Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  “Would Iridium have done this?” Rhi asked. “I can’t imagine why the guilds would pick a fight with the elves.”

  “Nor can I.”

  Zenia circled the main mass of rubble, what had been the location of the tower, and spotted a bunch of greenery on the far side of the pile. The remains of some garden? No, the foliage was on top of the rubble, not buried under it.

  “What is that?” she murmured, climbing over slabs of rock for a better view.

  Finally, she stopped atop a pile and faced the greenery. Dozens and dozens of vines were woven together in a flowing pattern that lay atop the rubble. Whatever they were, they had definitely been placed after the tower fell. And, assuming people’s reports of the explosion had reached the castle promptly, this had been done under the bright, revealing light of day. Who would have taken the time for this elaborate setup after blowing up the tower?

  “Are those words?” Zenia asked as Rhi scrambled to the top of the pile with her.

  “You’re asking me? To my eyes, it looks like an infestation of weeds.”

  “A very ordered one in a sweeping pattern.” The vines themselves seemed to shift and flex slightly as Zenia looked upon them. They reminded her of the sword that warden had used, the one that had grown vines to wrap around Jev’s limbs. She took a couple of steps back. “Unfortunately, we need someone who can read elven.”

  “That can be arranged,” a woman said from the other side of the courtyard. Princess Yesleva.

  She and Targyon walked in, bodyguards trailing them. Two of the bodyguards started toward Zenia and Rhi, wearing the determined expressions of bouncers, but Targyon said something quietly and waved them toward the main gate.

  Zenia lifted her head, mollified. She was one of Targyon’s agents. It was her place to be here, investigating a crime.

  “May I offer you a hand, Highness?” Targyon asked when the princess came around the pile and looked like she would climb up beside Zenia and Rhi for a better look.

  Zenia scooted to the side to make room, and Rhi hopped down.

  Yesleva smiled at Targyon but jumped lightly from perch to perch on her own. She gripped her chin and gazed at the vines.

  “It is a warning,” she said.

  “I had a feeling it wasn’t a dinner invitation,” Rhi grumbled.

  Targyon frowned at her.

  “Your Highness,” Rhi added.

  “It says that there can be no peace between the Taziir and the savage humans of this kingdom. Any elves who attempt to make overtures will be considered traitors and punished accordingly.” She clenched her jaw, her eyes blazed with indignation, and she spat a stream of words in her own language.

  Zenia had no idea what they meant, but they did not sound ladylike.

  Targyon blinked a few times. Maybe he understood some of them.

  “I think if it had been a dinner invitation,” Rhi whispered, “she would have rejected it.”

  Zenia held a finger to her lips. She didn’t want to be ordered to leave because Rhi was irking people.

  But Yesleva paid her no heed. She finished her tirade and looked at Targyon.

  “King Targyon,” she said formally, “I wish to have this facility rebuilt. One of my attendants has architectural experience.” She waved in the direction of the harbor and her ship. “I will have him draw up blueprints. Do you have someone who can assist me in overseeing the construction? I will, of course, pay for the labor.”

  “I can provide numerous assistants, Your Highness,” Targyon said. “But I refuse to let you pay for anything. It is my fault this happened.”

  “It is not. My people are responsible for this sabotage.” She thrust a hand toward the vines. “They used elven magic to destroy an elven structure. This is unforgivable.”

  Zenia felt a warning tingle from her dragon tear, and a second later, the foliage spelling out the warning withered and turned brown, then turned to dust. An unnatural breeze kicked up, smelling of earth and rich foliage rather than of the sea and the city, as one would expect. It blasted the dust into oblivion.

  Zenia stirred uneasily, not heartened by Yesleva’s display of power. It meant the princess, should she ever turn against them, had strong magic of her own to call upon. Maybe she could also conjure up golems from the bowels of the earth.

  “I am my father’s chosen representative in this matter,” Yesleva said. “I will not be scared away by unprincipled rogues who work at odds with the king’s will and take the law into their own hands.”

