Page 72 of Morel Dilemma

When he gave her a somewhat baleful look over his shoulder, Rylana winked at him.

Before heading out of the city to a spot where he could legally land in his dragon form, Jildarin flew over the diner. A large black steam-powered carriage was parked in front of the coffee shop. Even before Rylana recognized the sun-and-harpoon logo on the sides and top, she knew with sinking certainty that her brother had arrived.

She’d wanted that, she reminded herself, and was a little surprised he’d bothered to come to the coffee shop, per the note she’d left behind. Especially given the threatening tenor of Jildarin’s message.

“Can you set me down there?” Rylana pointed to the carriage.

Should I descend in my dragon form, the odious pillars will blare their alarms.

“I know, but if you fly right back out of the area, the peacekeepers shouldn’t object that much, right?”

They have previously threatened to evict me from the city and close my diner.

“That’s my brother’s carriage. I need to talk to him to make sure he doesn’t get us evicted.” Rylana admitted that Frodin’s influence was only likely to get them expelled from their building, not the city, so maybe it wasn’t worth risking Jildarin flying down. But her brother might leave in the time it would take for them to walk from the outskirts of Tranquility to the diner.

Very well. If the queen’s offspring is there imbibing flavored water, inform her of the importance of her prompt arrival for the tasting and dinner tonight.

Rylana patted him on the scales again but didn’t agree to that. She doubted Sylin was in the coffee shop now and wouldn’t make that request, regardless.

The two nearest pillars started gonging once Jildarin was within fifty feet of the ground. He folded his wings in, aiming for the carriage.

You will place the morels carefully in the temperature-controlled cooling box in our kitchen before you speak with your kin, he stated as he landed on the carriage, directly atop the logo for Sun Whale Shipping.

“Will do.” Rylana slid off. “Thank you.”

Jildarin sprang into the air, passersby on the street gaping and pointing, with some of the wiser among them taking cover. A young woman called, “It’s the dragon chef! There’ll be extra good food this evening if he’s flown off to hunt for some!”

“True,” Rylana murmured as she climbed off the carriage.

Since it was controlled by magic, there wasn’t a driver for her to explain her arrival to. Before heading into the coffee shop, she made herself run into the diner to put away the mushrooms.

“Did you find them?” Zalani called when she spotted the sack.

Gniknik was following along behind a dusting and mopping contraption, pressing buttons and waving a wrench as his device sputtered and whirred, running a little lopsided.

“We were successful, yes.” Rylana showed them the sack before putting it away, grabbing the antique hunting horn from her belongings in the back, then jogging across the street.

She found Frodin standing between the carriage and the front door of the coffee shop, a beaver-fur cap perched on his tousled black hair, his broad shoulders looking like they belonged more to a wrestler than a businessman. Despite his athletic build, he had a hand on his carriage door and was looking toward the intersection, like he was considering fleeing. With Jildarin gone, the pillars had fallen silent, but people in the street were still speaking of the dragon sighting.

“Thanks for coming, Frodin,” Rylana said without commenting on the partially opened carriage door and his poised-to-flee stance.

“Oh, hello, Ry.” After glancing toward the other intersection and at the sky, he faced her. “Did you know that dragon left a threatening note at the office yesterday?”

“Yes, I was with him. He’s my business partner.”

“Right. I’d heard about… some of that.” Frodin waved vaguely. “Through Father and Tharla. I’ve also heard he can be surly.”

“Only if you’re trying to get him evicted from his building. Or having coitus in the dining room, though that doesn’t happen as often now that he’s adjusted the amount of dragon spices he uses in his soup.”

Frodin mouthed, “Coitus,” with a furrowed brow before focusing on the first sentence. “You figured out I had something to do with that, eh? I guess I knew that when I saw your note, though it only mentioned coffee.”

“Yes. Why are you trying to get us booted?”

“Really just you.”

“Jildarin is my partner. It’s his business that he started. I’m mostly the bookkeeper.”

“You always were good with numbers. Better than me. Which is why Father keeps talking with longing about you working in the business now that you’re back.” Frodin arched his eyebrows.