“I admit,” he said as they passed, “I would be somewhat alarmed if you beat me with a salami.”
“You’re not that adventurous?”
“I’m afraid not.”
“The bartender in that tavern will be disappointed.”
“Uh, I believe my performance there the other night assures he no longer has an interest in me.” Unless it was to send an invoice for that broken chair and his lost business.
“Performance? Did you take your shirt off for him?”
“I only do that for pretty women.”
They reached the double doors of the library, and Jev opened one side for Zenia.
“Any pretty women?” she asked. “Or do you have to know them first?”
“I’d like to say only women I like, but I was naked—reluctantly naked—for that dreadful Iridium.” Jev was glad she hadn’t ended up having anything to do with the bacterial poisonings, if only so he hadn’t had to deal with her again. Alas, they would probably cross paths in the future. At least his job was to monitor the work of foreign spies rather than worrying about home matters. Zenia had that task. She could deal with her.
Jev smiled agreeably at the thought. Zenia might like finding an excuse to arrest Iridium.
“I hope that doesn’t become a trend for you,” Zenia said. “Getting naked in front of enemies.”
“It was difficult staying clothed in the elven tower, but I did manage.”
She grimaced. “Do you think we’ll get in trouble for all the damage to their compound?”
“I talked to Targyon about that, and the ambassador hasn’t brought it up. He may feel that since one of his so-called guests was responsible for the princes’ deaths, he can’t truly raise a fuss.”
“I did sense that he didn’t like what Yilnesh had done and even contemplated turning him over to the king at one point. When the ambassador was defending him, and buying time for him to escape, it was more that he felt honor-bound to protect his own kind than that he condoned the crime.”
Jev hadn’t sensed that. Maybe because he didn’t have a dragon tear. Or maybe because the ambassador had kept hurling magic at him.
“Where shall we set up?” Zenia asked.
“In there.”
Jev led her toward the room he’d reserved, one of several in the great library that could house meetings or game nights, or simply afforded people a secluded place to lounge on a sofa and read. This one had two sofas, a large table, a hearth with a fire crackling in it, along with two tall doors that one could close for complete privacy.
He smiled as they entered and did just that. He’d only spotted one other person as they walked through the main library, but he didn’t want any intruders peering through the doors at them.
“A private room with doors that close and a fireplace,” Zenia said. “This is precisely what Rhi recommended.” She smiled, but it seemed a little uncertain.
Jev hoped she didn’t think he was assuming… things. As much as he would be delighted to do things with her, he would understand if she wasn’t ready. After so long without intimate female companionship, he would be disappointed, but he would understand. After her earlier hesitancy, he was pleased she had agreed to the date. He’d worried she might decide that intimacy wouldn’t be a good idea since they worked together. Or just because his charms weren’t as wonderful as he thought they were.
“You told her about our date?” Jev set the basket down on the table.
“I don’t remember telling her, but somehow she knew.” Zenia looked curiously at him.
“I didn’t tell her. I’m a private and circumspect man.”
“Hm.”
“Maybe, now that she’s in and out of the agents’ office, she caught you gazing longingly at me across your desk, and she just assumed.”
“Yes, I’m certain that’s it.”
“Your voice was depressingly deadpan when you said that.” Jev wondered if she’d ever gazed longingly at him, maybe when he hadn’t been paying attention.
“Was it? Odd.” Zenia touched the basket. “Should we set up on the floor in front of the hearth? It seems strange to eat a picnic at a table. On her days off, my mother used to make stuffed gort leaves and thumbprint swirl cookies, and we would take them to the park on Sunset Street to eat.”
“Sounds lovely.” Jev did not mention that the only time he had been to that park, it had been full of homeless people. He suspected most parks in the city were like that, and it might be considered snooty and zyndar-ish to point it out.
“We would eat, and then I would ride the dragons.” Zenia found a folded blanket on one of the couches and spread it in front of the hearth.
