Zenia closed her eyes, cheeks flaming with indignation. And embarrassment. She tried to focus on the vaguely relevant information about Lunis and found it heartening that she hadn’t been anyone’s mistress.
“If Targyon wants ass, fine, give her a desk here, but don’t make her the captain. That’s my job. Yes, I made a mistake, but damn it, give me a chance to prove myself.”
“Is he giving you that chance?” Brokko asked. “I’d heard—uh, rumors of your retirement abound.”
“Targyon asked me to retire. I told him I wasn’t ready to sit at my brother’s castle and play chips and drink all day while his brats run around, reminding me they’re the heirs and not me.”
“So, you’re staying?”
“I’m staying. He said I have to be willing to work under Dharrow and the inquisitor.”
Zenia curled a lip. Why couldn’t these people call her by name?
“Which I will,” Garlok said. “For now. But I predict those two are gone before the year is out.”
“Gone? You think they’ll quit? Both of them?”
“Quit. Disappear. Whatever. It can be a dangerous job.”
A chill ran up Zenia’s spine, and it had nothing to do with the cold floor underneath her. Was the man just throwing out words, voicing his wishes, or did he have something in mind already? Might he have been behind the fire?
Zenia wrapped her fingers around the dragon tear again, reconsidering her decision not to pry. With the powerful gem’s help, she had convinced that elf woman to answer her questions, and she’d been able to see that she spoke the truth. Usually, her magic wouldn’t have worked on an elf or a dwarf. With such a powerful gem, maybe she could slip into Garlok’s thoughts without alerting him.
A chair scraped. Someone preparing to sit down?
Founders, how would she get out of here if they camped out until other people came in? Eventually, she would have to stand up and admit to eavesdropping. Or pretend she had been sleeping the whole time and come across as an imbecile. She wished they would go get coffee and oatmeal before starting work.
“You want some coffee, Zyndar?” Brokko asked.
“Yeah, I guess. Something to eat too.”
The chair scraped again, and the men left the office.
Zenia crooked her head to look down at her chest, at the faint blue glow coming from the dragon tear. She was positive it had prompted them to leave. Once again, a thought had been all it took to evoke its magic. This was nothing like with her previous gem. Before, she’d had to truly focus to channel its power.
She let go and stared up at the ceiling. She had a long day ahead, so she had better get to work, not lie on the floor and dwell on whether Garlok had odious plans for her.
More footsteps sounded in the hallway, and she groaned to herself. They couldn’t have gone for coffee and returned already. Had one forgotten something?
She lay still behind her desk, vowing to spring to her feet as soon as they left again. But the footsteps continued up the wide aisle between the agent desks and toward her position in the back of the office.
When she realized whoever was coming would soon see her boots sticking out, she debated feigning sleep or simply smiling and waving and pretending she wasn’t doing something odd.
A red-bearded face came into view, leaning over one end of the desk. Cutter. Jev leaned over the other end of the desk.
“I told you I sensed her new dragon tear back here,” Cutter observed.
“So you did.”
“You didn’t believe me.”
“I was merely skeptical as it seemed an early hour for work, especially for someone who was caught in a fire last night.” Jev smiled, but concern burned in his eyes as he looked her up and down, his gaze lingering on the soot spots on her blouse. “Zenia?”
“Yes, hello.” She sat up and pushed herself to her feet. “How did you know about the fire?”
“I came looking for you last night.” Jev stepped around the desk, bumping his hip on the corner, and enveloped her in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re all right,” he whispered, kissing the side of her neck and holding her tight.
The embrace and his obvious feelings surprised her since she hadn’t ever been in any true danger. But if he’d seen the burned farmhouse and hadn’t known she had been staying in the hayloft, she could understand why he had worried. And it touched her.
She slipped her arms around him to return the hug. “I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt. Rhi was the one who insisted on running in and out of the burning building.”
“Did someone tell her that pretty, shirtless men were playing ball in there?”
Zenia snorted, remembering Rhi’s supervision of a group of such men on the beach. “No, but she has visions of heroically carrying people out of danger, and she got her chance.”
Jev did not make any move to release her, so Zenia let herself notice the muscles of his back through his clothing. And the warm trickle of his breath against the side of her neck. The way his hand came up to the back of her head, fingers slipping through her hair as he held her gently.
Cutter cleared his throat. “We going to have our chat about the gem, or are you two both going to lie down behind the desk?”
Jev kissed her neck again, then pulled away, though he clasped her hands and didn’t release them. “I wanted to find you last night but didn’t know where you’d gone. Cutter and I came up here and got rooms. I had no idea until he woke me a few minutes ago, mentioning he sensed a powerful dragon tear, that you were here in the castle.”
“Got rooms? I didn’t realize it was like a hostel and you could simply tell the staff you wanted a room.” Zenia hadn’t even seen anyone awake when she’d come in, aside from the guards at the gate and the exterior doors, all of whom had recognized her and hadn’t seemed to think it odd that she’d come in to work in the middle of the night.
“I rousted one of the stewards from bed,” Jev said. “You know we arrogant zyndar are used to imposing on people.”
