Chapter 25
Escorted by elven warriors, and with Captain Tassani at her side, Queen Fareesa climbed to the rooftop terrace.
She wore an elegant blue dress with a green belt reminiscent of a vine—maybe it was a vine—and a coordinating veil and slippers.
With easy grace, she glided across the mossy slate tiles to the large table in the corner of the pergola that had been left clear, nearby tables pushed away so nobody could encroach.
Nobody except her plethora of pointy-eared bodyguards.
On the way to the table, Fareesa paused to consider the gnomes and their hound seated in a corner overlooking the street.
Fortunately, Willow was lying down and enjoying a bone that someone had given her, not maligning the moss or doing anything else unacceptable.
She flapped her tail on the tiles a few times at the queen’s look but was mainly focused on the bone.
Not showing any sign of being offended by a canine presence in the dining area, Fareesa sat at her table. None of the elves accompanying her presumed to perch on the other chairs surrounding it.
Rylana was surprised that Layothlee and a bunch of ladies in waiting—or the elven equivalent—hadn’t come along.
When Fareesa gazed toward the rooftop of the coffee shop, Rylana suspected someone had told her Sylin hung out up there from time to time.
Maybe Fareesa hadn’t invited elven dinner companions along because she hoped for a private meeting with her daughter.
The queen lifted her veil, tucked it back into a leaf-inspired tiara, and looked at Rylana. Was there a question in her deep green eyes?
“Do you think the elf queen wants coffee?” Tezilly whispered, holding a trio of the special offerings in small cups on a tray.
Brella was taking similar trays to the gnomes as well as a pair of dwarves who’d snagged a table near them.
All the seating areas close to the queen were claimed by her own people, creating a barrier between her and the riffraff.
Or, more likely, the unknown and untested, as Captain Tassani would consider everyone except perhaps the peacekeepers.
His face was tense, his shoulders tenser.
Had he heard any more whispered comments to reinforce his feeling of unease?
“I’ll check.” Rylana held out her hands for the tray, then walked the samples over to the table. “Good evening, Your Highness. I’m sure Chef Jildarin told you, but he’s honored that you came and is preparing the promised enchanted morels.”
“He mentioned that, yes.” Fareesa smiled.
“Those mushrooms have been quite the talk of the elven enclave. Don’t let the stern faces of my escort alarm you.
Many have been by and tried Lord Jildarin’s other dishes previously and expressed enthusiasm about them.
I told my captain that I wouldn’t mind if some of his warriors partook of the fare in the dining room below. ”
At a finger twitch from Tassani, one of the elves stepped forward to sip from the three coffee cups that Rylana had set down.
Once he’d finished, he rotated them so the sides his lips had besmirched wouldn’t be toward the queen.
The act had the air of a ritual. Maybe that guy had come along on the ship and was the official taster as well as a bodyguard.
“Is an interest in the mushrooms why so many elves came to escort you, Your Highness?” Rylana asked once he’d stepped back.
“I’m sure the captain wanted you to be protected from danger when in the city, but nobody is armed in Tranquility, aside from the peacekeepers, and I’m concerned that…
” Rylana, aware of the nearby guards listening—even if none were so brazen as to look at the queen’s table during this conversation—lowered her voice.
“Sylin was thinking of coming, but I suspect she’ll see all this and believe it’s a trap.
She doesn’t trust the local elves from the enclave.
” Technically, Sylin didn’t trust any elves, but Rylana decided not to insult the queen by saying that.
“I understand they’ve been looking for her.”
“With weapons, yes.”
“Jildarin did explain that, while he believed she would come tonight, it was not a guarantee. He said the best a dragon could do was throw out a lure and hope to bring in game.”
“He did arrange the right lure. Trust me.” Rylana gestured to more coffee samples being poured at the bar.
Tezilly offered some of the standing elves cups. Most declined, but a couple, after glances at their captain, accepted the samples.
Rylana thought about waving for Tezilly to take her beverages to the non-elves present. The last thing they needed was for Tassani’s troops to be more caffeinated and alert. She’d been hoping to overdose them with morels to achieve the opposite effect.
Before she could catch Tezilly’s gaze, several of the elves looked toward the back of the building. They tensed and reached for their weapons, even though ribbons tied them. The coffee drinkers hastily set their cups aside.
Rylana followed their attention and gaped as the cloaked but not hooded Sylin climbed into view at the edge of the roof over the storeroom, using one of the new vines as a rope.
