Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series

by Lindsay Buroker

  “That looks like trouble,” Rhi said, as the pointing teenage girl stalked toward Zenia. “I knew I shouldn’t have gone shopping without my bo.”

  “You would have had a hard time fondling all the wares in that shop if you’d been holding a weapon at the time.”

  “I barely got to fondle any as it was. That old coot kept yanking things out of my hands. I hope Hux knows it’s wise to let a woman fondle his wares.”

  The teenagers must have heard that as they approached. They wrinkled their noses and exchanged disgusted looks. The one who had initially pointed seemed familiar, but Zenia couldn’t place her.

  Zenia tried to walk around the pair without engaging them in conversation, knowing nothing good could come out of whatever gossip or complaints were on their lips, but they planted themselves in front of her.

  “You’re Jev Dharrow’s mistress,” the first speaker stated, propping her fists on her hips. The flowing green silk she wore almost hid those fists within the loose folds. Her friend assumed a similarly accusatory stance.

  “Jev isn’t married.” Zenia looked past their shoulders to the man carrying their belongings, hoping an older adult might pull the teenagers away with a few stern words, but he only sighed and gazed blankly toward the fountain.

  “He was supposed to be. To me.” The teenager stabbed a thumb at her chest.

  Ah, that was why Zenia somewhat recognized her. She’d met the mother, and their facial features and body types were similar.

  “Are you even old enough to know what to do with a man?” Rhi asked.

  Zenia grabbed Rhi’s arm, hoping to guide her away. The last thing she wanted was to engage in a dung-flinging contest with a zyndari girl.

  “I am well-schooled in the ways of pleasuring my future husband,” the girl—Fremia, that was her name—said, her chin up. “As I informed Jevlain when we met.”

  “And he wasn’t intrigued?” Rhi smiled as she allowed Zenia to guide her into the street. “You poor thing. How disappointing.”

  “How dare you speak to us like that, you common filth.” Fremia's friend spat toward Rhi’s sandaled feet, then shook a fist at Zenia. “You think you’ll be permitted to marry a zyndar? A Dharrow? It’ll never happen.”

  “Never,” Fremia added, then whirled toward her friend. “Can you believe what bitches they are? Why are they shopping up here? They can’t possibly afford anything. I hope—”

  Flames and smoke appeared around the two girls.

  Rhi stumbled, almost tripping on the cobblestones. Zenia, having seen such a display before, was less startled, but she winced and pulled her dragon tear out from under her blouse.

  Not now, she thought silently, but it was too late.

  The two girls’ expensive silks were incinerated, piles of ashes wafting down around their feet as they shrieked and flailed their arms. They now stood wearing nothing but their small clothes. Everyone who was walking along the shopping boulevard stopped and stared. A steam carriage driver slowed his vehicle to gawk. The girls’ servant appeared too stunned to say anything or even move.

  “You,” Fremia whirled, thrusting a finger toward Zenia. “You dare!”

  “Captain of the watch,” the second girl hollered, running toward an intersection.

  A uniformed man down there turned at the call.

  “Let’s go,” Zenia said, continuing down the street in the opposite direction at a brisk pace. She doubted she, as captain of His Majesty’s Crown Agents, had to worry about being arrested for magically assaulting zyndari girls, but… she could imagine being detained and having to wait in a cell as someone was brought down from the castle to vouch for her. Dear founders, she hoped it wouldn’t be Targyon himself. Whatever would she say? She didn’t think he fully grasped that her dragon tear had a mind of its own—it wasn’t as if normal dragon tears did such things—and he might believe she’d been the one petty enough to do that.

  Rhi hurried along at her side but not without a lot of chortling.

  “Stop laughing,” Zenia whispered.

  “If you didn’t want me to laugh, you shouldn’t have incinerated those girls’ clothing.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  Rhi gave her a disbelieving look.

  “My dragon tear did,” Zenia said, hurrying around a corner and not looking back, though she could hear the indignant girls shouting to the watchman. “It’s linked to the soul of a dragon, remember?” A few days ago, she wouldn’t have admitted that the gem had a mind of its own, as she’d been afraid people would think it—and her—odd, but now that Princess Yesleva had explained the link in front of Rhi and Jev, there was little point in hiding it.

