Zenia gritted her teeth, reminding herself that she would only end up making trouble for both of them if she punched a zyndari woman—Targyon might not be able to look the other way if one of his agents did that. But the founders knew she wanted to.
A surge of indignation emanated from her dragon tear, and unease replaced Zenia’s anger. If the gem acted on her behalf…
She clasped a hand to her chest, willing it to be good. An instant later, flames appeared all around Dominqua.
Zenia’s unease turned to sheer terror. She sprinted to the woman, imagining they would have to heft her up and throw her in a bath to put the fire out.
But the flames disappeared as rapidly as they’d appeared, leaving Dominqua standing naked in front of them, her dress and shoes having turned into a pile of ashes at her feet.
She shrieked, nothing seductive this time as she pressed a hand to her breasts. She sprinted out of sight. A sense of smug contentment came from Zenia’s dragon tear.
Zenia slumped in relief, glad she’d somehow ended up with a soul more prone to practical jokes than death and destruction. Not for the first time, she wondered if her gem was truly linked to a dragon. None of the legends of dragons spoke of senses of humor.
“I wish it had done that before she looked through the door,” Jev said dryly, his own sense of humor returning.
“Me too.”
Zenia shook her head as she stared at the ashes, knowing a little magic wouldn’t keep the woman from tattling on Jev. As if his unpleasant father needed any more reasons to hate Zenia and want to keep her away from his son.
“I’m sorry I made more trouble for you, Jev. If we didn’t need to work together, I’d say we should completely avoid each other until…” She groped in the air with her hand, not sure how to articulate herself. Until after his engagement was called off? But what if it wasn’t called off and he was married?
“Absolutely not.” He stepped up behind her, wrapped an arm around her waist, and bent his head to rest his temple against hers. “And you have nothing to apologize for. I’m sorry I’m not some simple castle clerk that nobody would gain anything from by manipulating.”
She leaned back against him and closed her eyes. “Is it wrong for me to fantasize about that?”
“No, I’ve started to.” He kissed her temple. “I told my father I’d walk away from him and my position as his heir if he tried to force me to marry that girl. And I will. I want to be with you, Zenia, and I’m not going to let anyone tell me I can’t be.”
A rush of happiness went through her, but she tamped it down immediately. It was selfish of her to want him to give up his birthright. She knew he would be a good zyndar prime for his family and all the tenants on his land when the time came. And she knew he considered it his duty to be that person. If she asked him to give up his heritage, it would be like asking him to break a vow.
“Jev, I want to be with you, too, but I don’t want you to have to give up everything.”
“Too late. I already told him I would. You’ll still love me when I’m a simple castle clerk, right?”
“You don’t think Targyon will let you keep your Crown Agent job? If you were a clerk, you’d have to follow me around dutifully and hold my books.”
“I’d happily do that now.” He squeezed her waist and kissed her again. “Alas, my father didn’t disown me when I made the threat. A wishful part of me hoped he would. I got the impression he might be willing to deal, but like I told you, Zyndari Bludnor—Fremia’s mother—has a dragon tear. I’m almost positive she’s manipulating him. That may be why he agreed to the marriage in the first place, after he’d promised me I could at least have the summer to find someone.”
“But you said he agreed to meet with me, right?” Zenia shifted in his grip to face him.
“Yes. You don’t have to charm him. But if you and your dragon tear could check to see if some kind of spell is over him, I would appreciate it.”
“I could do that.”
“Good. Thank you.” He smiled at her.
The gesture took away some of the misery she felt over the night’s turn of events. If she wasn’t careful, she would end up wanting to kiss him again. She made herself pat his shoulder, not noticing its appealing nakedness, and step out of his grip.
“I came down here to share my research with you.” She glanced to where she’d dropped her notepad.
“Ah, of course. I actually brought Hydal here to ask him if he remembered anything about Vornzylar.”
“Did he?”