“You do impose, though not as arrogantly as I expected when I first met you.”
Cutter huffed and folded his arms over his chest.
Zenia realized she was gazing into Jev’s eyes, and she looked down. They had work to do and…
She turned curiously toward Cutter. “What chat?”
“I know a thing or two about critter carvings in dragon tears,” Cutter said. “Figured I should warn you.”
Jev nodded.
“Critter?” Zenia lifted her gem, the elegantly carved dragon prominent on the flat front.
“That’s a critter,” Cutter said. “A big, scaled critter.”
“Give her the short version for now, please,” Jev said. “It’s getting light out. We need to visit Nhole’s list of doctors and also get ready for Targyon’s shindig. Unless you’re planning to wear that.” He extended a hand toward Zenia’s rumpled, soot-stained dress.
“No.” She gaped down at herself in dawning horror. It hadn’t occurred to her to think of attire for the event. She was used to her inquisitor robe counting as formal wear and being acceptable for all events, public and private. All she had were shabby dresses from many seasons past. She opened her mouth to complain that she had nothing to wear, then snapped it shut, annoyed by how the words would sound. As if she were a teenage girl going to a ball at some zyndar castle and worrying obsessively about clothing possibilities.
“Do you have a dress for such an occasion?” Jev asked, as if he could read the emotions passing across her face. Maybe they were obvious and he could.
“No. Why don’t we have uniforms, Jev?” Every agent in the office dressed in whatever they wished, with clothing ranging from elegant and expensive suits hand-tailored for rich zyndar to extremely forgettable attire likely plucked out of bargain bins. “Like the watch. They have an everyday uniform, and then a formal one for when they go to see the king or some important person in the city.”
Zenia tugged at her hair—it was in need of a brush—and loo
ked bleakly at him. He, no doubt, had fancy zyndar clothes he could wear.
“I’m sure we can find someone in the castle with a dress you can borrow.” Jev patted her shoulder. “Though I’m positive you would be perfectly effective at questioning people if you were completely naked.”
“Is nudity allowed at royal parties?”
“I haven’t seen it before, but considering how stuffy these gatherings tend to be, it could only improve the event.”
“Somehow, I’m skeptical that King Targyon would share your opinion.”
“He’s twenty-two and male. I promise you he wouldn’t object to female nudity.”
“Nonetheless, I shall see if there’s someone here who can lend me a dress.”
“Wise,” Cutter murmured.
Zenia faced him. “You have something you want to tell me about?”
“To warn you about.”
Zenia’s feeling of bleakness returned. “Go ahead.”
As Jev and Zenia rode through the city, heading back to the castle after questioning the doctors capable of, according to Zyndari Ghara Nhole, creating a protective magical casing around bacteria, he tried not to feel like they had wasted most of the day. None of the men and women had known anything about the princes’ deaths, as Zenia had confirmed with the help of her dragon tear, but three out of the four had eagerly filled their ears with far more information than they ever wanted to know about bacteria, Mountain Illness, and manipulating microscopic lifeforms with magic. The fourth man, a busy professor, had shooed them out after ten minutes, saying they could attend his lecture if they yearned for more of his wisdom.
Jev did not yearn.
“Why are we taking the long route back?” Zenia asked when Jev turned his horse at an intersection where going straight would have made more sense.
“I want to go past the elven embassy.”
“Not so you can thrust a stick through the gate and rattle the bars to irk the guard creature, I hope.”
“I would never do something that immature. Besides, a sword would rattle far more effectively than a stick.” Jev tapped the short sword sheathed opposite his pistol.
“What, then? It’s clear we weren’t welcome.” Zenia gazed at him with her green eyes, and Jev was reminded of the way she’d questioned people today. She’d asked the same types of questions as she might have before, but everyone, save the distracted professor who’d been looking at test tubes instead of them, had grown mesmerized, enthralled as the power of her dragon tear seeped into them.
It had been advantageous, but Jev found it disconcerting too. He had seen dragon tears used countless times in his life, but not by someone he hoped to entice to become more than a friend. It occurred to him that she could use that power on him if she wanted. Not that Jev thought Zenia would do that—he didn’t question her morality in the least—but he’d now listened to Cutter explain the “critter-carved” dragon tears twice, and the second time hadn’t made it seem any less dangerous. The thought that Zenia wore something around her throat that was somehow inspired by or even linked to a real dragon… He found it alarming.
Her eyes had widened, too, as Cutter had explained, but she’d assured them she hadn’t had the urge to light anything on fire. Apparently, she—and the dragon tear—had been responsible for putting out the fire in the farmhouse the night before.
“Jev?” Zenia prompted.
“Sorry, I was contemplating your jewelry.”
She grimaced, probably not wanting to discuss it again. “I’ll tell you if it compels me to do something odd, like flicking coins off the top of a treasure mound with my tail.”
“If you grew a tail, I’d like to think I would notice the oddness without you telling me.”
“A tail might be worth it if it came with a treasure mound.”