“Not real ones, I assume.” Jev left the picnic setup to her and added a few logs from the wood box to the fire.
“The park has a carousel with wooden ones. I believe the real ones are known more for eating people than letting them ride them.”
“Yes, except for Vraggorth the Valiant and his scaled mount Myscopia.”
“I don’t think it counts if you sneak into a dragon’s cave, steal an egg from its mother, and raise the dragon yourself. And as I recall, that still didn’t turn out well in the end.”
“It depends on how partial you were to the monarch of the time period,” Jev said. “If the stories are to be believed, there was cheering in the streets when the dragon ate King Draxmoroth. A shame Vraggorth was punished for the deed, but at least his dragon fled into the wilds instead of allowing itself to be shot. Wild creatures are wild, after all.”
“Yes.” Zenia reached up to her chest and touched the little bump under her dress, then knelt on the blanket and dug into the basket.
“Are you having any trouble with the dragon tear?” Though Jev had only seen it help Zenia so far, he still worried about the tale Cutter had told and the possibility that it somehow had the personality of a real dragon.
“No, but it’s definitely… different from my last one.”
“That sentence would have made me feel more comfortable if the period had come after the no.”
“Sorry. You can pretend it did if you wish.”
“Too late. You can’t just shift punctuation around left and right after the fact.”
Zenia patted the blanket and offered him a plate. She’d laid out the salami and cheese on a cutting board and stuck spoons into the bowls of different types of salads. She pulled out a couple of wineglasses, followed by an elven red Jev had pilfered from the family cellar. He’d been pleased to find it, as he’d worried his father might have gone on a rampage and destroyed all the bottles from elven vineyards. Fortunately, the old man didn’t drink wine, so he hadn’t likely been in the cellar for years.
“Is it difficult to find elven wine these days?” Zenia asked.
“I imagine so,” Jev said. “I heard from my business-savvy cousins that exports from Taziira are all but nonexistent right now. Maybe Targyon will lower the tariffs to encourage trade again.”
“I’m surprised elves grow grapes and make wine. I wouldn’t have guessed their chilly climate and thick forests would provide the natural habitat for them.”
“I’ve seen their vineyards in Taziira. The elves train the grapes to grow in sunny spots in the forest, vining up trellises made from living trees. You can be standing in the middle of a vineyard before realizing what it is. I do think grapes prefer our climate, but I’ve heard the elves use a little magic to encourage growth.”
For a few moments, they were silent as they piled sliced meat and cheese and scoops of vegetables onto their plates and sampled the fare. Zenia settled her back against the sofa, and Jev did the same after opening and pouring the wine. Jev was glad she had pulled out two glasses. He remembered her once saying inquisitors didn’t imbibe alcohol, so he hadn’t been certain she would share a bottle with him.
“So fancy,” Zenia murmured, lifting her glass to consider the wine by the firelight, or maybe the glass itself. The crystal had a pattern of gold flakes around the
middle. “I suppose I should enjoy it instead of thinking about how one of these glasses could be sold for enough money to…” She shook her head and trailed off.
Since she’d mentioned her mother earlier, Jev wondered if her thoughts were on the woman tonight, on the death that could have been averted if they’d had enough money to pay for the hospital bill. He still hoped they would be strolling through the city together one day and come across her degenerate zyndar father so Jev would have the chance to punch the man in the nose.
“Maybe in your next report to the king, you can suggest Targyon sell the castle’s wineglasses and donate the money to the Orders.”
Zenia sighed. “It would be better to stand in the park and hand out coins to those who need them. I know Archmage Sazshen doesn’t embezzle from the donation trays, but I’ve heard that other archmages lead suspiciously opulent lifestyles.” Her lips pressed together in disapproval.
She hadn’t tasted the wine yet. Maybe Jev should have filled the picnic basket with food purchased from street vendors and wrapped in greasy paper. He hadn’t intended to remind her of the differences between them, that he’d grown up unaware of poverty and the value of things around the castle that he took for granted.
