Jev considered who he might finagle into going to rat races with him besides Zenia. He nodded slowly as a name came to mind. “Yes.”
Sevy arched her eyebrows.
“Who?” Wyleria mouthed.
“Hydal,” Jev said and smiled at Rhi. “Maybe he’ll even bring a date.”
“Uh.” Rhi flagged down the waitress. “I need another drink. A large one.”
“Zyndar and Zyndari Dharrow,” Borti said, sticking out his hand. “I accept your offer.”
“Excellent.” Wyleria clasped his hand.
Jev wasn’t sure excellent was the word that came to his mind, but he also clasped Borti’s hand, feeling he’d done the right thing for him. “I look forward to witnessing your first race,” he said honestly.
“You’ll love it. And wait until you see how well the albino I brought back from the king’s steamer is doing. She’s gone into heat and is ready to be bred. I can’t wait to see how the kittens come out.”
“Kittens?” Sevy asked. “Is that the correct term?”
“Kittens or pups for baby rats, yes,” Borti said. “Did you know a group of rats is called a mischief?”
His eyes twinkled, so Jev had no idea if he was telling the truth.
Wyleria met his eyes. “This new business is going to be educational. I can already tell.”
As the sun sank toward the horizon, Zenia wiped her damp palms on her dress, nervous because she knew the trumpeters would come out any minute to announce the start of the ceremony. It had been scheduled for earlier in the day, but the midsummer heat had ensured attendees arrived late, their horses setting languid paces as they drew the carriages up the hill to Alderoth Castle. The steam-powered carriages were less inclined to wilt in the heat, but the men tossing coal into the furnaces also hadn’t been moving quickly. It seemed a shame the sun itself couldn’t be used to turn the wheels on such a day.
A shadow appeared behind her, and a warm calloused hand clasped hers. “Are you nervous or simply warm?” Jev murmured over her shoulder.
“Both.” Zenia smiled at him and glanced overhead at the awning stretched over the buffet area, sharing shade with those browsing for drinks and snacks. It helped, but it was definitely still hot.
She empathized with the poor servers, sweat beading on their brows, as they dashed in and out of the castle repeatedly, bringing ice for the beverages and to keep the various crudités cool. Even though Jev had explained his family’s icehouse to her, it boggled her mind to see the glistening frozen shards of water on display in this heat.
“All you have to do is walk up the center aisle there, curtsey for Targyon, and bow your head so he can give you your medal. And make an announcement.” Jev winked.
“Announcement?”
“You’ll see.”
“You know something I don’t?” Zenia asked. “That’s distressing.”
A group of older men in their zyndar family uniforms walked under the awning, grousing about the good old days and how the city would have been improved vastly if the dragon had knocked over some of the new construction while she had been flying about. Jev’s father was in the group, and Zenia realized his colleagues were all zyndar primes.
Her stomach fluttered as these new reasons to be nervous headed for the beer and mead kegs. Why were they all here? Why was he here?
Zenia had seen enough of Jev’s father in the last couple of months to last her for a year. Or forever. She didn’t know why the zyndar class would have been invited to the award ceremony, since it didn’t sound like they had played much of a role in defending the city, having gathered their forces too late to assist. She especially didn’t know why those old bread crusts would have wanted to come see watchmen and soldiers recognized unless it was typical for them to show up for all ceremonies. Maybe they liked the free alcohol.
“It’s rare for me to know more than you do. Let me relish the moment.” Jev slipped his arms around her from behind and kissed her cheek.
Zenia was encouraged that he was so publicly displaying his affection for her, especially with his grouchy old man looking on, but she wondered if it was wise. Now that they were back in town, the gossip would doubtless start up again. Alas. She wanted to simply let her head fall back onto Jev’s shoulder and enjoy being in his arms.
“I admit, I’m not certain if you’ll like the announcement,” he added. “Targyon is positive you will. I’m less sure.”
“You’re piquing my curiosity terribly.”
“I hope to pique other things later.” He rubbed his freshly shaven jaw against her cheek.
His father walked past and glared at them. Zenia was torn between glaring defiantly back at him and pretending she didn’t see him.
“Greetings, you two,” Wyleria said, stepping in from the side.
She wore a magnificent pale green dress with lacy frills that looked good on her instead of insipid, as Zenia was sure they would have on any of Targyon’s brothers’ wives. Wyleria planted herself between Zenia and Jev’s father, turning her back on him to face Jev and Zenia while effectively blocking his glare. Zenia was certain the placement was precise and intentional, and she smiled warmly at Wyleria.
“It’s so good to have you back in the city. And to have your dragon tear and your dragon reunited.” Wyleria glanced at the oval gem resting prominently on Zenia’s dress. It glowed a contented blue.
Zenia wasn’t sure where the dragon was but hadn’t heard anyone scream, so assumed she might have flown off to the mountains or some distant rural area. Zenia hoped the various tenants of the land the dragon flew over weren’t alarmed by her presence in the skies. After word spread throughout the kingdom about her tremendous and pivotal assistance in defending the capital, everyone ought to recognize her and treat her like a hero, but who knew if that would be true? People were odd, and dragons were a terrifying sight.
