Page 42 of Shadows of Winter

Though it rankled, Kaylina attempted a conciliatory tone when she said, “It’s a term of endearment in the south.”

It was at least a common term there.

“It is not. You may call me Ranger Vlerion or Lord Vlerion.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Lord Superior and Special. Lording over all us peons.” All right, she was awful at conciliatory.

“It is the appropriate way for a commoner to address an aristocrat. Especially after luring away his mount.” Vlerion flicked an exasperated hand toward the taybarri, jaw clenching, and the dangerous glint in his eyes almost turned into more. She didn’t know what exactly, but did his pupils dilate? Like a cat’s? He took a breath, unclenched his jaw, and said, “We are attempting to keep people from noticing that there is an affiliation between the rangers and this project, and nothing is more rangerish than a taybarri.”

Crenoch whuffed, then blew hot air across Vlerion’s face. Sadly, his hair was too short to be messed up.

After giving the taybarri a sidelong you’re-not-being-properly-respectful-either look, Vlerion dug something out of a pouch fastened to his belt. A flat oval that looked like compressed sawdust. He held it out.

Using his teeth instead of his tongue, Crenoch plucked it up and chewed it. He didn’t lick his lips.

“What’s that?” Kaylina asked.

“We call them protein pellets. They’re desiccated elk and moose muscle meat mixed with liver and brain and held together with suet.”

“Yum.”

Vlerion’s eyes closed to slits. “They’re nutritious, don’t spoil for a long time, and the taybarri like them.”

“They like honey more.”

Crenoch whuffed in agreement.

“Honey isn’t nutritious.” Since Vlerion glared at them equally, Kaylina didn’t know if he was speaking to her or the taybarri. Probably both.

“It goes longer than suet without spoiling,” she said. “It doesn’t ever spoil. Maybe you should use it as the binder in your, ah, protein pellets.”

Crenoch's second whuff sounded like a cheer.

Vlerion did not look amused.

Frayvar, maybe hoping to distract the ranger from his irritation, grabbed the pack. “I’ll take this inside to protect the rest of the contents from uninvited marauders who were solely and completely responsible for acquiring their own honey.”

Vlerion’s lips twisted, as if he didn’t believe that.

What, did he think Kaylina had spent the day wandering the streets of Port Jirador with honeycomb, looking for a taybarri to suborn?

Vlerion sighed and faced Crenoch, clasping him on either side of his broad snout so their eyes met. “Go back to the stables where the other taybarri are obediently staying without using their magic to pass through fences or unlock the gates. We don’t want to endanger these people—” Without glancing at her, Vlerion pointed toward Kaylina, “—by letting others know they’re associated with the rangers.”

Remembering her promise to the castle that she wasn’t associated with the rangers, Kaylina glanced toward the stone walls. Did the curse extend to the courtyard outside? Could the castle hear spoken words and understand them? She had no idea, but most of the murders it had shown her, all save the one in the forest, had taken place within its walls.

Crenoch let out a soft whuff that might have indicated an acknowledgment, then turned for the exit.

“And don’t come back here,” Vlerion added. “No matter how much honey she plies you with.”

The taybarri’s thick tail swung around, swatting Vlerion in the hip on the way out.

Kaylina wished it had been a swat on the ass, a thought that put a smile on her face. Vlerion turned in time to catch the expression.

She dropped the smile and asked, “You said he can understand us?” to distract him.

“They understand a lot. Crenoch will return to the stables.”

“And not come back here to mooch more honey?”

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