Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  Dashing was the word that came to her mind for him. And… sexy.

  “Good evening, Captain Cham.” Jev straightened and offered her his arm.

  Zenia smiled. “Good evening, Zyndar Captain Dharrow.”

  “That’s a mouthful, isn’t it?” He let his gaze drop, drinking her in from head to toe, though he was careful to keep his expression polite and amiable, rather than letting it turn into a leer. Still, warmth rushed through her body again, and she wished they were somewhere else, somewhere private.

  “Is it terribly selfish of me to wish we were attending this reception together for recreational purposes rather than because we’re on duty?” Jev asked.

  “Probably. And unrealistic as I would never be invited to a party like this if I weren’t on the king’s payroll.”

  “I don’t know about that. You look stunning in that dress. I’m sure you look stunning out of it, too, but I’m afraid to bring up nudity these days, as you never know the comments you’ll receive from random eavesdroppers.” He looked down the wide hall toward a couple of stony-faced guards watching them without appearing to watch them.

  “Are you afraid another man might ask to see your chest?”

  “Terrified.”

  Zenia rested her hand on his arm, happy to let him guide her into the ballroom, though she would spend most of the night at Targyon’s side, listening to all the conversations he started. Or, knowing her, butting into them. She was more than ready to question the archmages and might not wait for Targyon to get started. The one exception was Archmage Sazshen, whom Zenia would prefer never to speak with again. But she would be here. And she was as much a suspect as the rest of them were. Zenia would have to talk with her.

  Jev nodded toward the open doors of the ballroom, and she walked side by side with him.

  “Keep an eye on Targyon tonight when you’re with him,” Jev murmured, the words too quiet for the guards to overhear.

  “Why?” A surge of worry flowed into her limbs. “What happened?”

  “Nothing… exactly. But I talked with him a few minutes ago and noticed he was sweating. He promised he was just nervous, but I—” His lips flattened together. “That was one of the symptoms. Fever and sweating.”

  “Did you touch his forehead?”

  “He’s my liege lord. That seemed presumptuous.”

  “Do you want me to touch his forehead?”

  “Yes.”

  Zenia snorted. “It’s all right for me but not for you?”

  “Yes, because he’ll be too busy looking at your female bits to notice.”

  “I feel like it would be appropriate for me to swat you on the chest, zyndar or not.”

  “Very appropriate.” He smiled as they stepped into the ballroom, then nodded toward the only man wearing the royal colors, rich purple and blue with gold trim. “There he is.”

  Zenia let Jev guide her toward Targyon. “What will you be doing while we ask people questions?”

  “Standing by a wall or column and watching to make sure there’s no trouble afoot. Much like Drem there.” His eyes narrowed as he gazed past knots of well-dressed people toward a portion of the wall where Lunis and another agent watched the proceedings.

  Zenia hadn’t asked anyone from the office to come. Had Jev? Or Targyon?

  They were dressed more like the castle guard than guests, in simple black trousers and jackets. Unlike the guards, they did not carry weapons, at least openly, but they both had the appearance of being on duty.

  “Did you assign them this task?” Jev asked.

  “No. Did the king?”

  “It’s possible, but I don’t think so. I talked to him recently, and he’d been warned by Lunis to watch for representatives from the criminal guilds.”

  Zenia wondered if Lunis knew more than she did. She’d read the report Lunis had left on her desk but hadn’t found any evidence in there. Simply rumors and gossip shared by various watchmen and spies around the city about the Fifth Dragon’s activities and how they might relate to the castle and king. Sometimes, rumors and gossip were enough of a lead, but nothing had plucked at Zenia’s intuition.

  “I’m going to talk to her,” she said.

  “I think Targyon is waiting for you.” Jev lifted a hand, acknowledging Targyon, who was looking over at them while speaking with a couple wearing the mustard yellows and browns popular among the leaders of the desert tribes to the south. Diplomats?

  “Tell him I’ll be there in a moment, please.”