There were stories out there and even novels written of common women falling in love with zyndar men, and of the women being captivated by the zyndar lifestyle as if it was as much of a prize as the men that came with it. Or more of a prize. Somehow, Jev didn’t think Zenia had read many of those stories.
He searched for another subject to discuss while they ate.
She finally took a sip of the wine, then asked, “Have you ever had a picnic with a common woman before?”
He stifled a grimace. That sounded like more of the same subject, the one he wanted to avoid.
“I’ve had picnics with scant few women of any class,” Jev said truthfully. “A lot of meals shared outdoors with common men. In between elves shooting at us from the trees.”
“Sorry.” She lowered her glass. “I’m dwelling on unimportant things. I just… I guess I’ve had something on my mind, and I’m looking for a way to tell you, but all I keep thinking about is all the reasons you—we—can’t… can’t.”
“Can’t what? Join together in passionate union? Because I assure you none of those arrows delved into that territory, and I’m fully functional.” He smiled to hide the panic her words inspired. They’d sounded far too much like the words of a woman about to suggest they go separate ways. Or at least unromantic ways. Since they both lived and worked in the castle now, they couldn’t be too separate.
“I’m sure your future wife will be glad to know that.” She glanced toward his fully functional parts, then hurried to look away, studying the fire with far more scrutiny than it deserved.
“No chance of you being glad to know it?” he asked quietly.
Her gaze dropped to her glass, and his stomach sank before she even spoke. What was it? She liked him but couldn’t see loving him? Because he was zyndar? Because they worked together? Because his beard was too short? No, she wasn’t a dwarf. That wouldn’t be it.
She shifted her gaze to him, and he wrestled a smile into place. By the founders, why did she look like she wanted to be somewhere else? To avoid speaking with him? He’d wanted this evening to be light and fun. They deserved light and fun after the last couple of weeks.
“I can’t have sex with you, Jev,” she finally said, the words falling out in a tumble.
He opened his mouth to respond, but he had no idea what to say. That wasn’t even remotely what he’d thought she would say.
“I told you about my mother and how I came to be.” Her gaze slipped to her glass again.
The determined woman who could face down criminals, zyndar, and elven ambassadors was avoiding his gaze. Why did he once again feel like he’d done something wrong?
“Yes,” he said carefully when she paused.
“At the temple, I saw a lot of that. Not necessarily mothers dying of illnesses, but mothers bringing their babies or children in for us to care for because they couldn’t figure out a way to keep them fed and clothed by themselves.”
He didn’t know where this was going and felt confused, but he shifted to face her, resting his elbow on the sofa, so she would know he was paying attention.
“They were all children whose mothers were not married. I’m sure they hadn’t all been mistresses, but for whatever reason, the fathers hadn’t chosen to care. Or they hadn’t even told the fathers because… the relationships they’d had hadn’t meant anything, I guess.” She rubbed the gold flakes on the side of the wineglass with her thumb. “A long time ago, I vowed that I wouldn’t have sex with anyone outside of marriage. I didn’t—don’t—want to risk having children outside of marriage. I know there are various teas that are supposed to prevent conception, but I also know they don’t work all the time. As so many of the mothers leaving their children at the temple pointed out.”
She looked at him. To see if he was tracking? By now, he was, and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed. It made sense, and he couldn’t begrudge her choice, but he couldn’t deny that he’d hoped their date would end up with them back in his room, limbs entangled as they explored all the creative things one could do on the small guest bed.
“I can understand not wanting to raise a child by yourself,” he made himself say.
The last thing he wanted her to know was that he was disappointed. And now, he felt like an ass for that comment he’d made in the carriage about fantasizing about her. Did this mean she was a virgin? Unless she had past marriages she hadn’t spoken of, it had to, didn’t it? He rubbed his face, hoping he hadn’t scared her with that comment. Damn. He had not envisioned fearless and determined Zenia as someone inexperienced with men. Or with anything.
