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I twisted to scowl at him for lobbing his weirdly specific question into the fray. But the others were already speaking, so I quickly faced forward again.

“Why would she be in a bramble bush in the first place?” Dorn asked, plainly confused. As he should be, because it was a ridiculous question to ask.

“She probably fell,” I explained, blushing.

“Is she upset to be in the bush?” Dorn asked.

“If she is upset,” Xennet said, “then I would feed her! I would bring her a very nice snack in the bush!”

“Let’s all just assume she doesn’t want to be in the bush,” I groaned. “She’s stuck.”

“How could she be stuck?” That was Dorn again. The man had a hell of a lot of questions. I guessed I couldn’t blame him for wanting to get as much information as possible about the scenario so that he could have the best chance at coming up with a reasonable response. There was a lot hinging on this for him. For all of them.

“Because she has very long and beautiful hair,” Tenn explained, “and all the various strands have become tangled in the brambles and branches.”

“I could pull the bush out by the roots,” Xennet said thoughtfully.

“Your objective is to get the woman out of the bush,” Warden Hallum reminded him sternly, “not get the bush out of the ground.”

Dorn fingered the rough, uneven ends of his short reddish-brown ponytail. “I suppose I could cut her hair if necessary.”

“Or the branches,” Rivven added.

“Or, I could douse her head in oil!” said Xennet excitedly. “Then she would slide right out!”

“Practically speaking, I guess that would work,” I admitted. “But I’m not sure the woman in the scenario would appreciate that tactic.”

“Oh.” Xennet looked deflated. Which was extremely cute and actually quite encouraging. He was disappointed that this imaginary woman in a bush would be unhappy with his actions. Which meant he wanted, ultimately, to please her.

“Let’s move on from the bush question, shall we?” I said. “Hopefully, none of your potential wives would find themselves in such anoutlandishsituation.”

“It can happen,” Tenn grumbled from behind me.

“Yes, Tenn. That-”

“To even the most impressive and competent of women.”

I ignored the way my belly seemed to fall all the way down to the place between my legs at his words.

“Thank you, Tenn,” I said dismissively through a forced smile. “Gentlemen – let’s continue.”

The rest of the morning continued in much the same fashion. I asked the men questions, and they gave me their best – if often unorthodox – answers, all while Tenn did his utmost to derail things with his embarrassingly specific scenarios. Such as, “What would you do if your wife came here with no clothes?” and “How would you protect your wife if she was constantly putting herself at risk of breaking her own butt?”

You know, only the most pressing and significant questions. The sorts of subjects that would likely define human-Zabrian diplomatic relations for centuries to come.

Not.

But even so, I considered the morning to mostly be a success. Dorn, Xennet, and Rivven were obviously completely inexperienced when it came to women, but they were earnest.They all worked hard, wracking their brains to come up with answers to my questions. No one had given me any real red flags yet. Except maybe Xennet. But his was more of a brown flag. Some muddy spot between red and green. He didn’t seem malicious. He just gave me slightly chaotic, loose cannon vibes. I’d have to learn more about him before I made any final decisions.

We stopped for a short lunch. It was prepared by Rivven, who seemed relieved to get a break from the interrogation and spend some quiet time alone in the saloon’s kitchen.

And after that, we were right back to it.

By the time Warden Hallum called a halt to the proceedings, Dorn, Xennet, and Rivven appeared to be absolutely exhausted. Their tuxedos were rumpled. Their faces were drawn.

Frankly, they looked like they’d just come back from a war.

“Dorn and Zennet will have to leave soon,” Warden Hallum informed me, “if they are to return to their herds before dark.”