  Zenia was a little encouraged to hear that those wardens hadn’t been sent by the king, but she didn’t know if it mattered. They were here, and the elven king was a continent away. Did his daughter have the power to stop them?

  A boom rang out in the harbor, and Zenia jumped.

  “What now?” Targyon groaned.

  Frowning, Yesleva leaped from the small rubble pile to the main one. She ran up it as if it were the smoothest of slopes, and from her perch, she looked over the wall and toward the harbor.

  Zenia, Targyon, and Rhi climbed up after her. The rubble pile was just tall enough for them to see over the tavern across the street and to the part of the harbor where the elven ship was docked. Where it had been docked. Wood and bits and pieces of green foliage floated among the wreckage of the pier. They were all that remained of the ship. The vessels around it were all damaged, as well, but only the elven ship had been obliterated. Like the tower.

  Yesleva whispered something in her own language and then added, “They go too far.” She shook her head. “They go too far.”

  Targyon’s expression vacillated between rage and horror.

  Zenia mostly felt numb. Had elves been aboard that ship when it had blown? The very architect the princess had spoken of? An entire crew?

  Zenia didn’t know if the same party of elves had been responsible or if some human coalition had decided the Taziir weren’t welcome in the city. If it was the latter, her people could be in a lot of trouble. And if it was the former… she wasn’t sure that was much better. The princess might not blame Korvann for events happening on kingdom soil, but would her father be as understanding? What if he believed Targyon had allowed this to happen? Or had even colluded to assist the elves?

  Targyon looked at Zenia. “Meet me in my office in an hour. Find Jev and make sure he’s there too.”

  Though Zenia didn’t know where Jev was currently—still out at his family’s castle?—she nodded and said, “Yes, Sire.”

  She had a feeling the Crown Agents were about to get a new mission.

  The sun was setting as Jev dismounted in front of the king’s stable, feeling guilty that his personal business had kept him away the majority of the day. It wouldn’t be so bad if Dharrow Castle were closer to the city, but after a thousand-odd years, he doubted the rest of the family wanted to change addresses.

  A stable boy came out to take his horse as Zenia rushed out of the castle and jogged straight at Jev.

  “I need you,” she said, gripping his arm.

  The stable boy snorted and smirked. He was old enough to understand the possible connotations of such a phrase and young enough to find it highly amusing.

  “Actually, the king needs you,” Zenia added, not glancing at the boy.

  “You had me excited there for a moment,” Jev said, heading toward the closest door to the castle. He wasn’t sure if Zenia’s mind was as randy as that of the stable boy’s or if she would fail to catch the innuendo.

  She quirked her eyebrows. “The addition of Targyon makes the offer less exciting?”

  “Decidedly so, yes. How did you know I was coming?” He hoped Zenia hadn’t been waiting by the door for long.

  “My dragon tear did.”

  “Ah.”

  “Targyon needs us in a meeting. Three minutes ago. That’s why I was waiting for you. The elven tower was blown up, and so was the elven ship. I’m not sure if any of the princess’s crew were aboard or if they were staying in the castle, but either way, i
t’s egregious.”

  The startling news took a moment to digest.

  “Do we know who did it?” Jev remembered Iridium blowing up one corner of the Water Order Temple.

  “The princess seems certain it was those elven wardens.”

  “I thought they were just after Lornysh.”

  Not that wanting to kill him wasn’t bad enough.

  “Apparently not.”

  Since Zenia was running, Jev had to hurry to keep up with her. He lamented that they were late for a meeting he hadn’t known about. He suspected this wouldn’t be the best time to ask Targyon for a dragon tear.

  “My father agreed to meet with you,” Jev said as they climbed the stairs toward Targyon’s office.

  “What?” Zenia threw a startled look over her shoulder.

  Maybe it wasn’t the best time to bring that up either. But he was rattled that his father—or more precisely that conniving Zyndari Bludnor—had already set a wedding date. A close date.

