Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  The wince turned into an expression that managed to be both confused and flabbergasted.

  “Just talk to the girl, Jev. She’s waiting patiently for you.”

  Maybe so, but the mother was the one up there glaring down at them. Maybe she could hear their conversation.

  “I’ll make a deal with you, Father. I’ll have lunch with Fremia if you agree to have a chat with Zenia.”

  “We’ve already chatted.” Father flung his hand toward the fountain.

  “I believe you’re thinking of the chat you had with her assistant, Rhi. Zenia isn’t an inquisitor anymore. She works for Targyon, the same as I do. There’s no reason to feel distaste for her.”

  “Except that she had her nose up in the air the whole time she was here, as if she was equal to us. Or better.”

  “Do you accept my deal or not? I’m prepared to leave you here to have lunch with them yourself.”

  “You wouldn’t walk out on a woman expecting to meet you. I’ve taught you better than that.”

  “You made the date, not me.”

  “Don’t be flippant with me,” his father snapped.

  Jev raised his eyebrows, not willing to budge. Maybe a part of him hoped his father would set him free of his obligations and that he could escape his duty. His destiny.

  The old man sighed. “Fine. I’ll speak with her.”

  Jev almost blurted a surprised, “Really?” But he didn’t. He nodded once. “Your word on it?”

  That indignation flared in his father’s eyes again. He had to hate the insinuation that his implied word wasn’t good enough, but he’d brought this doubt upon himself.

  “My word. Send her up to speak with me when you wish.” The old man didn’t mention the possibility of a lunch.

  Oh well. Zenia would probably find it torture to spend more than ten minutes with him.

  “And now, your new lady is waiting for you.” Father gestured toward the stairs leading up to the balcony.

  The mother was gone.

  8

  Zenia sat down at a table in the library with a stack of books.

  That morning, she’d sent an agent to get reports from her half-elf informant as well as the informant who worked in the port authority office. She wanted information on the elven princess and her ship—she was concerned Yesleva wasn’t all that she seemed and might be an intentional or unintentional threat to the kingdom—but Zenia didn’t feel she could walk up and interview her. Earlier that morning, Zenia had glimpsed Yesleva with Targyon, who had been giving her a tour of the gardens, a huge entourage of castle guards and elven bodyguards trailing them. No, Zenia couldn’t simply walk up and ask questions.

  While she waited for the reports, she was trying to find something that could help her with her dragon-tear problem. The books she’d selected from the shelves discussed dwarven and elven magic. Her earlier research on dragon tears hadn’t been fruitful, but perhaps one of these more general texts would hold useful information. The others had all been from human points of view, but a couple of these had been translated from books originally written in Dwarfish or Elvish.

  Less than a half hour into Zenia’s reading, Rhi ambled in and found her.

  Zenia had been distracted from her original research by a chapter about the magical swords that elven wardens were given and how the custom-forged gifts reflected the personalities of their owners. She stuck a bookmark in the book so she could come back to it. Since she and Jev kept getting attacked by wardens, it would be good to know as much as possible about them—and their glowing swords.

  “You have reports for me?” Zenia asked.

  Rhi wasn’t the agent she had sent to gather information, but someone might have volunteered her to find Zenia in the library.

  “As it happens, I do.” Rhi plopped down in a chair and laid scraps of paper on the table. “Garlok was blustering about how things were done in his day, so I took these from Agent Yu and fled. Eventually, I found my way here.”

  “Eventually? I told Sevy to let people know I was in the library if they needed me.”

  “I might have taken the circuitous route through the stables.”

  “The stables aren’t on the way up here.”

  “That’s why it was a circuitous route. Have you ever chatted with that handsome young man with the floppy hair that works down there? He has lovely forearm muscles. I got him to agree to spar with me later. I must keep in tiptop form in case my boss decides to take me with her the next time she assaults an elven stronghold.”

  “Assaults? Jev and I went to snoop in desk drawers.” Zenia picked up the scraps of paper.

  “Do you deny assaulting happened?”

  “I deny that we did it.”