  Jev frowned, and Zenia agreed that it wasn’t a good idea to make the king wait, but the instincts that had been silent while reading Lunis’s report started jumping up and down and hollering now. Maybe she should have been reading about Lunis’s background rather than focusing on Brokko and Garlok. Zenia didn’t want to suspect Lunis of anything—damn it, she wanted Lunis to be her first friend among the Crown Agents—but having her show up here without asking permission made Zenia uneasy.

  Was she simply showing initiative? Or was she up to something dodgy?

  “Hope not,” Zenia muttered, heading across the ballroom as Jev veered over to join Targyon.

  She was aware of them talking and pointing after her, but she kept her focus on Lunis. So much so that she almost missed the sea-blue robe stepping out of a gathering of people.

  Zenia halted as Archmage Sazshen stopped in her path. Blocked her path.

  “Archmage.” Zenia made herself curtsy, though she had no interest in sharing social niceties and didn’t think, from the dyspeptic twist of Sazshen’s mouth, that her former boss wanted to engage in them either.

  “Captain, is it now?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “An odd rank for a woman, considering women can’t join the army.”

  “The watch has ranks similar to those of soldiers, and women can join the watch.”

  What a ridiculous discussion to be having now. Zenia looked past Sazshen’s robed shoulder to where Lunis had been standing, but Lunis wasn’t there. The male agent remained by the wall, but where had Lunis gone? There were a couple hundred people in the ballroom, and all the columns, with purple, blue, and gold banners draped around them, offered plenty of obstacles to one’s view.

  “Fascinating, I’m sure. I won’t hold you up for long.” Sazshen, noticing Zenia’s distracted glances around the ballroom, frowned. “I’m sure you’re busy, though doing what, I can’t imagine.” She pursed her lips and frowned her disapproval at the sausage-casing dress. “I do want to make sure you know that I would be extremely displeased if all of the Water Order’s secrets became common knowledge to the king.”

  “I know precious few secrets, Archmage. If I’d known more, perhaps the search for that artifact wouldn’t have turned into a ludicrous man hunt.”

  “The artifact that is now founders know where.” Sazshen shook her head. “Tell me if the king saw it, if he knows what it contained.”

  “The visions it shares? The elf princess who came to retrieve it said she was going to show him. I don’t know if she did.”

  “I see,” Sazshen said coolly. “I see.”

  “I have other matters to worry about tonight, Archmage.” Zenia walked past Sazshen without waiting to be dismissed as she once would have done.

  She strode to the wall where the male agent stood. Khomas. She had recently learned he oversaw tax collection from the zyndar and common subjects around the kingdom. She stopped in front of him. “Good evening, Khomas.” She forced herself to sound civil and not make accusations. “I didn’t realize anyone else from the office would be here tonight.”

  Unlike Zyndar Garlok, Khomas did not carry a dragon tear. Zenia willed hers to lend her the power to see the truth or lack thereof in his words.

  “Hello, ma’am.” He smiled, but she sensed that he didn’t like having to call someone younger than he and far newer to the job ma’am. “Lunis talked me into coming up here instead of going home for the night.” True, she sensed. “She’s real worried that, uhm
. She just thinks maybe people aren’t paying enough attention to the threat from the criminals in the city.”

  Also true, at least insofar as Khomas knew. Zenia could tell that he hadn’t wanted to come and that he didn’t know if the criminal organizations were truly a threat to the king or would make trouble at this reception. He’d come up as a favor to Lunis and hoped to leave before the event ended.

  “Where did she go?” Zenia asked, pleased to have a dragon tear’s assistance again.

  A little trill of warmth came from the gem, as if it was pleased to assist. Maybe that was her imagination. She still needed to spend a couple of days meditating and opening her mind to the dragon tear’s magic.

  “Said she wanted to check the food.” The agent pointed toward the long buffet table stretched along one wall. Lunis wasn’t there. “Not sure where she is now. Maybe she got distracted.”

  True.

  Zenia wished the man knew more, but at least she’d found out quickly that he didn’t. “Thank you. Let her know I’m looking for her if you see her, please.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Zenia turned to check on Jev and Targyon, but a new sensation emanated from her dragon tear. It drew her awareness away from her body and outward, out of the ballroom, through the hall, and toward the castle courtyard. Suddenly, with certainty, she knew Lunis was out there. She didn’t have a dragon tear, so she lacked a magical presence acting as a beacon, but somehow her dragon tear knew who she was looking for. And where she was.