  “I’ll explain more later. I was hoping that he’d warm up to you if he met you, but now I’m hoping you can tell if a zyndari with a dragon tear is manipulating him.”

  “All right. I’ll go up after this situation with the elves is under control.”

  Jev thought about mentioning the wedding date, but it could wait.

  The bodyguards outside the office waved them through the already-open door. The secretary was standing at the open inner door. He also waved them through. It was more of a hurry-up shooing motion.

  Inside, Targyon paced back and forth in front of his desk. Princess Yesleva, whom Jev had only met briefly when she had retrieved the Eye of Truth from his castle, sat in a chair next to a low table. Two male elves that Jev hadn’t met stood behind her, their faces carved from stone.

  “Did you bring something to write with?” Targyon asked Jev and Zenia without preamble.

  “Uh,” Jev said.

  Zenia withdrew a small notebook and pen from the compact purse she carried. “I’m ready, Sire.”

  Targyon nodded curtly, then faced the princess. “Please begin whenever you’re ready, Your Highness.”

  Jev didn’t speak, not with Targyon so tense, but he touched Zenia’s shoulder, wanting her to know he appreciated that she was always far more prepared that he was. If his family duties ever required him to step down from this job, he knew she would be fine without him. That made him feel superfluous, but he silently resolved to find an opportunity to work harder for Targyon as soon as his marriage problem was resolved.

  “As I’m sure you’re aware,” Princess Yesleva said in her beautiful lilting voice, “there is a faction within Taziira that has always had isolationist tendencies and that wants nothing to do with humans. They were extremely vocal during the war, and it seems, that hasn’t ended. If anything, they’ve escalated their tactics. As was clear today. They are making their wishes known.” Her lips pursed. “Dramatically.”

  “The Zsayon.” Targyon nodded.

  “They’ve been here for several days at least,” Jev said, also familiar with the faction and not surprised the wardens were affiliated with it. “Four of them. But we thought they came for Lornysh since your people aren’t overfond of him.”

  Yesleva hesitated. “He chose a path that led to that, and he knew the consequences when he started down it.”

  Jev fought the urge to defend his friend since Lornysh had fought against and killed his own people during the war. It had benefited Kor and it had benefited Jev and his unit, but he could grasp why a Taziir princess would condemn him.

  “I understand,” Jev said, “but my point is that I thought he was the sole reason these wardens came. Is that not correct? Is Lornysh a side mission, and you’re the reason they’re here, Highness?”

  Yesleva rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “As far as I know, the Zsayon did not deliver any threats or ultimatums to my father about this journey I’ve chosen to undertake. But then, we did not announce it publicly, since even non-Zsayon Taziir want nothing to do with your kingdom right now. There would have been vehement objections from the population in general.”

  Targyon winced.

  “It is my belief that it wasn’t until they saw my ship arrive and learned that we intend to reestablish an ambassadorial team that they chose to act.”

  “Who told them that’s your agenda?” Zenia looked up from her notepad—she had already scribbled several lines. “It hasn’t made our newspapers yet.”

  “They are powerful enough to learn what they wish to know without reading the news,” Yesleva said.

  “No doubt,” Jev murmured and rubbed his arm where that strange sword-vine had gripped it the day before. “So they came all this way for Lornysh? And then this attack on your ship and the embassy was an opportunistic thing? I’m confused as to why they would harm their own people and destroy elven things to make their point.”

  “They believe violence is an effective way to make a point.” Yesleva shook her head. “They are young and angry. Many of them lost friends and family during your invasion.”

  Targyon winced again.

  “If you try to rebuild the embassy while they’re here,” Zenia said, “won’t they blow it up again?”

  “No,” Targyon said firmly. “Because my Crown Agents are going to find them and stop them. Capture them. Take all their magical artifacts away and put them on a ship sailing away from our continent.”

  Jev tried not to feel daunted. If not for the help of Zenia’s dragon tear, he would have met his end simply battling one of those elves. And Targyon expected them to get rid of all four? Who knew what else besides a shadow golem they could conjure up?

