“Proximity,” he says.
“That’s it? Just... proximity?”
“Consistent presence. Not hovering—that will make her defensive. But being there. Reliable. Predictable.” Auren’s voice is clinical, as if he’s describing a research methodology rather than romance. “Eventually, she’ll become accustomed to you. Familiarity breeds comfort. Comfort breeds tolerance. Tolerance breeds trust. It’s a logical progression.”
“Your advice is to be so boring, she forgets to hate me?”
“I prefer to think of it as strategic persistence. Wear down her resistance through sheer mundane presence.”
“That’s the romantic equivalent of a siege,” Rurik says, sounding almost impressed. “Starve her into submission through weaponized boredom. I hate that it might actually work.”
“This is absurd.” I push back from the table. “I’m not taking relationship advice from a dragon whose idea of courtship involves property damage?—“
“Strategic property damage,” Rurik corrects.
“—a dragon whose mate had to practically browbeat him into admitting his feelings?—“
Drayke winces. “That’s fair.”
“—and a dragon who’s never had a relationship longer than a single conversation.”
“My conversations are very meaningful,” Auren says mildly. “Quality over quantity.”
Before I can respond, the hall door opens.
Selene walks in, takes one look at the four of us, and stops dead. Her gaze moves from Rurik’s manic grin to Drayke’s guilty expression to Auren’s studied neutrality to whatever’s showing on my face.
“Why do you all look like you’re planning something terrible?”
“We’re helping Zyphon with his love life,” Rurik announces proudly.
Selene’s expression shifts from suspicious to horrified. “Oh no.”
“I suggested grand gestures,” Rurik continues. “Fighting things. Dramatic swooping. Drayke said patience, which is boring. Auren recommended stalking, which is somehow even more boring but in a creepy way.”
“Absolutely not.” Selene crosses to the table, grabbing a piece of toast from Drayke’s plate as she passes. “If Zyphon’s romantic future depends on advice from you three, he’ll die alone. In a ditch. Surrounded by confused wildlife, wondering how he got there.”
“That’s oddly specific,” Auren notes.
“I’ve given this thought.” Selene bites into the toast, chewing thoughtfully. “Here’s the thing about Nasyra—she doesn’t need to be wooed. She doesn’t need grand gestures or patience or stalking. She needs to feel safe. She needs to understand that no one here is going to use her, hurt her, or demand anything from her.”
“That’s what I said,” Drayke protests. “Patience.”
“You said patience like it’s a strategy. A means to an end.” Selene shakes her head. “It’s not a strategy. It’s respect.” She looks at me, and her expression softens slightly. “She’s going to need time. Maybe a lot of it. Can you give her that without expecting anything in return?”
“Yes.”
“Even if she never feels what you want her to feel?”
The question cuts deep. But I don’t hesitate.
“Even then.”
Selene studies me for a long moment. Then she nods, apparently satisfied with whatever she sees.
“Good. Then ignore everything these idiots told you and just... be decent. Be present without being demanding. The rest will sort itself out.” She steals another piece of toast. “Or it won’t,and you’ll have to learn to live with that. But at least you won’t have made things worse by taking romance advice from dragons whose combined emotional intelligence wouldn’t fill a teacup.”
“I resent that,” Rurik says.