  “Exactly why you should have had me along.”

  Zenia skimmed the message on the first piece of paper. “Jia reports that Yesleva is the fourth daughter and seventh child of the Taziir king Yvelon. She’s held many positions in her two hundred years and often runs diplomatic errands for her father, but she’s never been stationed long-term in another nation.” Zenia turned over the note. “That’s it. Nothing more than is publicly known, I’m afraid. I suppose you wouldn’t expect a half-elf who has lived here her whole life to be an expert on the Taziir nation.” It would have been convenient if she had more information, but Jia was still a good resource.

  Rhi shrugged noncommittally. “Maybe you’ll find the next note more enlightening.”

  Zenia picked it up, but it was nonsense.

  “It’s in code.” Rhi smirked. “It’s possible your port authority buddy has a lot of time on his hands.”

  “Maybe it’s just so juicy that he feared it would be intercepted by unfriendly eyes.”

  “Uh huh. Ten krons says he’s waxing nostalgic about some of the collections he started in his youth. Or enthusiastically talking about pressed leaves.”

  “I shouldn’t have introduced you to him.”

  “Definitely not,” Rhi said.

  “Did he send a key along?”

  “Not that I heard. This is all Yu gave me. Maybe he expects that you, in your crime-solving brilliance, will be able to decrypt it with one eye covered.” Rhi leaned back in her chair and propped her sandaled feet on the table.

  Zenia frowned, tempted to give it to Frankell, who handled secret communications, but Rhi’s comment sounded like a challenge. Besides, the lengths of the words were normal, even if the letter combinations were gobbledegook. It was probably a simple substitution cipher. With an introduction at the top and a capitalized four-letter word? Her name? Cham?

  Going on that assumption, she found the pattern quickly and created a key by shifting letters three places to the right in the alphabet. She grabbed a pen.

  “That’s it,” she said as she started writing the shifted letters atop the originals.

  “You already figured it out?” Rhi set her feet back on the floor and leaned forward.

  “You doubted my crime-solving brilliance?”

  “I didn’t know it would help with decoding messages from loons.”

  “He’s not a loon. He’s a valuable informant.”

  “He’s a loony valuable informant. What does it say?”

  A lot. He was more verbose than their half-elf informant. “He describes the elven ship and mentions that they didn’t send word ahead, that it was a surprise when it arrived. Two dozen watchmen and dock security officers ran out as the ship glided into the harbor because there was concern that it was a warship, here to start a fight.”

  “A warship? If you flicked a match at that thing, it would burn to a crisp.”

  “I’m sure magic protects it from that fate.” Zenia held up a hand so Rhi would let her finish. “All two dozen of the men stopped and lined up, not reaching for their weapons. They stared with blank expressions on their faces as the elves—Princess Yesleva and several bodyguards—walked past them. Our informant didn’t hear what was said to his boss, but carriages soon arrived to take the elves to the cas
tle. He notes that magic was definitely used to placate everyone, because people were suspicious of the ship’s arrival.”

  “Comforting to know elves can use magic to stroll through the city and up to the castle any time they want,” Rhi said. “You think she magicked Targyon too?”

  “I’m not sure. He was smitten before she arrived at the castle.”

  “Smitten? Does that mean she magicked him last time she was here? This is the same elf that you gave that artifact to, right?”

  “Yes. And I believe she did have a long chat with Targyon that night.”

  “A chat? Or a chat?” Rhi wriggled her eyebrows.

  “I didn’t ask.”

  “It’s a little hard to imagine Targyon attracting a gorgeous elf princess, but maybe she has ulterior motives.”

  “Targyon is handsome. He’s just young.” Zenia, fearing her friend was about to comment on asses and stallions, held up her hand again.

  Which was fortunate, because the main library doors opened and voices flowed inside. Zenia leaned out of the alcove that held her table to see Targyon stroll in at the princess’s side with elven and human guards flanking them. Yesleva and Targyon weren’t holding hands or walking arm-in-arm, but judging from the way he kept smiling at her, he would like them to be.

