Chapter 25 #2
Sylin slanted her a dark side eye. “You’re a dreadful comrade.”
“No, I’m magnificent.”
“You have the maturity of a raccoon.”
“Yes, I do. Shall I come along and place my protected-by-a-dragon nearness next to you at the table?” Rylana waved toward all the elven warriors looking on.
“No.” Sylin blew out a slow breath. A nervous breath? “This should be a private conversation.”
“Something that will be easily achievable with fifty keen-eared elves ten feet away.”
“There are only eighteen elves up here.”
Two hells, it seemed like a lot more. Probably because of all the tension those elves were emanating.
“The rest are in the dining room below and can communicate telepathically with the others,” Rylana said before falling silent. Sylin was walking toward the table.
Fareesa still stood by her chair. Despite Sylin’s slow response to her command, the queen hadn’t moved or presumed to repeat it.
When Sylin reached her, they both sat down. Rylana wasn’t surprised when Sylin promptly reached for one of the sample cups. Her fingers twitched toward the black ivory coffee, but she must have decided to save that for last because she selected one of the others.
“I only occasionally drink coffee,” Fareesa said, reaching not for a cup but for one of the currant buns. “But I adore pastries.”
The taste-tester elf gasped and hurried forward, as if he would gnaw off a corner or at least lick it before letting Fareesa touch her lips to it. She flicked her fingers to keep him back.
“Sweets don’t align well with my diet and fitness regimen,” Sylin said stiffly. She’d perched on the chair adjacent to the queen’s, but her back was straighter than a fireplace poker.
Rylana almost snorted, not objecting to the idea of Sylin having a fitness regimen but knowing full well that she availed herself liberally of Mya’s offerings, even the sweet ones. Especially the sweet ones.
“Nor with mine, but here we are.” Fareesa smiled, waved the bun in the air, and took a nibble.
The taste-tester watched in morose defeat.
As Sylin took her first sip of coffee, watching the surrounding elves as much as Fareesa, the queen tore off a chunk of the bun and dipped it into the black ivory coffee.
Brella gasped and clutched her hand to her chest. Maybe specialty coffee wasn’t supposed to be diluted by currant buns—or have little crumbs floating around in it.
“I told you we should have ordered some biscotti,” Tezilly whispered to her.
Sylin eyed the dipping, as if condescending words had sprung to her mind, but she nobly refrained from questioning the queen’s taste aloud. Had Rylana defiled a rich and perfect brew with a pastry, she would have heard all about it.
“Attention, attention,” Gniknik called from the landing at the top of the stairs. “The master chef, Lord Jildarin-grozanarav of Clan Killcrusher, has finished preparing scintillating and sumptuous vegetarian and omnivore offerings featuring the legendary enchanted morels.”
Rylana scratched her jaw, wondering at the grandioseness. Jildarin had greeted the queen personally a few minutes earlier, so it wasn’t as if they needed an introduction.
The elven warriors barely glanced at Gniknik, instead keeping their focus on the queen and her guest. Several diners unrelated to the elves made polite claps, grunts, or fist-on-table thumps, whatever was appropriate to the cultures of their species.
Willow lifted her head and flapped her tail, presumably enthused about the omnivore offering more than the vegetarian meal.
Gniknik waved to someone not yet in view on the stairs. “We will now begin the dinner service for those on the terrace.”
Rolf, Zalani, and Jildarin himself came into view, all carrying trays, all appearing proud of the offerings. When Jildarin looked at Rylana, she braced herself, knowing she’d irritated him earlier with her suggestion and not certain if he’d forgiven her.
He widened his eyes with some significance. Did he want to speak with her?
Jildarin walked first to the queen, setting down plates for her and Sylin.
As they considered them, he went into a lengthy explanation on the meal, including how and when the precious morels had been found.
Rylana thought he might leave out that a dog had been integral in locating them, especially when he digressed to speak of the dragon battle that had left charred trees in its wake and created an appealing environment for mushrooms to sprout.
But he surprised her by finishing with pointing to the gnomes and the hound with a flourish.
“Through the use of that log-inspecting hound, we were able to locate the magical morels. That is, of course, the reason such a creature has been honored by being permitted to dine here. It is not our policy to serve canines.” Ah, he wasn’t so much giving the dog credit as explaining her presence.
Rylana didn’t point out that Fareesa had been indifferent to the hound.
“I look forward to trying your dish, Lord— Chef Jildarin,” the queen said.
“Excellent.” He inclined his head toward her.
Rolf, Zalani, and Gniknik carried dishes to the other diners.
“When will there be openings?” someone called up from the bottom of the stairs.
Someone else said, “I can’t wait to try that coffee.”
“Oh.” Tezilly must have caught the comment because she filled a tray with samples and descended the stairs. “Mind the till,” she called back to Brella.
As the taste-testing elf stepped forward to sample from the queen’s dish, Jildarin squinted, probably offended that anyone would suspect him of serving poison. Understandable. He hadn’t even been willing to serve an overabundance of enchanted morels.
After Zalani finished delivering plates, she paused near Rylana on her way back to the stairs.
“Do you know how long the queen will be here? People want to come up and try the coffee, but there are a couple of crabby elves down there forbidding anyone else from visiting the rooftop. There also aren’t any tables available in the dining room, because the other elves are taking up so many of them.
There’s a line of customers at the door, eager for everything on the flier and more. ”
“I don’t know how long, no, but Sylin isn’t one for lengthy conversations under any circumstances.”
Rylana had moved too far away from the queen’s table to hear their discussion, but Sylin hadn’t relaxed.
That might have been because she was sitting in a chair—something she almost never did—and found the experience uncomfortable, but Rylana suspected it was the situation at large that had her poised to flee at any moment.
Fareesa was doing most of the talking. With her hand gestures, she seemed to be telling a story.
The one she’d shared with Rylana already of how and why Sylin had been swept away and lost all those years ago?
Sylin appeared to be listening, and she sipped from her coffee samples, but her back remained rigid.
“I’ve told people there are plenty of mushrooms and coffee,” Zalani said, “but diners aren’t always patient.”
“If they have to wait too long,” Rolf said, joining them, “they may be too disgruntled to leave suitable goblin tips.”
“Yes, that was my primary concern.” Zalani managed a smile, but she looked tense too. All the armed elves around had everyone on edge.