  “A dragon two thousand miles away is making trouble for you?” Rhi asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And we’re going off to rescue it from imprisonment?”

  “You were there for the princess’s explanation. You know as much as I do.”

  “That’s alarming since you’re my boss and the one with the dragon tear. What happens after we free it? Assuming we can get past all those unpleasantries the senior and most crusty Hydal mentioned.”

  “I’m not sure.” Zenia imagined a dragon flying over the capital city, igniting the dresses of zyndari women throughout the streets. As appealing as that might be, she could easily see the entire watch and castle guard coming out to shoot at such a visitor. As far as she knew, dragons didn’t show up in populated areas unless they meant to hunt people down for dinner.

  “You’re not sure? And yet, I’m going along with you on this quest anyway?”

  “You must be a good friend,” Zenia said.

  “Oh, that’s a certainty.” A whistle blew, and Rhi glanced back. “We should run.”

  “We are His Majesty’s Crown Agents. Running from the watch would be unseemly.”

  “What about ducking into that eating house so they don’t see us?”

  Zenia hesitated as a whistle blew again, the noise closer this time. “It is well into the dinner hour.”

  They hustled for the door, and Zenia tried not to dwell on the very valid concerns Rhi had brought up. If they actually found this young and impulsive—and incineration-loving—dragon, what then?

  2

  When the steam carriage arrived at the docks, two porters appeared and removed Jev’s bags as soon as he stepped out. Even though all the luggage packed in the back was to go onto the ship Targyon had arranged for this expedition, the men made a point of rooting through it all to first grab the bags with the Dharrow emblem embossed on the sides. Rhi, who stood at Jev’s side, folded her arms and watched this preferential treatment with a dour expression on her face.

  Hydal climbed out of the carriage after them. He cocked an eyebrow as the porters took Jev’s luggage toward the gangplank of the passenger steamer docked a few dozen yards away, and pulled his own bags off the rack without a word. Cutter hopped out, his sizable pack already strapped to his back, and jostled a few people with it as they walked past along the boardwalk. With a magical hammer hanging from his broad leather belt, a sharp hook replacing his right hand, and a broad face that always looked grumpy behind the beard, nobody said anything.

  Zenia, the last of their little party, slid out of the carriage, and Jev smiled at her.

  She wore rugged travel clothing, but she managed to look lovely with her black hair pulled back from her high cheekbones and divided into two braids. Her chin had the familiar upward tilt, and her green eyes gleamed with determination. Her dragon tear lay atop her button-down ivory shirt, the necklace Jev had made for it gleaming warmly in the early-morning sun.

  He’d gathered from her handful of words on the ride down from the castle that Zenia viewed this upcoming adventure with trepidation, but he looked forward to it. While they’d been preparing for the trip, they had caught up with the piles of work in the office, and it had only taken Jev a couple of days, sitting in his hard chair with a pen clenched between his fingers, to long for something more active. He had n
o doubt this expedition would be dangerous, but it sounded so much more appealing than reading reports and signing paperwork.

  “Good morning, my lady Captain,” he said, lifting an arm in offering.

  Jev wanted to ask her what was on her mind, since her face held a pensive expression, but he would wait until they could find a moment alone. They’d been wedged into the carriage like stuffed gort leaves in a casserole dish, the interior extra cramped because of Cutter’s pack, which he’d refused to add to the luggage rack with the others. Jev had ridden down with his friend’s hammer jammed into his hip.

  Of course, Jev’s weapon might have been poking Cutter in the hip too. In a newly made scabbard, Jev wore the magical elven sword he’d acquired when battling one of the elf wardens that had come to town to assassinate his friend Lornysh. Master Grindmor had tinkered with the long blade, using her dwarven gem-working ability to alter the magic imbued in the sword, magic that usually would only respond to an elf. As a favor to her apprentice Cutter—she’d quickly and frequently pointed out that she was only doing it for his sake—she’d spent many hours with the blade, painstakingly making it so its command word would work for Jev, a mere human. He hadn’t expected to ever have access to the sword’s power, but he’d been delighted the first time he’d spoken its command word—the elven term for ice—and its silvery glow had sprung to life.