“The queen’s guest is here,” Rylana announced loudly and strode toward Sylin before any of the elves could think to untie their weapons—or spring to attack Sylin with their bare hands.
“Yes, the queen’s guest,” Captain Tassani echoed and looked around at his troops, his eyes narrowed.
One of the elves had already untied a sword, loosening it in his scabbard. Rylana knew from experience that it wasn’t easy to get those knots undone within Tranquility’s borders, so magic must have been involved. Fortunately, when Tassani’s gaze fell upon him, the elf released the hilt.
Feeling like she was running across a battlefield where cannons might be fired at any second, Rylana hurried to join Sylin as she straightened, no sign of weapons on her—though that cloak could have hidden a few.
Sylin spread her arms, glancing at Rylana but focusing quickly on the queen, who’d turned and risen from her chair but hadn’t moved away from the table.
A breeze whispered across the rooftop, stirring the leaves in the trees forming the pergola and riffling the ends of Fareesa’s lush hair and rustling the hem of her dress.
She met Sylin’s gaze across the twenty-foot distance.
Every elf, dwarf, human, gnome, and even the dog on the rooftop was looking at Sylin. No, not everyone. Tassani was watching his people. Good.
Sylin twitched an eyebrow and then her nose as she looked toward her coffee distributors. She lifted a single finger toward Tezilly. To order a flight of the samples?
“You know you’re suicidal to have come here, right?” Rylana murmured.
“Oh? I thought this might be the least suicidal time to approach the queen.”
“How so?”
“There’s a protective dragon below, that elven captain has been flirting with you, and there are peacekeepers seated at the corner table.”
“The captain is nervous about his own people, the gnomes just came for a free meal, and... don’t let this hurt your feelings, but Jildarin doesn’t feel that strongly about you.”
“No, but he bought you an entire hand-carved bedroom set made by a dwarven master, and I’m standing right next to you. I can’t think of anywhere safer.”
“I can.” Rylana noticed the elf who’d untied his weapon nodding surreptitiously at a couple of others.
Sylin was definitely not safe. Rylana didn’t know if she was either. As far as she knew, Jildarin was laboring in the kitchen, oblivious to Sylin’s arrival.
“Do you recognize her?” Rylana asked quietly.
Sylin and the queen continued looking thoughtfully at each other across the rooftop.
“I… don’t know,” Sylin said.
The fact that she paused and didn’t issue a firm no made Rylana think Fareesa might at least seem familiar to her.
“Sylinesla?” the queen asked in a similar uncertain tone, then looked Sylin up and down, taking in the cloak, the dark trousers and tunic, and worn combat boots.
The mannish clothing didn’t detract from Sylin’s beauty—or her resemblance to Fareesa. Rylana saw it. But did her friend?
At the queen’s voice, Sylin’s lips had parted, but she didn’t answer. She almost looked… stunned? Maybe hearing her name in Fareesa’s voice had some familiarity.
When Sylin didn’t answer—didn’t stir at all—Rylana elbowed her in the ribs. “Good news. She doesn’t remember you, either.”
Sylin snorted.
“Come, Sylinesla,” Fareesa said, seeming more certain after her perusal that she had the right person. “Sit with me.”
Sylin, who’d never cared for taking orders, despite her many years serving in a mercenary unit, set her jaw and didn’t move. Rylana looked toward the bar where Brella and Tezilly had paused their coffee ministrations to watch. Everyone on the rooftop was watching the exchange.
Rylana held up a finger to catch Tezilly’s gaze, then pointed at a tray of samples ready to go out. She waved for her to deliver it to the queen’s table. To a lovely spot for Sylin to sit.
Tezilly hadn’t been filled in on any of this, but she nodded, as if she were following right along. Maybe she could also see the resemblance and guess Sylin and the queen were relatives. Close relatives.
With a nod and a bright smile, Tezilly swept the tray off the bar and placed three small cups on the table in front of the seat next to Fareesa.
The queen’s eyebrows twitched—by the gods, that gesture was so similar to one Sylin made that it alone could have removed all doubt for Rylana.
Fareesa didn’t, however, object to the placing of the cups.
Brella came behind her partner with a basket and tongs and set down a plate with sprinkle-covered cookies. She also added two frosted currant buns—ah, was that who Mya’s special order had been for?—including tiny ramekins of whipped butter.
“If you want your poop coffee,” Rylana murmured, “you’re going to have to walk obediently over there and sit next to your mommy.”