  “Though I’m sure your human agents are capable,” Yesleva said, glancing not at Jev but at Zenia—or maybe the dragon tear resting under the fabric of her dress, “they aren’t a match for elven wardens. I will send my people to deal with these rogues.”

  Her two bodyguards exchanged nervous glances, and one whispered to her in urgent Elvish. He spoke quietly and rapidly, and Jev struggled to hear and translate, but he caught the gist. They had lost a couple of their best people in the explosion of their ship, they had only one warden among the elves they had brought, and her small escort wouldn’t be a match for the might of their enemies. He urged her to consider returning to Taziira and asking her father to send trained wardens loyal to him to deal with the Zsayon elves.

  The princess held up a hand. “We will not run fleeing with our tails between our legs,” she spoke in the kingdom tongue. “They will believe they’ve won, and it will only bolster the Zsayon and those silent elves who support them. We—” She broke off with a frown and faced one of the tall windows behind the desk.

  Twilight had descended outside, and Jev couldn’t see anything except the reflection of Targyon’s lamps in the glass.

  But then the window opened, and a breeze whispered in.

  “Intruder,” one of the bodyguards barked in Elvish.

  He and his colleague drew their blades and sprang toward the desk as Targyon jumped to the side.

  Lornysh hopped down from the window sill and lifted open hands, showing he held no weapon. A fresh gash marred his left cheek, and his usually tidy silver hair was tangled, as if he’d been sleeping in shrubs. Maybe he had.

  Jev lunged forward and caught one of the elves by the back of the tunic, afraid they would attack him. They had no more reason than the Zsayon to love Lornysh.

  The elf tried to jerk away as the other one sprang onto the desk, raising his sword.

  “Stop!” Yesleva shouted.

  The guards froze so quickly Jev wondered if she’d added a magical compulsion to the command. They did not, however, lower their weapons. They glared at Lornysh, and he gazed calmly back at them.

  “My desk,” Targyon said, “is not the appropriate place from which to launch attacks.” He also sounded calm, but Jev knew him well enough to spot the worry in his eyes.

  “This traitor could be here to assassinate you,” t
he guard on the desk said, his sword point aimed toward Lornysh’s chest.

  “Or he could be here to offer his assistance,” Jev said. “Let him stand with your warden, and that’ll make two of them against the Zsayon’s four. Two is better than one, right?”

  Lornysh’s silver eyebrows arched. Whatever he’d come for, it hadn’t likely been to offer assistance, at least not to the princess’s party.

  The second bodyguard, the one Jev still gripped from behind, sniffed. “Salyishan will never stand with that traitor.”

  “Put your weapons away,” Yesleva said firmly, and Jev twitched, experiencing an urge to sheath his own weapons even though he hadn’t drawn any.

  The guards sheathed their swords. Yes, that was definitely a magical compulsion.

  At Jev’s side, Zenia frowned and narrowed her eyes.

  “I came to speak with King Targyon,” Lornysh said, facing him and making a point of ignoring the guards. “Actually, to bid you farewell. And you, too, Jev. It’s too dangerous for me to stay here, and I believe my presence led to the princess’s ship being blown up. If they hadn’t come for me, they wouldn’t have witnessed her arrival.”

  Targyon exhaled slowly.

  “Lornysh, you can’t just leave,” Jev said, hoping his second time making the argument would be more effective than the first. “Targyon just assigned Zenia and me to find those elves and kick them out of the kingdom.” He smiled and dropped a fist in his palm, though he still doubted they could handle the wardens, even with every agent in the office and a couple of platoons of soldiers at their backs.

  “I see,” Lornysh said. “You’ve irked Targyon, and he’s sacrificing you so he can hire new agent captains.”

  “I am confident that Zenia and Jev can find a way to deal with them,” Targyon said, not reacting to Lornysh’s sarcasm.

  “I’m not.”

  “Thanks, buddy,” Jev said.

  “Is there a leader?” Zenia asked.

  “What?” Lornysh asked.

  All eyes in the room turned toward Zenia.