“A little, yes. He also overheard Zyndar Garlok talking to some other zyndar over drinks and sharing gossip about us like some teenage girl. It sounds like Garlok is behind some of the stories circulating about us.”
“I’m more concerned about Vornzylar right now.”
“So am I, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to punch Garlok.”
Angry raised voices drifted up the corridor from the direction of the baths. It sounded like Dominqua had found someone to rant to. Not Rhi, Zenia assumed. Rhi would have thumped her, with a bar of soap if her bo wasn’t close at hand.
“Maybe we should go to my room,” Jev said dryly.
The suggestion sounded innocent enough, but Zenia feared she would find reasons to be distracted again if they ended up sitting together on his bed. And she already worried what the backlash would be for this indiscretion. By the founders, she had finally found a man she cared for and could see marrying, and the world was determined to ensure it wasn’t a possibility. Unless he gave up everything. Her heart ached at the notion.
“How about the library?” she suggested.
Jev smiled a little sadly but said, “I’ll wash off and meet you up there.”
He jogged over, picked up her notepad, and brought it to her. The small thoughtful act made her want to kiss him again. She didn’t.
11
Jev scraped his fingers through his damp hair as he hurried into the library. He hadn’t wanted to keep Zenia waiting, but he also hadn’t wanted to plop down in one of Targyon’s padded leather chairs while sweaty and unwashed. And he thought he should smell good for Zenia, too, just in case she had the urge to lick his chest again. Founders, where would that have gone if that dreadful zyndari woman hadn’t shown up?
He wanted to solve the city’s new elf problem as quickly as possible, if only so he could set things straight with his father and get the freedom to date Zenia. One way or another.
It had crossed his mind that she might be able to use her dress-incinerating dragon tear to manipulate his father into changing his mind about her, but the idea impinged upon his sense of honor. He also couldn’t see her agreeing to it. She might not be zyndari, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have honor of her own that she held close. She had a lot more than many zyndari he’d met lately.
Zenia sat at a table near the door, her notepad and a thick book open. She’d chosen a public location rather than a private alcove. This late at night, the library was probably empty of other visitors, but it seemed a clear statement that she had work on her mind rather than anything else. Understandable, even if his chest was disappointed.
“Do you share first?” Jev sat in a chair beside her.
“Sure. As I said, I wasn’t able to find much about Vornzylar specifically—nothing, I’m afraid—but the Zsayon are mentioned so often that there’s a whole shelf devoted to them in the elven history section.”
“Did you read every book on the shelf?”
She snorted. “Not in three hours.”
“Half the books?”
“I may have skimmed half of them.”
“I thought so.” Jev smiled at her. “We had a lot of information on their current activities come through Gryphon Company but not much about historical stuff. They mostly seemed to stir up their people and incite them to attack our camps, but I’m not aware of them having stepped foot in Kor or the other human kingdoms during the war. I’m actually surprised this Vornzylar lured three oth
er wardens to his side, as the elite warriors of the Taziir have traditionally considered Zsayon methods less than honorable.” He stopped talking and extended his hand, remembering he’d invited her to go first.
Zenia nodded. “Most of the historical texts suggest they’ve acted behind the scenes rather than on the open stage. They were supposedly considering an infiltration of Kor ten years ago, which may have prompted King Aldor to preemptively start the war. Their mission seems to be to protect their forests and their people from the other intelligent races in the world. It’s not just humans. They’ve taken actions against ogres, trolls, and orcs too. Interestingly, they don’t seem to have worried about dwarves.”
“Maybe because dwarves largely keep to themselves and don’t start wars. They’re pleased enough to finish them, but they’re not expansionists. And they tend to claim land—underground land—that other races aren’t interested in. I think it’s against elven religious beliefs to live in caves, much less underground tunnels.”