“Thank you, Wyleria,” Zenia said as Jev leaned forward and patted his cousin on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you,” she added. “How did you get on while we were gone?”
“Not badly. Didn’t Jev tell you? I applied to the king to become one of your Crown Agents, and since you two were out of the office, Targyon accepted my offer personally, saying it would be a good idea to have more female agents to balance things out. I think he just wants more people closer to his age around.” She winked. “I had some work to finish at Dharrow Castle, but I’ll report in to you next week.”
“Ah, that’s excellent news.” Zenia was surprised nobody had mentioned it that morning when she’d gone in to do paperwork, but she’d been so busy working through it all that she might have appeared unapproachable to her agents. Fortunately, the dozens—hundreds?—of reports had been well-organized, thanks to Sevy’s secretarial work.
“Would your sudden interest in serving the Crown have anything to do with our new secretary?” Jev asked.
“Certainly not, Jev. I am zyndari. I was born to serve the Crown.”
“So, we won’t find you two snogging in the closet later?”
Zenia elbowed Jev as Wyleria said, “Certainly not!”
“I don’t think that closet is big enough for that,” Zenia said.
“Are you sure? Maybe we should check out the size later. Together.”
“You’re randy today,” Zenia said.
“Ceremonies where the woman I love gets awards make me happy.” He was beaming.
Simply because she would get some medal in front of everyone? Zenia doubted it would change anything as far as castle and town gossip went. She would still be the common woman trying to ensnare a zyndar for her own gain. She sighed and leaned back against Jev.
“My mother has agreed to postpone the hunt for a spouse for me,” Wyleria said.
“Oh?” Jev asked. “What changed her mind?”
“Zyndar Dogroth groped me at a get-together at his family’s castle last week, and I kneed him in the groin with great force. I was alarmed and afraid, you see, because he’d cornered me outside of the lav
and there was nobody else around.”
“That’s horrible.” Zenia gaped at her, hardly believing Wyleria was recounting this so calmly. If anything, she looked pleased.
“He certainly thought so,” Wyleria said. “He had to visit a healer for a, ah, I believe the term was retrieval operation. To bring something back out of hiding. My mother sent him flowers, but he’s been spreading the news of the incident around town, and it seems the entire population of eligible zyndar bachelors now considers me savage and completely unbalanced.”
“I’ve never seen a zyndari woman—or any woman—appear so delighted at reporting such news,” Jev said.
Wyleria spread her hands. “My mother has decided that we had better wait at least a year for the memory of the incident to fade from men’s minds. It’s not a permanent solution—and I’m still forbidden from bringing Sevy to the castle—but at least it will buy me a year to come up with something else.”
“In the meantime, you’ll see her every day at work?” Zenia asked.
“Yes, won’t that be convenient? I’m thinking of leasing an apartment here in the city as well or seeing if there’s room on one of the floors in the family townhouse.”
“The appeal of privacy can’t be overstated,” Zenia said.
“A townhouse sounds better than a closet,” Jev said.
“I should think so. Though perhaps I will have Sevy run a volume equation on that closet. She’s quite good at math.”
The trumpeters blew a series of notes, and Zenia’s nerves, which had settled while talking to Wyleria, returned to a fully agitated state. As guests headed for the rows of benches to either side of the courtyard’s main aisle, Zenia wished Jev could walk up with her to receive the medal. She felt certain there would be fewer baleful glares leveled in her direction if she had him as a shield. Though his presence might give all the young and unattached women in the crowd a different reason to glare.
As Zenia left Jev’s side and headed to the spot where the award recipients were supposed to gather, she noticed Fremia and her loathsome friend from the shopping district. They were both sneering in her direction. Just because Zenia had ridden the dragon that had saved the city was no reason they should feel compelled to be nice to her…
“This changes nothing, common girl,” came a woman’s whisper from a back bench as Zenia took her place next to a couple of wounded soldiers, one on crutches and one with his arm in a sling and a bandage around his head.
Zenia recognized Zyndari Dominqua, the woman who’d embarrassed her about her mismatched shoes in the courtyard—and who hadn’t believed Targyon deserved the throne. It appeared that all the zyndari that Zenia disliked were here today. How delightful.
The trumpeters blew another chain of notes, and Targyon walked out, followed by a pair of bodyguards almost as well dressed as he was. He wore layers of royal blue, purple, and gold with an elegant gold and sapphire crown adorning his head. He had grown a beard and mustache this summer, both neatly trimmed today, and he appeared far older—far more mature—than the young man who’d wandered around in his socks while worrying about what gift would be appropriate for an elven princess.
The city’s four archmages stood to either side of the ceremonial dais, along with twelve more from temples outside of the capital. Sazshen was among them, her blue robe impeccably pressed. She didn’t sneer at Zenia, but her expression was aloof. She probably resented that the city and the religious orders had needed the assistance of outsiders. One scaled outsider, in particular.
