They’d reached the arch—and the armed guards—so Rylana didn’t continue the conversation. The two males nodded at Jildarin, as if he was always welcome in, at the same time as they held their palms up toward Rylana.
“This is the one who knows the assassin and possibly her whereabouts,” their escort explained.
“She will finally be questioned?” one guard asked.
“Oh, yes.”
“Very well.”
The guards stepped aside so the group could enter. Rylana grimaced, not liking thatallthe elves here seemed to know about her and Sylin. What had either of them done since they’d arrived in Tranquility to warrant such scrutiny?
Once they passed through the arch, the noises of the gonging pillars stopped.Allthe city noises stopped as a whisper of magic ran over Rylana’s skin. In the enclave, birdsong filled the background, as well as musical laughter from a group of male and female elves in a nearby meadow. They were practicing throwing each other into the air, doing somersaults and rolls, and landing with twirling flourishes.
Elsewhere, something like a harp played, notes floating across the meandering paths and through copses of trees, some ancient and broad enough to have homes built into and around their trunks. In the rest of Tranquility, most of the trees had been logged, except for in parks and select greenbelts, but, here, many towered hundreds of feet high. Layers of platforms and decks had been built around some, supporting more buildings—dwellings or communal areas.
“You have never visited this place?” Jildarin asked, watching her face.
“I’ve never been invited, no. I don’t think there were guards at the arch in my youth, but the elves always discouraged people from wandering in.” Rylana supposeddragonsweren’t discouraged, but there hadn’t been any of them around in her younger years, so she didn’t know.
“One of our elders approaches,” the elf closest to her said, pointing at a stately female in a lacy white gown that flowed to her sandaled feet. Silver-haired, with streaks of pale blue in her jaw-length locks, she walked with a gnarled staff, a diamond tip glowing a faint green.
“I don’t suppose she’s a senior librarian?” Rylana couldn’tguess the female elf’s age but didn’t think she was old enough to have lived since the establishment of the city and the enclave.
“Lady Hythiaisa scholar and is familiar with our repositories of knowledge.”
The escort elves bowed as the elder approached. Hythia’s gaze skimmed over Rylana before settling on Jildarin.
“It is good to meet you in person, Lord Jildarin-grozanarav,” she said, “and may I congratulate you on your victory in the Golden Whisk? We’d hoped our own chef, Mistress Evelisa, would garner the most votes, but it is no disgrace to lose to a dragon. I’m most fascinated by your choice to retire from your military career to take up cooking.”
“It is a more recent interest of mine. This is my new bookkeeper and partner in the diner, Rylana.”
Hythia’s gaze returned to Rylana, and she mouthed a surprised, “Oh,” after he saidpartner.
“Rylana Avandar,” she said, though she doubted the elves would be impressed by her family name. Their kind didn’t ship a lot of cargo around the world, at least not by lines controlled by humans. “We’re hoping to dig here for historical knowledge to learn what might appease the troll gods so that they’ll lift whatever curse they’ve placed on the city.”
“That… is your duty as a bookkeeper?”
“It’s affecting business at the diner. People don’t go out to eat when they’re worried about curses.”
Skepticism laced the gaze Hythia continued to level at Rylana. “Lord Jildarin-grozanarav, may I speak with you privately?”
“Yes.” Jildarin walked off with her, leaving Rylana on the path with the two elves.
The way they eyed her made her think they were debating if they could steal her away for a quick interrogation. The guards at the arch were also looking at her instead of out toward the park and the city. Rylana was glad Hythia didn’t take Jildarin out ofview, simply stopping beyond earshot. The elder kept looking suspiciously back as they spoke, and her gestures suggested Rylana was the topic of the conversation. She probably wouldn’t offer to take them to their library anytime soon.
Rylana sighed, wondering how much of their disdain was because she’d fought their kind during the war and how much because she’d shown up in the city with Sylin. Before arriving in Tranquility, Rylana hadn’t realized how much Sylin’s people had taken note of her and considered her an enemy.
“Hello?” a female elf asked from the side of the path.
She’d approached from the direction of the acrobats or whatever they were. With forest-green hair similar in hue to Sylin’s, she had striking sapphire eyes in a beautiful face, and her enigmatic smile was warm rather than suspicious. Dressed in fitted garments suitable for somersaults and leaping about, she had an athletic build that remained feminine enough to attract male gazes.
Not sure if the elf addressed her or her escort, Rylana touched her chest and lifted her eyebrows.
“Yes, hello.” The female elf smiled. “I’m Layothlee of the Windsong Traveling Troupe.” She gestured to the still-practicing elves, some of whom were leaping and gliding between tree branches now, magic keeping gravity from affecting them to the extent it would most people.
“You look a bit like a friend of mine,” Rylana said before catching herself. Bringing up that she knew Sylin couldn’t be a good idea. Of course, every elf in the city already seemed aware of that, so maybe it didn’t matter. But Layothlee’s friendly mien—and why was that name familiar?—had her less on-guard.
“Oh?”
