Page 3 of Always Say Yes to a Dragon

“We have burgers, of course, and you can never go wrong with barbeque in my book.” I tried to steer their attention away from the dragons and toward food. Something local that wouldn’t be too far out of their comfort zone.

Bug-eyes made a noncommittal sound, attention still fixed behind me, but Blondie’s gaze slipped back to my face.

I couldn’t help but add, “Shrimp and grits are also a local favorite.” Just to see how they handled the suggestion.

He barely hid a grimace. “I’ve never had grits before. They look so…gelatinous.”

I smiled blankly while he dissed one of my favorite foods.

“If it’s a local delicacy, shouldn’t we try it? I’ll have that,” Blondie said.

“I think I’ll stick with the barbecue,” Bug-eyes said, mouth tight.

“Great, I’ll get that put in for y’all.”

The couple exchanged a look when I said “y’all.” I’d grown familiar with that particular look in the last eight months. It said:Real Southern Charm! How cute.

I suppressed an eye-roll. As much as I wanted newcomers to appreciate my hometown, their reactions felt a little condescending at times.

I rushed back to the dragon table to refill drinks, check on their food, and make myself scarce again. They were deep in discussing some business thing or another, as if even in the middle of Sunday brunch neither of them could think about anything else. I heard mention of “training programs” and “more taxes,” two phrases that made my throat tighten.

Every headline I’d seen in the past nine months had mentioned proposal after proposal, but the only thing I’d seen so far were skyrocketing prices. Seemed everyone wanted to get in on the ground floor of the latest dragon-claimed city, but the only people profiting were the out-of-towners moving in. Would their programs and taxes fix things, or make them worse?

Luckily, while Az’zael and Niemrin were eating I didn’t feel like I needed to watch them as closely, only checking on them every ten orfifteen minutes. I took the extra time to breathe and make sure my other tables were taken care of.

Every time I checked on them, Az’zael exposed his sharp teeth in the most unsettling version of a smile I’d ever seen, but I suspected it was just politeness. Something about the way this massive predator seemed to try so hard to put me at ease settled deep into my bones, relaxing my shoulders another notch.

When I’d cleared away both their plates and deemed that they’d had sufficient time not to feel rushed, I came back to the table.

“You’ve got the university taxes sorted out?” Niemrin asked Az’zael, picking something out of his teeth with one deadly sharp claw.

“Yes. They’ll get to you tomorrow,” Az’zael replied. He’d finally stopped staring at me every other second. “You’re doing something cool with them, right?”

“Relax, Super-sniffer. You handle the gold. I’ll handle the knowledge,” Niemrin said.

Az’zael was the public face, some bizarre combination of mayor and city manager, while Niemrin stayed in the background and had taken over the university, community college, and public libraries. A divide-and-conquer approach.

I vaguely remembered learning about dragon-claiming in high school history. Apparently it was a common medieval practice, but two dragons had brought back some bizarre, “modernized” version ten, maybe twelve years ago. They saw their “updated” approach as a way to solve contemporary urban problems. Since their city, Sutton, was thriving, it had caught on.

“Separate or together?” I asked softly, not wanting to interrupt if they were in the zone.

Az’zael’s golden gaze drifted over to me. “Together.” Then he exchanged looks with Niemrin, and the vibe shifted from all business to an odd sort of competitive.

I hightailed it back to the register and printed the check before I could learn what that was about. My fascination with dragons didnotneed any more fuel.

When I returned, things had only gotten weirder. Wrapping paper was strewn everywhere, and both dragons had small items cradled in their claws. Something about seeing those delicate gifts held so carefully sent wicked heat through me.

Niemrin held a set of fountain pens. Probably a luxury brand, if such a thing existed, and Az examined a diamond-studded watch.

“Mine’s more expensive,” Niemrin said with a sharp smile.

I couldn’t quite bring myself to slide the check to the center of the table and back away. If I did, I’d have to stop watching the bizarre exchange unfolding in front of me.

“Rainport stopped making pens fifty-four years ago. It took mehoursto track those down.” Az’zael’s chest puffed out.

I glanced between the two, feeling like I was watching two friends compare fantasy football stats.

“I’ll pay.” Niemrin slumped back before seeming to recall he sat in a backless barstool, and he straightened up again with a wing flap that pushed the hair off my face. “How do you always win these things?”

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