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 aset 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…”