“I have more notes on them, but I spent more time perusing some of the weaponry typical of elven wardens, so we would know what we’re up against.” Zenia pushed the open book over to him, revealing a diagram of a familiar sword, the one that had sprouted vines to grab him. A paragraph of description lay under the drawing. She flipped a few pages to show him other magical swords, including one that looked a lot like Lornysh’s, with flames appearing to leap from the blade. “The swords are typically the main and often only source of ancillary magic they carry. They’re gifts granted to the elves after they complete fifty years of training to become a warden.”
“Is that all? Such a short time.”
“They study swordsmanship, wildcraft, and magic during those years, and they’re not given swords and granted the title of warden unless they can pass tests on all three.”
Jev had heard of the extensive training before, so he merely nodded. “Any tips in there for how to defeat the swords?”
“A few dragon tears over the years have been powerful enough to permanently nullify the power in them.”
“Break them, essentially?”
“Destroy their magic. The blades themselves weren’t necessarily broken. Each one is created by a dwarven master and then infused with elven magic.”
Maybe that was why the Zsayon had never picked on dwarves. Elves and dwarves had been allies for so long that it would be foolish to do so. Had either of those races had the expansionist tendencies of humans, they could have worked together to take over the entire world millennia ago.
“Do you think your dragon tear can break them?” Jev had never met anyone with a more powerful gem.
“Possibly? It sounds like it takes an hour of intense and uninterrupted focus to do so.” She pointed to text on a page that showed a sword and an oval gem. “So, you’d have to disarm the elf and then steal the sword away for me so I could spend some quality time with it.”
“I would?” Jev touched his chest.
“You’ve built a rapport with the wardens. You could slip in close.”
“They tried to kill me. That’s not as rapport-building as you would think.”
She smiled, but only briefly before frowning thoughtfully at the page.
“I’ll do my best to steal this Vornzylar’s sword so you can tote it off to your room to commune with it. Violently.” Jev ran his fingers over the sword in the picture. “Though it would be a shame to break such beautiful weapons. I suppose there’s no chance any humans have successfully wielded them?”
“There was a chapter early on about that. A prince of Kor managed to acquire one in noble battle once—I read between the lines that he stole it—and it lay dormant for him. Apparently, humans can use them as regular swords, but the magic won’t come to life for us. It’s tied to elven blood, which is inherently magical.” Her eyebrow twitched.
He didn’t know if that signified skepticism or envy. Or distaste.
“Here’s what Hydal remembered about Vornzylar.” Jev withdrew a folded paper with sweat stains on it. He and Hydal had decided to spar in the gym while they spoke since Zyndar Garlok had been in the Crown Agents office, and Jev didn’t want the man knowing Hydal was working for them now. Just in case Garlok was doing worse than gossiping about Jev. Who knew if he was feeding important information to some outside source?
“Sorry my notes aren’t as neat as yours.” He pressed the paper on the table, doing his best to smooth it so it lay flat. “At first, I wasn’t going to write anything down, since my memory is as powerful as those elven blades. Then I realized I was asking Hydal for information because I’d forgotten it, and I grabbed the closest pen and paper I could find.”
Zenia turned the page over and saw a gymnasium equipment repair diagram on the back. “I see.” She scrutinized Jev’s notes on the front. “He’s only been prominent in the Zsayon faction for five years?”
“As far as Hydal learned from our intelligence operatives. Vornzylar was on a mission on Taziira’s northern shoreline, defending the villages up there from frost orcs, and making quite a name for himself as a warrior of renown. Then some family matter drew him back to their capital. Shortly after, he joined the faction and soon became one of their leaders. Interestingly, and I remembered this after Hydal brought it up, an assassin tried to get to Lornysh about a year ago when he was in our camp. Someone reported seeing a glowing white sword—Vornzylar has a magical ice blade—so it’s possible he was the would-be assassin. Of course, Lornysh was tight-lipped about everything. As usual.”
“Is he just a private person or is he ashamed about something in his past?” Zenia asked.
“More bitter than ashamed is the sense I’ve always gotten.”
“Hm.” Did she disagree?
