They left the pools without another word.
For Vell, it was a silence of understanding, as he had a good idea of what had happened to the queen.
For Sonder, it was a silence filled with intense thoughts. She wasn't sure what to think. She just didn't understand.
As they made their way back through the winding paths to the garden, the distant sound of low conversation rose once more.
The guests had dispersed more widely now. Diplomats, warriors, and curious envoys gathered, though still mostly among their own kind.
The Velathi still lingered where they'd seen him last, deep in conversation with the sea folk.
Nearby, the Eosan king had claimed a shaded space beneath a towering hedge, his wings neatly tucked in.
He watched Vell and Sonder return with piercing eyes but said nothing.
"Elves," Vell muttered to Sonder, "they love to make people wait. The other elves don't seem to mind, but everyone else?"
"I wonder how long they've already been waiting," she replied.
"Want to ask them?"
So they mingled a little more, moving quietly among the gathered delegations.
Vell shared a few words with the dwarves, who seemed more captivated by the palace's stonework than its politics.
Sonder, meanwhile, exchanged a few tentative, fascinated glances—and barely any words—with a being who seemed to be made of wind itself, swirling with leaves, dust, and bits of stone.
But before they could approach a tall, antlered emissary from a tribe of mountain ogres, a soft voice interrupted them.
"Vellichor. Sonder." An elven attendant had appeared from seemingly nowhere, robed in pale green and silver.
They both turned.
"Your quarters have been prepared," the servant said, bowing slightly. "If you would follow me, I will guide you there."
Vell inclined his head. "Thank you. Lead on."
As they followed, Sonder leaned in slightly. "Did you ever live here?"
"No. But I visited more times than I can count," Vell said. "It wasn't always formal or stiff. The queen liked to have company often. And she knew how to make room for strangers. That's rarer for an elf. They hate change or surprises."
"Will there be a formal welcome later?" Vell asked the attendant.
Without turning, the elf replied, "When the stars begin to rise. Until then, you may rest or explore the outer gardens. But the inner halls remain closed—until the council convenes."
"And when will that be?" Vell asked.
"When the council is ready."
"Of course," he muttered.
The servant turned a corner and gestured to a pair of doors with complicated carvings and made of the finest dark wood.
"These are your chambers. If you require anything, speak into the air. The rooms are listening."
He bowed again and disappeared before they could respond.