with them—with her? She couldn't imagine what Leesil might think of such a notion. A month ago, he would have laughed and offered her his wine sack. Now their world had altered, and either he was changing with it, or he simply had been hiding aspects of himself. She kept allowing him to handle more and more situations that were basically her responsibility. This morning, he had handled Ellinwood for the most part, and this afternoon he took care of a temporary "Closed" sign for the tavern door. Now she'd gone out by herself, leaving him behind to comfort Rose and Caleb.
No, she wouldn't burden him with her own deepening guilt, confusion, and suspicions. He certainly didn't need more to worry about.
But the time had come to take some matters into her own hands. She'd traveled to this town seeking peace, and someone had forced a battle upon her. Brenden was right, and the cards were on her side of the table now.
She walked away from the docks and farther into town. Not many people knew her by sight this far in, and she received no familiar greetings from passersby. She stopped in front of The Velvet Rose. It was quite lovely, reflecting its name even from the outside with red damask curtains peeking through the perfectly tended and whitewashed shutters.
Although her hair was back in its neat braid, she felt underdressed in breeches and boots, muslin shirt and black vest.
A large, mahogany desk waited just inside the entryway. The man behind it struck her as attractive in a strange way, even in her current state of mind. She had seen a few full-blooded elves during her travels, though they were not common in this land. His light brown hair looked as soft as down feathers and hung loose, pushed behind his oblong, pointed ears. But his face was more slender with a narrower chin than her partner's, and his amber-brown eyes and thin eyebrows slanted upward at a more pronounced angle than Leesil's.
When he looked up at her, she could see his skin was a dark, even tan and smoother than any human's she'd ever seen.
"May I help you?" he asked smoothly.
"Yes," she answered, suddenly unsure of how to proceed, or if she would even be allowed into the place. "I was hoping to find a friend of mine here, a Welstiel Massing. He's about my height, well dressed, and gray at the temples."
Without thinking, she motioned to her own temples as if to help the description, then felt foolish for doing so. She hated feeling so nervous and desperate.
"Yes, Master Welstiel currently resides here," he responded, his tone composed, his speech clear and distinct. "But he seldom receives guests and never without notifying me first. I am sorry." He turned back to the parchment on his desk, as if his words were all the dismissal she needed.
"No, I'm the one who's sorry. I may not have an appointment, but he's come to see me several times, and now I am returning his visits."
The slanted brown eyes flashed back up in surprise.
"Young mistress…" he began sternly, and then he paused a moment as if half-remembering some forgotten detail. "Are you Magiere, the new proprietor of Dunction's?"
"Yes," she answered cautiously. "It's called The Sea Lion now."
"Apologies, please." He stood up quickly. "My name is Loni. Master Welstiel did mention your name. I don't know if he's here now, but I will check. Please follow me."
This elegant elf—who basically functioned as a guard— did not even know if Welstiel was home or not? That seemed odd to Magiere, but she put it aside for the moment.
As they stepped farther into the inn, the place was even more opulent than she expected, with walls painted oyster-shell white. Red carpets, thick enough to sleep on, covered the main floors and hallways, climbing up the staircase at the entryway's far end. Large, dark-toned paintings of battles, seascapes, and tranquil landscapes hung in strategically tasteful places, and the perfect deepest shades of saltwater roses had been chosen for simple and exquisite ivory vases.
"Not bad," she remarked to Loni. "You could use a faro table."
"Well…" he said. "Yes, certainly."
Magiere almost smiled, knowing his stuffy front was carefully constructed. He was likely as good as Leesil at hand-to-hand encounters, or he wouldn't be working the front of this establishment all by himself. She followed him to the stairs, but rather than going up, he took a key out of his vest pocket and unlocked a door to