Page 26 of Ale Storm

“I do appreciate practicality in a suitor.”

“What’s that there?” Sylin pointed at the bottom of the page and smirked. “That he underlined twice?”

Since Sylin’s eyes were keen, Rylana had no doubt she’d already read the passage but obliged by saying, “Give gifts of song, poetry, or recite verses of courtly love.”

“Can I be there when he sings to you?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“If you’re a pest, I’ll give this book to Zilek and tell him you want to go on a second date with him.”

“Funny. I wouldn’t show up a second time. It was only as a great favor to you that I went today.”

“It didn’t sound like he was that bad.”

“He didn’t stop talking for an hour.”

“Yeah, but he accepted no for an answer after requesting sex, right? He’s a keeper.”

“I don’t know why I spend time with you.” Sylin took her empty plate to the sink. She’d polished every drop of gravy clean.

“Because I’m business partners with the best chef in town.”

“That must be it.” Sylin headed for the door. “I’m going to bed. Yell if you need help finding our chef.”

“You used to call him my dragon.”

“Eating his food is making me want to claim some ownership over him.”

“I’m sure Jildarin will be delighted to know that he belongs partially to you now.”

“Maybe he’ll get me a bedroom set,” Sylin said as she turned into the hallway.

“I’m sure Zilek would get you one.”

“You’re a loathsome comrade!” Sylin called back.

“And yet you moved into the attic of the bakery across the street to be close to me.”

“I moved there to be close to the scones.”

Rylana snorted as the front door thumped shut, then returned to the early chapter where the most underlining had been done. It was devoted to gaining the approval of the father of the woman one wanted to court.

“I’m afraid I guessed right and that he is over at the castle.” Even if she’d wanted to visit and check, it was late enough in the evening that there wouldn’t be any ferries until morning. And, unlike her harrier comrade, Rylana had no intention of running to the other side of the lake. “If he’s not back tomorrow, I’ll go over there and look for him.” She closed the book and returned it to the shelf.

By the time she had a small meal and cleaned up the kitchen, Rylana was yawning. She grabbed a lantern and headed to the storeroom, eager to climb into bed.

A cool draft from the storeroom surprised her in the hallway. A soft thump followed, and she lowered into a crouch. Had Jildarin come in? Or had… someone else?

Even though her innate ability to sense magic was almost nonexistent, her instincts told her there wasn’t a dragon in the storeroom. She crept back to the kitchen and grabbed her bow and quiver. Another soft thump sounded. Like a door banging in the wind.

Gripping her bow to use like a staff, she headed closer.

The storeroom was dark, but she could tell that one of the carriage doors was open. Yes, it was responsible for the noise. It kept swinging open and bumping against the wall. A breeze whispered in, stirring her short hair.

There was something on the floor. A lot of somethings. Lantern held out, she walked into the storeroom, grimacing as the light revealed a mess. Sacks of oats and flour had been upturned, barrels knocked over, and cans scattered everywhere. In her corner, all the bedding had been torn off her mattress and pillows tossed atop stacks of crates. The armoire doors were thrown open, her garments pulled out and tossed around.