Page 87 of Morel Dilemma

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.