“Are you… uhm, I don’t think we’ve been paid yet, have we?” Jev groped for a delicate way to ask after her financial situation. “Are you doing well? Need anything?”
“My funds are sufficient for the summer,” she said, her back stiffening slightly.
He lifted an apologetic hand. He’d already figured out she didn’t like to ask for anything or be perceived as needing anything. Especially not by him. He had a feeling she might share such problems with Rhi, but Rhi wasn’t a zyndari who’d never known what it was to be short on funds.
“Good.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Sorry for snapping. I was mostly thinking that with a treasure mound, I could buy fancy clothes suitable for royal parties. I hate to waste my money on frivolous things. I’m positive that clothing appropriate for a royal reception is expensive.”
“Before we left, I asked one of the castle stewards to find you a dress. No need to purchase one.” Jev hoped she wouldn’t find borrowing distasteful. He knew his cousins would have. Wyleria was reasonably practical, but some of the others had numerous outfits they had only worn once.
Zenia’s mouth twisted. “The steward is a man. He might find something… impractical.”
“I don’t think clothing worn to royal shindigs is supposed to be practical.”
“What if there’s not a place for my pistol?”
“Pistols may not be permitted.” Jev choked at the picture of her accessorizing a fancy dress with a gun belt.
“Not even for agents?”
“Uhm, we can ask, but likely not. As for why I want to stop by the embassy, I’m hoping Lornysh will notice we’re around and come out to see us. I asked him to figure out who that Yilnesh was and why he ran.”
“Ah.”
“I’m hoping he’ll come out without us having to knock on the door or deal with elven security again.”
“How will he know we’re outside?” Zenia touched the bump on her blouse from her dragon tear.
Cutter had sensed it from afar. Maybe she thought Lornysh would too. Jev thought Lornysh had to be actively searching to sense magical items, but he didn’t know. If needed, he would try Cutter’s method of gaining his attention.
“You’ll see.” Jev winked and turned them into an alley.
They came out near the tavern that shared a street with the tower’s front gate. He tied his horse in the same spot as the day before but ambled into the tavern instead of toward the walled elven garden. Zenia followed him, her expression skeptical.
It was mid-afternoon, and only a handful of patrons drank in the dim interior. The boisterous laughs and shouts they’d heard the night before hadn’t started up yet. Jev, aware of the bartender eyeing him, went to order two beers. He doubted they would be allowed to amble up to the rooftop without making a purchase.
Zenia’s expression grew more skeptical.
“You think he’ll hear the sounds of our joyous drinking and rush over to join us?” she asked.
“Probably not. I’m not that loud when I drink, joyously or otherwise.”
“That’s true. The one time I saw you drinking, you were passed out on the beach with the girls at the next towel over ogling your chest.”
The bartender pouring beer into ceramic steins lifted his eyebrows and looked toward Jev’s chest.
“It’s more impressive when I’m not wearing clothing,” Jev explained, though he promptly decided an explanation hadn’t been necessary.
“Feel free to demonstrate.” The man plunked the beers down on the bar.
“Uh.” Jev looked at the clientele in the tavern, all of them male, nursing their drinks.
“I don’t know if anyone here wants to see that.”
“Don’t be too sure.” The bartender smirked at him. “Free drinks for a show.”
“I, er.” Jev shouldn’t have been rattled, but he was, especially with Zenia standing a couple of feet away and watching, her expression shifting to one of amusement. “I’ll pay.”
He fumbled in his purse and laid coins on the bar without looking at them. He grabbed the drinks and hustled toward the winding stairs in the back.
“You paid too much,” Zenia said, following him.<
br />
“To escape without any more comments about my chest? I don’t think so.”
“I think you could have gotten a free meal as well as beverages if you flirted with him.”
“I’d much rather flirt with you.”
“Even though I don’t own a tavern and can’t offer beer in exchange?”
“I can overlook such minor shortcomings.”
Jev led her up the stairs to a rooftop patio with a few wobbly tables and chairs spread around. A broken umbrella leaned against the wall next to the door, failing to offer any shade.
Jev set the drinks down and headed to the lip of the roof overlooking the street. And the elven compound. Trees blocked the view of the windows on the first few levels of the tower, but he could see two windows on the fourth floor. He hunted around for the pebbles Cutter had mentioned and found a few broken pieces of mortar.
The two windows were identical, so he didn’t know which one connected to Lornysh’s room. Maybe he would get lucky. If he could throw far enough and accurately enough. He’d hate to admit that his dwarven friend had a better arm than he did.
As he prepared to throw, Zenia cleared her throat behind him.
“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” she said.
He turned and spotted someone standing next to her, the dark hood and cloak appearing odd in the bright sunlight. Lornysh pushed his hood back.
“He says he also came in the hope of glimpsing your chest,” Zenia said.
Lornysh gazed flatly at her, glanced at the bulge of the dragon tear under her blouse, then nodded a greeting to Jev.
“I think he’s more interested in your chest.” Jev dropped the pieces of mortar and joined them.
“What?” Zenia stepped back, flinging a hand to her chest before she seemed to realize what he meant.
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 46