  “Maybe you should hide,” Rhi whispered to Zenia.

  “Me? Why?”

  “Didn’t you blow a hole in the elven tower? What if she’s planning to move in there?”

  Zenia shook her head.

  “This is my favorite room,” Targyon said, gesturing expansively to the library. “I adore books of all kinds. I lament that my new job—life—doesn’t leave me much time for reading for pure enjoyment. I get to read a lot of reports, but they’re incredibly dry. I’ve been trying to decide if my uncle Abdor inculcated that tendency or merely chose extremely humorless men to serve under him.”

  Yesleva smiled. Zenia couldn’t tell if she truly enjoyed Targyon’s burbling or if she was being indulgent and diplomatic.

  Zenia almost reached for her dragon tear, wanting a better read on her, but she paused, reminding herself that such tactics were for enemies, not guests of the king. Also, she suspected the princess would sense any such intrusion. She surely had magic of her own and wasn’t like the simple elven embassy guards Zenia had once manipulated into answering questions.

  As if sensing her thoughts, Yesleva looked over at her and raised her delicate blonde eyebrows.

  Zenia lifted her chin. She had every right to be here and to want to protect her king and her kingdom.

  One of Targyon’s bodyguards veered toward them. “Captain Cham? You’ll have to move your work elsewhere.”

  “Of course,” Zenia said, though she wanted to object to moving all her stuff—or missing out on her chance to spy firsthand on the princess. This wasn’t, however, a public or university library. Everything in this castle belonged to the king, and she worked here at his whim.

  But as she reached for her books, Yesleva headed toward her.

  “We don’t need to interrupt Inquisitor Cham’s research, do we?” Yesleva asked Targyon. “I’d hate for my presence to disrupt those working in your castle, Your Majesty.”

  Zenia was relieved she called him by title and not Targyon. Or Targy or some such. She didn’t truly want Yesleva to be here for ulterior motives or to manipulate anyone. When she’d come to get the Eye of Truth, she’d seemed to have the good of humanity in mind. If not for that anonymous note, Zenia didn’t know if she would suspect the princess.

  “I’m honored that you remember me, Your Highness,” Zenia said, hoping that was the appropriate honorific for an elven princess. She knew it worked for human princesses in this and two other kingdoms, but who knew what was proper in Taziira? “It’s Captain Cham. I work for the king now instead of the Water Order Temple.”

  “Ah? That’s good for him certainly.” Yesleva turned her smile toward Rhi. “I also remember your comrade. And how effectively she knocks men into fountains.”

  “Yes,” Rhi said. “Yes, I do.” She curtsied.

  “Were you able to return that artifact to a safe place?” Zenia asked.

  Targyon stood back and clasped his hands behind his back, appearing content to let them have their reunion.

  “It is in a safe place, yes,” Yesleva said. “I’ve returned on an unrelated matter. Ambassador Shoyalusa no longer wishes to hold a position here. Even though you vanquished a number of troll scouts, he believes your kingdom may still be in danger and that our people should stay out of a potential war between humanity and the trolls and their allies.”

  Zenia grimaced, wishing humanity had more allies.

  “Unfortunately, that war is still a valid concern,” Targyon said. “We drove the trolls from our nearby swamps, but we’re not certain if that alone will deter them from attacking our kingdom.”

  “It is true that once a troll gets a burr in his hide,” Yesleva said, “he’s disinclined to do anything except work it out.”

  Zenia thought that would be true for most species but suspected Yesleva was quoting some elven saying.

  “Apparently, we need to figure out how to be less burry,” Targyon said, smiling.

  Zenia expected the princess to rejoin him—she and Rhi couldn’t be that interesting to royalty—but Yesleva glanced toward Zenia’s chest. The dragon tear was tucked under the yellow linen shirt Zenia wore today, but she had no doubt the elf sensed it.

  “My father is working on convincing a new ambassador to volunteer for this assignment, but nothing happens quickly in Taziira.” Yesleva smiled. “We are a slow and deliberate people when it comes to politics. I volunteered to come temporarily to your kingdom so there would be an elven presence in the city.”