“Have you ever tried to read him with your dragon tear?” Jev asked.
“No. I haven’t spoken directly to him that many times.” Zenia tapped her chin thoughtfully. “A glowing white sword like one of the elves we faced in the tower had? Was that Vornzylar?”
“Neither of them introduced themselves.”
“Rude.”
“I thought so.”
A breeze touched Jev’s cheek, and he frowned and looked around. Maybe someone had left a window open.
The shadows stirred down a dark aisle, and Jev sprang to his feet, reaching for a weapon that wasn’t at his waist.
“It’s me,” came a soft voice in elven.
“Lornysh?”
He walked out of the shadows, his hood down and his silver hair spilling around his shoulders and his backpack. He carried his blade, his bow and quiver of arrows, and everything he’d brought with him after the war.
“You’re leaving,” Jev said with certainty. He couldn’t be surprised. Maybe he ought to simply be pleased Lornysh had come to say goodbye. He must not have wanted to earlier with the other elves watching.
“Yes.” Lornysh stopped and looked at Zenia.
She was still sitting at the table, but she gazed back at him, not looking like she intended to leave. Jev didn’t want to have to ask her to, but if Lornysh wanted to speak in private…
“If I tell you something in Elvish, will you simply tell her everything later?” Lornysh asked.
“It depends on if it has something to do with her or our case.” Jev rested a hand on Zenia’s shoulder, not wanting her to feel uncomfortable that they were talking about her, though he wasn’t sure how to include her.
“Your case.” Lornysh sighed and closed his eyes. “That is what I wish to warn you about before I go. It is my hope that Vornzylar will leave you and Princess Yesleva and all other elves in the city alone after I go, but it’s possible he won’t. He seems particularly upset that the Taziir king is making this overture toward Kor. Given all that’s happened between our two peoples, it does seem premature.”
“Maybe your king sees Targyon as a more reasonable ruler than Abdor and hopes he can avoid further hostilities with humanity by forging a peace with him.”
“Per
haps.” Lornysh looked toward the double doors of the library.
Zenia and Jev had left them open. A breeze stirred again, and the doors closed with soft thumps.
“Have you spoken to this Vornzylar?” Jev thought it sounded like Lornysh had.
“I’ve done my best to avoid him since I can’t kill him.”
“Care to explain that? I’ve never noticed you hesitating to kill people who try to kill you.”
“It is difficult to explain him without explaining everything.” Lornysh smiled sadly.
“Which you won’t do?” Jev had asked a few times over the years about why his friend had left his people, but Lornysh had always refused to answer or pretended he hadn’t heard the question.
Lornysh clasped his hands behind his back. “It has nothing to do with you or your people. He—”
He spun toward the far wall of the library, squinting in the direction he had come from.
Jev frowned, turning an ear that way to listen, but he knew Lornysh had superior hearing. He glanced at Zenia, wondering if she had detected anything. She touched her dragon tear and closed her eyes. Asking it, perhaps.
“I heard—” Lornysh started, but then he grabbed his chest and gasped.
Startled, Jev reached for him.
Lornysh’s knees buckled, and he dropped to the tile floor, his face contorting with pain. Jev gripped his shoulder, alternately glancing at his friend and at the shadows in the aisles. Nothing stirred except for that faint breeze from the window Lornysh must have left open. Or had he left it open?
Zenia’s chair scraped on the tiles as she stood. Her eyebrows drew together in puzzlement.
“What is it, Lornysh?” Jev whispered. “Some kind of magical assault?” He had a hard time believing his hale elven friend was having a heart attack.
Lornysh nodded his head jerkily. “Get out of here,” he gasped. “He only wants me. Don’t… put yourself… risk.”
“Well, he doesn’t get you.” Jev released Lornysh and looked at Zenia again. “Can you detect someone using magic? Tell if Lornysh’s attacker is in here?”
Agents of the Crown- The Complete Series Page 99
