Page 29 of Morel Dilemma

The actress wrote her name and an address on the card. “That’s my room. I’d love for you to come to the show and maybe visit me afterward.” She handed it to Jildarin. “Just leave your assistant at the diner.” She pointed at Rylana.

Jildarin returned the now-signed paper to the woman and looked in puzzlement at Rylana. “This is my business partner and bookkeeper.”

“That’s fine,” she said, “but leave her behind. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Jildarin shook his head and continued toward the door.

“I can promise you a good time,” the woman called after him.

A couple of nearby men snickered. Rylana looked around for Zilek, half-expecting him to swoop in and ask the woman for her address for himself. But he was ambling toward one of the cellars in the back with⁠—

It was Rylana’s turn to blink in surprise. And gape. He’d linked arms with the towering ogre female and was leading her into one of the small, temperature-controlled cellars. To show her the rare vintages, no doubt.

“Your brother must be adventurous,” Rylana said as she climbed the wide flagstone steps at Jildarin’s side.

“He is not as quick to fly into battle as some, but he proved himself a brave and capable combatant during the war.”

“I meant in regard to… never mind.”

They’d reached the top of the stairs, a mixture of horse-drawn and steam-powered carriages waiting out front. In the center of the street, a knee-high cleaning contraption on wheels whirred past, then paused above recently deposited horse droppings. With a rumble-clank, followed by a thwump noise, heat and magic flared from its underbelly. In an instant, the droppings were incinerated, and the contraption continued on down the street.

Instead of heading for Zilek’s conveyance—or would they have to walk back?—Jildarin paused and looked down at the paper the woman had given to him.

“That female desired to mate with me, yes?” He didn’t sound certain.

“Yeah.”

“Do you think her interest was due to my physique and that I am a powerful dragon? Instead of my culinary skills?” A troubled crease marred his brow. “I only recognized two of the people in there as diners that we have hosted. Also, there was a couple who was among the audience at the Golden Whisk, but they did not approach me.

Jildarin had a better memory than she; Rylana hadn’t recognized any of their faces.

“I don’t know,” she said. “Sometimes, humans especially are more attracted to those who are famous and have wealth.”

“Because of my current lack of access to the clan hoard, I am not monied at this time.”

“You’re a little famous though after winning that contest. And people who don’t know anything about that can sense your dragonness. Even in this form, you do radiate power, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“I am aware.” Jildarin gazed pensively down the stairs.

“You’d be more flattered if someone were drawn because of your cooking skills?” Rylana guessed. Since he wasn’t interested in her, she didn’t want him to be drawn to the flirty woman or anyone else, but that was petulant and immature, so she tried to keep her tone from being dismissive.

“It is what I desire to be recognized for, though it is more important that the perception of people toward dragons be improved, not that I gain notoriety.” After another moment of gazing down the stairs, he admitted, “I would be more flattered if one appreciated me for the art that I’ve worked hard to perfect, one that is not as natural for my kind to excel at as others.”

“Like pyrography?”

He snorted. “We are most skilled at that.”

Wheels clattered across cobblestones, the dwarf coachman pulling up with Zilek’s carriage.

“You recognize my cooking skill and appreciate my food,” Jildarin said, his gaze shifting to Rylana.

“Oh, yes. I pledged my undying loyalty to you the first time you rubbed coffee on something and gave it to me.”

“I do not recall you pledging loyalty to me,” he said, though his chin lifted, and he looked pleased.

“I didn’t want to inflate your ego, so I only did it in my mind.”

His eyelids drooped. Was he trying to tell if she was speaking the truth? “Tomorrow, I will make you the coffee-rubbed bacon.”