  “To keep an eye on us?” Rhi arched her eyebrows.

  Targyon cleared his throat and shot her a warning squint.

  Yesleva’s smile only widened. She did not appear offended, but Zenia suspected a two-hundred-year-old world-traveling elf would be experienced at wearing a diplomatic face.

  “I believe the true reason she’s visiting,” Targyon said, “must be to hear me read my poetry.”

  “I’m sure that’s it,” Rhi said in a very bland tone.

  Zenia took that to mean Targyon had taken Jev’s suggestion about sharing a poem. Had it been well received?

  “Had I known about the poetry, I would have been here weeks ago.” Yesleva’s green eyes twinkled.

  If Zenia hadn’t been looking at the king of Kor and a princess of Taziira, she would have been positive they were flirting with each other. Targyon, she believed, was genuinely flirting, but Zenia had a hard time believing the elf wasn’t up to more.

  “Are you wearing a different dragon tear from the last time I saw you, Captain Cham?” Yesleva tilted her head. “What are you a captain of now? It’s my understanding that most human nations do not allow women in their military organizations.”

  “I’m one of the heads of His Majesty’s Crown Agents.” Realizing she shouldn’t allude to Kor having a spy network, especially when they spied on elves as well as every other people in the world, Zenia gestured at Rhi and added, “We solve crimes.”

  “Actually, she solves them,” Rhi said. “I just thump people.”

  “Your Highness,” Targyon murmured to her.

  “I thump people, Your Highness,” Rhi corrected.

  Targyon sighed. Maybe thumping wasn’t appropriate language to use with royalty. Zenia could think of worse.

  Yesleva arched her eyebrows, not at Rhi’s language but at Zenia. And her dragon tear.

  Zenia had been thinking of asking the princess if she knew anything about it, but the fact that Yesleva had shown interest in it before Zenia had withdrawn it made her uneasy.

  “The king lent it to me to use in his service,” she said simply.

  Yesleva opened her mouth, but a page burst into the library before she spoke.

  “Sire,” he blurted. “It’s the elve
n embassy. Someone blew it up.”

  “Another hole?” Rhi asked.

  “It’s been completely annihilated.” The page waved his hands expansively. “There’s nothing but rubble left.”

  Targyon cursed, using far worse words than thump. He had the grace to look abashed when he recovered and glanced at the princess.

  Yesleva didn’t look surprised by the page’s announcement. Had she already known? Or was she simply accustomed to masking her features? Right now, her face was impossible to read.

  “My sincerest apologies.” Targyon bowed to her. “I’ll look into this right away. I assure you that you won’t be in danger here in the castle.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Yesleva said as Targyon started for the door.

  “Of course,” he said, waiting so she could walk at his side. Their pace was far more rushed than it had been on their way into the library. The guards swept after them, their faces also masked.

  “Why do people keep blowing up that tower?” Rhi asked when they were alone again.

  “It wasn’t blown up before,” Zenia said. “The completely repairable hole in the outer wall was an inadvertent result of battling a golem.”

  “So… it was blown out?”

  “Your wit will surely win that stablehand to your bedroom soon.”

  “It’s not my wit he was looking at when I bent over.” Rhi winked.

  Zenia tidied her stack of books and swept them up to take to her room for further perusal, but that would wait for later. She wanted to see the tower for herself. If someone had truly blown it up, she was likely about to have a new case to solve.

  Jev stepped onto the large balcony and did his best to smile at the young woman sitting at the decorative wrought-iron table in a cleared area surrounded by potted plants and small trees. Birds chirped from feeders dangling from branches, the feathered creatures too fat and indolent to flap away at his approach. Someone must have been refilling the seed since his grandmother left the castle.

  “Jev Dharrow?” Fremia stood and stepped forward, reaching for his hands as she smiled at him. “You’re even more handsome than the picture in that article I saw. I remember you from when I was a little girl, but that was a long time ago, and I wasn’t sure…” She glanced aside to the other person on the balcony with them.