  Had Lunis run off after a suspect? Had she seen Iridium or a known cohort of hers?

  Zenia took a step toward the door, tempted to run out and check, but she spotted Targyon talking to someone new. A tall, lean man in an elegant green robe. Pointed ears poked up through his silver hair. The elven ambassador.

  Jev stood slightly behind Targyon. He noticed Zenia looking their way and lifted a hand, gesturing for her to join them. His eyes bespoke urgency.

  Finding Lunis would have to wait. Zenia strode over to join the men.

  18

  Jev let out a slow, relieved breath when Zenia headed toward them. She had appeared agitated, almost as if she meant to race out of the ballroom, and he hadn’t been certain she would see him waving. Targyon and the ambassador—Lord Shoyalusa, he’d introduced himself as—seemed to be nearing the end of their small talk. Targyon wouldn’t want to ask anything potentially incendiary without Zenia and her dragon tear there.

  Unfortunately, as Lornysh had promised, Shoyalusa wore a dragon tear of his own, the gem displayed prominently on a silver chain around his neck. A tree was carved into the front of the gem. Jev had no idea what powers a tree might grant a person, but he had no doubt the ambassador would be experienced at defending himself from threats.

  The elf looked at Zenia when she approached, and his eyes narrowed. Jev had received a similar look. He had a feeling the ambassador knew the identities of the people responsible for the incident in his garden the day before.

  “Ah, Captain Cham.” Targyon smiled and waved her closer.

  Zenia managed to return the smile and frown with concern at the same time, her gaze flicking toward his forehead. A gleam of sweat lurked there again, and Jev thought Targyon appeared flushed. Founders, what would they do if Targyon had been infected with the same magicked bacteria that had killed his cousins? The idea of losing his young lieutenant—and his new liege lord—made Jev’s heart heavy. Almost as bad was the knowledge that he would have failed Targyon. He’d been on the case all week and hadn’t found the insider or the outsider responsible.

  “Captain Cham,” Targyon said, “this is Ambassador Shoyalusa. Ambassador, one of the leaders of my security forces.”

  Security. Not special agents. Understandable to play down what they did, but Jev doubted the ambassador would be fooled.

  “And do your forces typically trespass on embassy property and start skirmishes with its guards?” Shoyalusa asked coolly.

  Since Jev hadn’t explained that incident to Targyon yet, he rushed to answer. “I was merely attempting to knock on the door to see you, Ambassador. It was your guards who started a skirmish.”

  “Because you, for no reason whatsoever, chased after one my guests.”

  “One of your guests who was skulking away and trying to avoid chatting with us.”

  “My guests are not required to chat with you. And did you not just say that you came to see me? Not anyone else staying at the embassy?”

  Targyon lifted a placating hand, his mouth opening, but Zenia spoke first.

  “If there are criminals staying at your embassy, Ambassador, it is, of course, within your right to house them, but I posit to you that this isn’t a wise course of action. King Targyon is eager for peace, and it’s my understanding, having spoken to one of your princesses, that the majority of your people seek that too. For one of your kind to cause trouble now… It could be misconstrued.”

  Zenia held the ambassador’s gaze as she spoke, her green eyes boring into his. Shoyalusa threw back his shoulders and returned her stare, not looking flustered.

  “There will be no more trouble if you simply let bees in their hive stay there,” he said. “Trust that my people will handle any problems among our own kind, and we have no need of human intervention.”

  That wasn’t the answer Jev had expected. It almost sounded like an admission. Had that furtive elf truly done something criminal? Something the ambassador didn’t approve of?

  “Normally, we are happy to let your people handle your own kind,” Targyon said when Zenia didn’t reply right away—she and the ambassador were busy staring at each other, as if they were locked in some magical mental battle. “But you can understand how important it is for me to bring to justice whomever is responsible for the murder of my cousins.”

