Barlo groaned. “Has every elf heard about my miscommunication?”
The door to the chamber opened, cutting off Alfiabalas’s response. Three silver-haired elven women sat within on cushioned chairs. Barlo’s cheeks reddened as they all turned to smile at him.
“Why, it is our dear friend, Barlo!” Rilriel said.
“And where is our other dear friend, Iarion?” Nimrilriel asked with a mischievous sparkle in her green eyes.
“No offense, but I think he’s a little young for you right now, my ladies,” Barlo said. “He’s been reborn.”
“We had heard, but a girl can always wait, especially for an elf like Iarion.” Rilriel pretended to swoon.
“Yes, we still need to settle the matter of which one of us he would have chosen,” Rasniwyn chimed in. “But not now, I think.” The youngest sister pinned Barlo with
