Page 51 of Morel Dilemma

Tassani didn’t ask if there was still a lack of availability, and Rylana, thinking of the recent conversation she’d had with Jildarin about beds and nests, also didn’t bring up the subject.

“So it’s a matter of convenience and signifies nothing more?” Tassani asked.

“Correct.”

“And the fact that you let her ride on your back also does not signify more?”

“When I need her assistance somewhere that I may fly to as a dragon much more quickly than I could walk as a human, it is logical for me to change shapes and carry her with me.”

Rylana didn’t point out he’d been willing to take her to the troll ruins on one of their outings, more because she’d needed his assistance than vice versa.

“Excellent. Thank you for clarifying that matter.” Tassani bowed to Jildarin, then rested a hand on Rylana’s shoulder. “Should you deign to accompany me to the coffee shop later, I will look forward to it.”

“I will too,” Rylana said, deciding coffee with him wouldn’t hurt, and maybe she would enjoy it.

Jildarin eyed Tassani’s hand, then looked at her and at him. Was he trying to figure something out?

“Is your goal to have recreational coitus with Rylana?” he asked.

Tassani lowered his arm. “I thought we would start with a biscotti.”

The way Jildarin tilted his head suggested he didn’t know if that had been a yes or no.

“Dates are about getting to know a new companion and exploring compatibility,” Tassani added.

Rylana barely stifled a groan, wondering why he felt compelled to explain this to Jildarin. Fortunately, Layothlee walked out of the boathouse, and he dropped the subject.

“Was your meeting all that you hoped?” Rylana asked lightly, glad to talk about something else.

“It was… interesting.” Layothlee didn’t sound disappointed, but she wasn’t exactly bright and excited either. More bemused, maybe. “She’s terse.”

“In my experience,” Rylana said, “loquacious assassins are a rarity.”

“It was hard to get a gauge on whether she detests me and all things elven or if she’s just a touch aloof.”

“Did she throw anything of yours in the lake or threaten you with a throat slitting?”

“No.”

“That’s a good sign.”

“I suppose. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked her so many questions about herself. Maybe she found that off-putting. Do you know she’s never learned to play an instrument? That’s so typical in our family that I’m surprised she wasn’t drawn to learn once she joined civilization.”

“Our mercenary company might not have counted as civilization. Hardly anyone carried instruments into battle, though I suppose Corporal Flixon did a reasonable job of playing ditties on his armpit.”

“I wonder if she’d like to learn. An instrument, that is. Or some of the other… civilized things that are common at the royal court.”

“Like what? Painting and sculpting?”

“Oh, yes. One of my aunts makes beautiful surface protectors for furniture out of silk gathered from the trollfoot arachnids kept in the sericulture forests.”

“Doilies out of spiderwebs?” Rylana translated. “How strange that the wolves didn’t instruct Sylin on that craft.”

Layothlee chuckled. “I know that most of what our family does is culturally instilled in us and probably has nothing to do with our genetics. I guess I’m just surprised that she would have gone into… the field she did, no matter how she was raised. We do tend to be athletic, I suppose, with even the queen being renowned for her archery skills, but we’re also likely to be artists, singers, poets, teachers, and occasionally diplomats.”

“Sylin enjoys athletic endeavors.” Rylana thought of Layothlee vaulting herself through the air in rolls and somersaults. “Maybe you could challenge her to tumbling exercises the next time you meet.”

“I’m… not sure there will be a next time. I invited her to return to the enclave with me to meet the queen, but she wasn’t interested. I told her I could ensure that no elves attacked her—” Layothlee gestured toward Tassani, “—but she still said no.”