Her kisses hadn’t been chaste or uncertain. Of course, just because she hadn’t had sex didn’t mean she’d never kissed anyone before. She’d dated, surely, and maybe she’d explored the various things a man and woman could do that would be satisfying without any chance of pregnancies coming about. Maybe she would consider exploring such things with him.
No, damn it, he growled to himself. He needed to ratchet down his libido and listen to her. Listen to her concerns and figure out how to say something supportive and un-asshole-y. He could do that. He wasn’t an ass. He wasn’t that damn Zyndar Morningfar who had treated her mother so poorly. And her.
“For most common women, it’s not even possible,” Zenia said quietly. “Women aren’t paid that well, in general. As an inquisitor, I had a better job and career than most, but my guest room here at the castle is larger than my room in the temple was, if that tells you anything. And there’s no way I could have chased criminals all over the city, and sometimes out of it, while still nursing a baby.”
“That might slow you down a little,” he agreed, offering what he hoped was an understanding smile.
“I know—or I’ve gotten the notion, now that I’ve talked to you about it—that you are expected to marry a zyndari woman. And from the haunted look you get in your eyes when this comes up, I don’t think you want to marry anyone right now.”
“It’s true that I was hoping to relax and settle into my new life before contemplating marriage and children.” He remembered Dr. Nhole’s mother, and hoped the zyndari mothers out there didn’t start sending propositions to his father, something Jev still needed to discuss with the old man.
Zenia nodded as if she’d already known that. He supposed she had. He almost said that he would consider marrying a common-born woman, if he found the right person—was it possible she wanted to become the right person? He’d already hinted of that to her, hadn’t he? But he didn’t want to promise her something he wasn’t ready to promise. Especially since it could mean giving up so much if his father didn’t approve. And he had to admit that even if his father could be brought around to the idea of Jev marrying a common woman, the old man loathed Zenia right now. Rhi might hav
e been the one to kick him into the fountain, but he knew Rhi had been working for Zenia.
“I’m sorry this has put a damper on our date,” Zenia said, “but I needed to tell you because… I like it too much when you kiss me.”
He almost laughed, his ego appreciating the admission, but then he realized what she was doing in telling him everything. He was sworn to obey the Zyndar Code of Honor, and that meant not only defending his own honor from all threats; it meant defending the honor of women too. And if he tried to seduce her, inadvertently or not, it would be an attempt to make her break the promise she’d made to herself.
“Well.” He cleared his throat, surprised at the emotion filling it. “At least I know you don’t find my kisses loathsome and have been searching for a way to toss me overboard.”
“No.” She smiled sadly, her gaze settling on his lips. “They’re not loathsome. You’re not loathsome. It would have been easier if you were.”
The words stabbed him in the heart, but he managed to stifle his instinct to wince. “I can’t claim to be apologetic about not living up to your expectations of zyndar.”
Still smiling, she touched his cheek.
“Listen, Zenia.” He lifted his hand to hers, holding it there. “It’s true that marriage hasn’t been on my mind since—well, I told you. I planned on it once before, and it didn’t work out. She didn’t wait—didn’t even wait a full year—before going into the arms of another man, and it crushed me.” He swallowed, almost admitting that he’d gone to see Naysha, to spy on her, just in case it turned out she needed saving from a dreadful husband and a dreadful life, but he didn’t want to make that admission. It might hurt Zenia. As strange as that seemed since she was in the middle of rejecting him. “I just hadn’t planned to get that involved again so soon. To put my heart out there and risk getting it trampled.” That was more honesty than he’d meant to share. “But can’t we still date? Have picnics in the library? Spend time together? And see if… I don’t know. It seems a shame to say no forever before we’ve even had our first glasses of wine, doesn’t it?”
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