Page 13 of Morel Dilemma

“Let’s try my plan first.” Rylana didn’t know how much he’d heard of her discussion with Zilek and said, “I’m going with your brother to his wine club tonight to hopefully talk to Aztor or, if he isn’t there, his wife. Something’s happened to change Aztor’s mind about us as tenants, and I want to figure out what.”

“You will accompany Zilek to the wine conclave?” His surprised raising of eyebrows suggested he’d been too distracted by lamenting the possible loss of his diner to listen in on that conversation.

“To gather information, yes.”

Jildarin’s brow wrinkled.

“You don’t approve? Do you think he was lying earlier and that he will attempt to kill me?” Maybe Rylana’s plan to arrive early, before Zilek, was even better than she’d guessed.

“He rarely lies outright to me, but he occasionally—frequently—withholds information.”

“I’ll be careful, but I want to get to the bottom of why our landlord suddenly wants to kick us out. I’d prefer to learn that without resorting to incineration.”

“Incineration threats,” Jildarin said.

“If it helps,” Zalani said, “judging from comments I’ve overheard from Lord Zilek, it’s more likely that he’ll attempt to woo Rylana than kill her.”

“Woo?” Jildarin asked, as if he hadn’t heard the term before.

Rylana knew he had—recently—and that he was aware of what it meant.

“He seems to enjoy human and elven companionship.” Zalani shrugged.

“That is true,” Jildarin said, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Rylana again. “And, yes, he has observed that your face is without blemishes or scars, and your lips are full and your breasts an ample size to draw the eye. His eye.”

Rylana’s cheeks heated as she recalled the conversation she’d overheard where Zilek had said exactly that about her. She was surprised Jildarin not only remembered it but could quote the words verbatim.

“If he gives you soup, you will not drink it,” Jildarin said sternly, holding her gaze.

Normally, Rylana would have objected to being given an order, but that wasn’t one she would consider disobeying. “I absolutely will not.”

“Do not drink wine that he has poured for you either. He knows as surely as I how to acquire dragon spices, and a strongly flavored beverage could easily mask their taste.”

“I doubt he wants to drug me into having sex with him, but if he tries, I’ll stab the hand offering me a spiced libation with a fork.” Rylana made a fencing motion in the air.

“You will stab him with a knife,” Jildarin said. “Multiple times.”

“Your dragon tendency toward violence is seeping out today,” Rylana said as Zalani and Tranklin, who’d finished his measurements and was waiting for her to try on a dress, raised their eyebrows. Even the golem’s smooth, hairless brow twitched.

“Because I would be furious if my brother attempted to seduce my partner,” Jildarin stated without apology. “That is unacceptable behavior, and you…” He stretched a hand in the air toward her as he groped for a way to finish the sentence. “You are the reason the business is now profitable. You are valuable. Zilek will not lay his libidinous hands on you.” Jildarin skewed her with a surprisingly intense look that made her flush with warmth before he nodded and said, “I must return to prepare for the evening meal and to read more about enchanted morel mushrooms. Never before has a dragon had to research such a thing. Enchanted rhinoceros is much more to the tastes of my kind.” Shaking his head, Jildarin tucked his book under his arm and walked out the door.

“Someday,” Zalani said, “I hope to meet a man who appreciates me the way Chef Jildarin appreciates you.”

“He does appreciate me, and that means a lot, but I do wish he’d looked at my boobs.”

“They’re very nice,” Zalani offered.

“Thank you.”

5

Zalani had to return for her shift at the diner, so Rylana was alone by the time the gnome tailor finished helping her pick out a dress and ensuring it fit perfectly. Of course, he’d added a chemise, lacy drawers, stockings, a braided belt, a shawl, and long white gloves, which were apparently the height of fashion at cultural events this year. Her outfit would simply be incomplete without them. She supposed Tranklin would be offended if she later wore the gloves to clean out the grease traps in the diner’s kitchen. It wasn’t as if she planned to make a habit of attending fancy cultural events.

When Rylana stepped out of the boutique into the late-afternoon sun, a cloaked and hooded figure gliding out of a nearby alley made her jump.

“I understand you’re looking for me.” Sylin curiously considered the dusty-sage chiffon dress and accompanying accessories bundled and draped in a protective wrap over Rylana’s arm.

“Yes. How long have you been lurking?”