  Jev thought the ambassador’s nostrils would flare in indignation at the statement, or maybe he would flinch if he knew something about it, but he did neither. He did not even seem to hear the words. His gaze was still locked with Zenia’s.

  Targyon looked at Jev. As if he knew what to do.

  A faint blue glow seeped out through the front of Zenia’s dress. A green glow emanated from the dragon tear on the elf’s chest. The glows mingled in the air between them like mist rolling in from two fog banks.

  Jev was not wearing any weapons, but he tensed, ready to spring to protect Zenia if the mental sparring match started to look dangerous.

  “Ambassador,” Targyon said firmly, attempting to draw the elf’s attention, “what do you know about the deaths of my cousins? Was one of your people responsible?”

  Zenia staggered back, lifting her hands as if to defend herself. Jev jumped forward, whirling toward the elf as he placed himself between them. But the ambassador also staggered back, raising his hands defensively.

  He recovered before Zenia did, snarling and pointing past Jev’s shoulder at her as he glared at Targyon.

  “That’s quite a bauble you gave your forces, King Targyon. Do you know the lineage on it? I’ll wager I can figure out which of my people it was originally stolen from.”

  Targyon flinched, no doubt remembering the elf princess and the vision the artifact would have shared with him, but he did not retreat from the ambassador’s glare. “Do not change the subject, Shoyalusa. Tell me what you know of the deaths—the murders—of the princes.”

  “I know nothing of their deaths. My kind only monitor the goings on of humans so best to know when you intend to make war on us. We do not interfere with your rule, and we do not murder people.” The ambassador backed several more steps, glancing at Zenia as he did so.

  She had lowered her hands, the pained grimace on her face disappearing. Now she gazed calmly at the elf. Knowingly? Jev hoped so.

  “Since this reception of yours was a thinly veiled excuse to interrogate me, I will depart now.” The ambassador glanced at Zenia—no, at her chest and the faint blue glow still escaping the confines of her dress. “I’ll be certain to s
end you the details of that dragon tear when I learn them, so it can be, if you are an honorable ruler, returned to the family of its rightful owner.”

  “A dwarf, right?” Jev asked. “According to the vision I saw, dwarves mined out all the dragon tears and only gave them to elves for safekeeping.”

  Targyon cleared his throat. Right, this wasn’t what was important tonight. The elf was trying to divert their attention.

  “Ambassador,” Targyon started, but Shoyalusa thrust up a hand.

  “I’m done here. Goodnight.” He bowed like he had a board glued to his spine, then stalked out of the ballroom.

  “Zenia?” Jev hoped she’d learned what they needed. Had she found a way past the elf’s dragon tear for a mental probe?

  Targyon coughed, drawing a concerned look from both of them.

  “Sire?” Jev rested a hand on his shoulder as four of his bodyguards approached. “Get a doctor,” he ordered one of them.

  “No, no,” Targyon rasped, lifting a hand. “I’m fine.”

  “Get a doctor,” Jev repeated, using his sternest commander’s voice.

  He braced himself, expecting Targyon to argue further and expecting the bodyguard to be unwilling to disobey him. But one of the men ran off, not waiting for a counter order.

  Targyon sighed at Jev, but all he did was wave the other three bodyguards back and focus on Zenia. “Did you learn anything useful, Captain?”

  Zenia nodded. “He’s not positive, but he believes one of his guests created the modified bacteria that was used against your cousins.”

  Targyon clenched his jaw and glanced at the exit the ambassador had taken, as if he meant to chase after him. Jev tightened his grip on Targyon’s shoulder. He and Zenia would handle the ambassador, if he needed to be handled. It was that wall-climbing cloaked elf that they truly needed to locate.

  “I didn’t get a chance to ask him if he knew if the guest had delivered the infectious agent or if he had inside help. It’s likely he doesn’t know. The guest—I’d recognize him if I saw him because his face was clear to me in the ambassador’s thoughts, despite his attempt to block me—has spiky brown hair, not typical for an elf. He’s a renowned scientist, or was, back in his homeland, but he joined the—I can’t pronounce it, but I think it’s their word for the young elves who wanted to do something about humans.”