  Zenia touched Jev’s side, a fleeting smile crossing her face, then headed to the rack.

  Jev had been offering and hoping for a hug, but he lowered his arm, not that surprised that she wouldn’t jump into his embrace on a crowded boardwalk of friends and strangers. Jev was no longer engaged to another woman, so it wouldn’t be scandalous—other than for the fact that he was zyndar and she was not—but it wasn’t as if his father had condoned a marriage to Zenia, so she might not feel that much had changed.

  All she’d uttered was a single, “Ah” when he’d explained that the old man was still forbidding Jev from marrying a commoner. Jev had hurried to explain that he planned to propose to her, regardless, once their lives were calmer and he had a chance to arrange everything just right. But she’d seemed reserved rather than delighted. He chose to believe it had to do with the impending mission rather than reservations about him.

  “There are porters that can get that,” Jev said when she reached for one of her packs.

  As soon as the words came out, he realized she wouldn’t want to burden someone else with her belongings, so he rushed forward to grab her bags himself. He’d caught her washing her own laundry the other day, even though such domestic services were included with their rooms in Alderoth Castle, and wondered what the staff at Dharrow Castle would think of her after they married and she insisted on doing all her own chores. He hoped they would find her a refreshing change. His aunts and his father weren’t ones to overly burden the staff, but they also didn’t insist on clearing their own dishes at the dinner table.

  “I don’t mind carrying them,” Zenia said, a hand up. She seemed more startled than delighted by Jev rushing past to shoulder her bags.

  “It’s my desire to make your life easier, my intelligent and beautiful lady Captain,” Jev said, smiling and bowing.

  “I may vomit,” Rhi said.

  “He never used to say things like that in the army,” Cutter said.

  “Never,” Hydal agreed.

  “Because Zenia wasn’t there,” Jev said.

  A hint of pink warmed Zenia’s cheeks. Jev feared he was embarrassing her instead of tickling her with what were meant to be thoughtful courting gestures. He needed to work at this.

  “Maybe if you’d told Captain Krox such things,” Hydal said, “he wouldn’t have been so gruff all the time.”

  “He’s not intelligent or beautiful.” Jev headed toward the gangplank, hoping Zenia would walk beside him.

  “I can’t disagree with that,” Cutter said.

  Zenia hesitated, then caught up with Jev. He beamed a smile at her.

  “You seem very perky this morning,” she said. “Is it because you’re pleased to go on an adventure with me or that Sevy will be responsible for all your paperwork while we’re gone?”

  “Yes,” he said fervently.

  For the first time, she smiled. It warmed his heart.

  “I’m pleased you’re coming,” she said quietly. “I… You didn’t have to. This is my quest, my responsibility.”

  “As if I’d miss out on an opportunity to escape the office.” Jev wanted to hold her hand—it would have been difficult with his arms full of her bags, but he could have managed. He settled for nudging her shoulder gently with his.

  “The office you’ve spent three days in during your first thirty days at the job?”

  “They were arduous days.” That wasn’t exactly true, especially since Zenia had helped him keep all those reports tidily wrangled, but he felt ill-suited for desk work. Fieldwork appealed to him far more. Maybe one day he would suggest to Targyon that he make Zenia the sole captain and assign him to work for her. Though he supposed there were times it was useful for one of the Crown Agent captains to have zyndar in his name to throw around. “Also, I’m not sure you’ve been there that much more than I have.”

  “I’ve been there at least twice as much as you have.”

  “So, six days out of thirty?”

  “Maybe seven.” She smiled, a more genuine one than the distracted one from earlier, and bumped her shoulder against his.

  The return gesture delighted him.

  A man wearing a captain’s hat walked off the steamer as they were about to walk up the gangplank. “Zyndar Dharrow?”

