Could he wiggle out of breakfast and take his chance with the street vendors? No? Damn. Aslan smiled with his mouth and went where he was directed.

“I apologize, I meant after breakfast,” he lied.

And yet another tally against this mortal coil-er, his flustered propriety.

Aslan picked up the spoon for his porridge. He was 99% certain this was the bowl that would be the death of him. So, he swallowed it quickly.

“I am sorry, Nisa,” he said, yet again.

That one held a grain of truth. He wanted to be around her. Or, well, he wanted to want to be around her.

“I do not mean to neglect you. You are absolutely right – you should not be spending so many lonesome hours here. I saw a sign for an embroidery group outside the women’s teahouse. Would that be of interest to you?”