cyrus is staring at my mouth. He coughs and sets the rest of my treat in my hand and takes a quick bite of his own.

“Come,” he says, not looking at me. “Let’s go have some fun.”

I probably am reading too much into everything at this point. That kiss tangled me into knots.

Outside the courtyard, the city is a storm of sounds and smells. It’s a feast you can live inside, and now that I have finished delivering my goods and all that is settled, I feel more capable of enjoying this. Plus, the gleam in Cyrus’s eyes raises my spirits further. He was made for adventure like this and more. I sigh and trail him into the market proper, where he begins haggling with a hemp bag merchant.

“For this size bag, I wouldn’t go that high now…” Cyrus turns the satchel this way and that, his eyebrow lifting and his scales catching the afternoon sun’s warm light. His tail swishes behind him in the way it does when he’s enjoying a challenge. “I’ll give you this much and not a copper more.” His taloned fingers uncurl to drop coins into the merchant’s hand.

“I’m being robbed,” the merchant mutters. But he slides the coins into the small box on his table and is already seeking his next customer.

The next spot features bright silks, wools, and linens. I run my hand down a draped length of purple-dyed linen that would look so pretty as an apron.

“Let me get it for you,” Cyrus says at my shoulder.

His body is so close that his heat seeps into me. I take a slow breath to calm my heart, wishing he didn’t affect me so strongly.

“No, you don’t need to do that. But thank you anyway.”

“I know I don’t need to. I want to.”

My cheeks flush, and he’s already passing a coin to the fabric merchant, a tall faerie with a square jaw in direct contrast to his rounded, sparkling wings. The merchant seems unwilling to barter and has his prices jotted on parchment here and there around the display.

Cyrus tucks the fabric into the satchel he bought. “Consider it a congratulatory gift for your big sale.”

I smile and try not to fall in love with him. He’s just so wonderful sometimes. He studies my face and I turn, the look too intense to maintain.

“You know, none of these folks are reacting oddly to you being a dragon shifter. That must mean they see your kind from time to time.”

“True,” he says. “I’ve thought of that in the past. I even asked some folks about what they knew of my kind, but no one ever had anything to say beyond what I already knew.”

I’m sad for him. Despite his many friends, he has to feel incredibly lonesome sometimes.

We shop more, examining a table of mechanized timekeepers.

“I don’t think I want a fine clock like this,” Cyrus says, holding up a brass and shell contraption that one only winds once a week. “No need to keep that good of an eye on how much time I waste.”

I chuckle, and we move on to an array of utensils and my heart throbs almost as hard as it does when Cyrus stands close.

“Baking tools!” I practically leap onto the merchant who has shelves and shelves of flippers, dividers, thin parchment paper, whisks, and finely painted mixing spoons.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Cyrus grinning at me.

The merchant is a goblin with black eyes and a sweet smile. “I can tell you know your way around a kitchen.”

“I do!”

“She just delivered all the baked goods for the queen’s tea,” Cyrus says with a bragging tone.

I blush and study a whisk made of some light wood. “What’s this made of?”

“Bamboo from across the sea,” the goblin says. “Isn’t it just a feather in your hand?”

“It’s divine. I’ll take two.”

Once I pay the merchant, we decide it’s time to find a room and a meal for the night. The first two inns we try are full. The third inn is a three-story structure with a thatched roof that leans over the front door like a troll’s shadow. Cyrus opens the door for me and we enter the warm establishment.

There’s a bard at one end of the main room, and he’s singing a soft song and playing a small harp with the head of a mermaid. The fire snaps and crackles from the other side of the room, where a group of humans and monsters alike share laughs and raise their mugs to toast something. Long tables run across the place, echoing the lines of the beams on the ceiling. There is a set of stairs that leads to a corridor, presumably where patrons sleep.

The familiar scent of lavender and bread sifts through the air, and I trail Cyrus to the half-counter where the bangs and clatters of a busy kitchen come from around a corner. This is the largest building I’ve been in, not counting the castle keep, but it’s still very cozy.

“I love this place,” I say to the curly-haired woman standing and smiling at us behind the half-counter.

“Thank you, good woman. Can I get you two a meal? A room?” She wiggles her eyebrows, then laughs at what I’m sure is my extremely nervous expression.

Cyrus winces at me and takes the lead. “We would love whatever you have for dinner. Kaya, what do you want to drink? I’ll have an ale.”

“Ale is fine.” I smile, glad he asked me, unlike the stupid wool merchant.

“And we need two rooms,” Cyrus says.

I offer up the money before Cyrus can try to pay. “This is on me. A business expense.”

“But I can pay for my half…”

“No, I won’t hear another word.” I grin at the innkeeper, who nods and tucks the money into the bag at her belt.

“The only trouble is that we just have one room left. Will that be all right?”

“Are there two beds?” Cyrus asks.

“Aye. Two small cots and a blanket for each.”

Thank the Blessed Stones for that. I can’t share a bed with Cyrus. I do not have that kind of willpower. I’d be curled up next to his wonderful heat before sunrise for certain. I wouldn’t be able to resist!

That night, we head upstairs and I use the skeleton key to unlock the door. The room isn’t too tiny, but the beds, well…

“That is not two beds.”

“No, it is not.”

“That is, in fact, only one bed.”