  “That’s me.” Jev stopped, smirking when he noticed Hydal carrying his own bags and also Rhi’s.

  She whistled cheerfully as she walked at his side, her bo balanced on her shoulder. She’d added a rifle to her arsenal and carried it on a strap across her back, with a dagger and ammo pouch on a belt at her waist.

  Hydal’s face was red, and he hunched under the combined weight of all the bags. He was a wiry and strong man, but not a large one. Jev feared the load weighed as much as he did, and he regretted that the porters had focused only on his bags, especially since they hadn’t yet returned. Were they turning down the comforter on his bed and filling a jar with honeyed nuts?

  Rhi’s fingers twitched when Hydal paused to readjust his load, and she offered to take her bags. Hydal shook his red head and kept walking.

  “I’m Captain Yug.” The man stuck out his hand. “Are you in charge of the mission, Zyndar?”

  “Actually, this is Captain Cham’s mission.” Jev tilted his head toward Zenia. “I’m here to carry her bags.”

  The captain blinked and lowered his hand as he seemed to realize Jev would have to rearrange everything to grip it. “Er, is it Zyndari Captain Cham?”

  “No, it is not,” Zenia said firmly, her chin inching higher.

  Jev grinned, though he was fairly certain only he heard the hint of distaste in her voice.

  “We thank you for agreeing to take us to Izstara, Captain,” Zenia went on.

  “The king ordered it.” The captain stepped off the gangplank so Hydal could take his load of bags aboard. He looked curiously at Cutter and glanced at Rhi’s bo, an out-of-place weapon for someone not wearing one of the colored gis of the religious Orders.

  Jev decided the captain was confused by his odd group of passengers.

  “We’ve already thanked him,” Zenia said dryly, which was true.

  Jev remembered how surprised and effusive with her gratitude she had been when Targyon offered the use of one of his vessels. She’d already been planning a journey that included booking passage on multiple freighters and trade ships to ultimately reach their destination.

  “We’re relieved you’ll take us straight to Izstara,” Zenia added.

  “I’ve been ordered to do so, and I will, but I hope you know that Tika, one of the few cities there where humans aren’t shot on sight, is a dangerous place, even if
it supposedly fosters free trade among all the races.”

  “We’re aware it will be a dangerous trip,” Zenia said, “but we’re hoping the trouble won’t start until we disembark and that your ship won’t be at risk.”

  “I hope that too.” Captain Yug grimaced. “We’re supposed to wait there for you. I wasn’t told how long that will be. Do you know, by chance? We’ve loaded extra ordnance for the cannons, and there’s a rifle for every crew member, but…” He extended a hand, appearing helpless and concerned.

  Jev had never been to Tika or any other city in Izstara, so he couldn’t say the captain’s concerns were unfounded. But since they had run into hostile trolls right here at home, he was inclined to dismiss the stated dangers as nothing worse than he’d faced in the capital of late.

  “I’m not sure how long it will take.” Zenia glanced at Jev, but he could only shrug. “I wasn’t given the exact location of our destination, but I assure you, we won’t dawdle.”

  The captain’s grimace deepened as he no doubt imagined being stuck in a hostile harbor for weeks or months.

  “Don’t worry,” Jev said. “Zenia has powerful magic that will locate that which we seek.”

  The dragon tear on her chest flared a bright blue, startling Jev. The captain stepped back, lifting a hand defensively before he seemed to realize the gem wouldn’t do more than glow.

  Zenia wrapped her hand around it, and Jev could tell from the concerned look in her eyes that she hadn’t intended for it to create a display.

  “I see,” Yug said. “I’ve little choice, but I told the king’s messenger that this isn’t a good idea, especially when…”

  The captain frowned as two big men in sleeveless shirts with large muscular arms jogged up the pier, all manner of weapons on their belts jangling with each step. They stopped at the base of the gangplank and looked expectantly at Jev’s little group. One had long flowing black hair, and one was bald save for an inch-wide tuft of hair on his chin. Despite the differing hair styles, they had the same broad faces with flat noses and dark brown eyes.