Rhi sat up front next to Hydal, her arm hooked over the back of the bench as she looked at Zenia. She gave an encouraging dragon-thumb sign. Wyleria and Sevy were on the bench, and they also glanced back and shared nods of encouragement.
Zenia felt bolstered to know she had some new friends, even if her old acquaintances had rejected her, and when she met Jev’s eyes—he also had an arm hooked over the bench and was gazing back at her—she lifted her chin, deciding it didn’t matter what all these other people thought. The friends she had were more than enough. He was more than enough.
One at a time, Targyon’s herald called up the soldiers and other heroes that had been crucial in defending the city. Almost all of them were injured or recovering from injuries, and Zenia felt like a fraud for standing here, waiting her turn to be recognized. She hadn’t been hurt. All she’d done was ride a dragon into battle—the dragon had done all of the work. Too bad nobody had thought to offer her a medal.
Not that she would have shown up for the ceremony, necessarily. She seemed to prefer flying around in rural areas and was especially fond of the mountains. A nice cave in a cliff up there was what she needed. Too bad Zenia couldn’t provide that for her. Maybe Targyon had some royal land up there that he could set aside for her use.
“Captain Zenia Cham,” the herald called, his voice ringing clearly through the courtyard.
Zenia was the last one to be called, and she felt self-conscious as she walked up the aisle. All the other awardees had received their medals and were now seated, leaving everyone’s eyes upon her. She made herself lift her chin, and she looked at Targyon instead of to either side, except when she passed Jev. She couldn’t keep from glancing at him.
He grinned, his eyes still twinkling, reminding her that he knew something she didn’t. She couldn’t imagine what.
“Captain Cham,” Targyon said with a grave formality she wouldn’t have guessed he could muster. “I am pleased that you have so frequently proven that I was wise to appoint you to my Crown Agents. I must thank you, on behalf of Korvann and all of Kor, for finding such a powerful ally to come to our aid this week.”
To Zenia’s surprise, Targyon bowed deeply.
“We all thank you,” he added, then looked sternly around the gathering, his gaze lingering on the clump of women sitting around Dominqua.
A few people merely looked bewildered by his intent perusal—the zyndari, for the most part—but others in the audience bowed their heads, and dozens of murmured expressions of gratitude jumbled together.
“You’re welcome, Your Majesty,” Zenia said, though she still felt she hadn’t done much to deserve all this attention.
“I have an award for you.” Targyon waved, and a page stepped forward with a gold medal on a cushion, similar to the ones the others had received.
Zenia bowed her head while he placed it around her neck. It clacked against her dragon tear, its heft surprising her. The gold gleamed in the setting sun, but the dragon tear flared a brilliant blue, as if to make sure nobody would doubt that it was the superior pendant.
Targyon snorted softly, noticing.
Zenia leaned back, prepared to be dismissed as the others had been, but Targyon held a hand up. His herald came closer, unfurling a scroll.
“I also have a second honor to bestow on you,” Targyon said. “Though there are some in the crowd who aren’t certain this is as much of an honor as it seems.” His eyebrow twitched as he looked toward Jev.
Jev still had an arm slung comfortably over the bench, and he didn’t look chagrined or embarrassed in the least to have his monarch single him out.
The herald cleared his throat. “Zenia Cham, daughter of Sverola Cham and Veran Morningfar…” Several murmurs of surprise came from the audience at the second name.
Zenia forced her face to remain neutral, though she didn’t want to be associated with Morningfar and couldn’t guess how Targyon or his people had even found out about the relation. Or the name of her mother. Someone must have gone through the records in the Water Order Temple.
“It is His Majesty’s honor to award you a prize that has not been awarded in the kingdom for more than two hundred years,” the herald continued. “You and all your descendants are hereby granted the status of zyndar and all the rights, privileges, and expectations that come with the position.”
Zenia’s jaw dropped to her feet. Or at least to her dragon tear.
“You will receive land to be outlined in an official d
eed for which you will heretofore be responsible. It will be for you and your descendants to maintain, build upon, farm, log, or otherwise care for in accordance with kingdom needs. Should you establish a stronghold suitable for the defense of said land, you will have the right to invite commoners to live as tenants under your protection.” The herald lowered the scroll.
Still stunned, Zenia didn’t know what to say. Or if she was supposed to say anything. After being shunned her whole life by the nobility, she never would have asked for this honor, and it crossed her mind now to reject it.
“It’s in the mountains,” Targyon whispered, his solemn expression disappearing as he cracked a grin. “With lots of caves in it.”
It took her a second to realize what he was implying.
“Such as for a dragon?” she asked quietly.
“She can shop around and see if she likes any of them.” He winked. “The land is about fifty miles from the capital, so not that close, but I should think she could cover that ground in a half hour. It’s not a lot of land, mind you, and there’s little more than sheep and goats up there, but it’s possible there is ore that would be worth mining. If you have a mind to.” Targyon twitched a shoulder. “I was actually surprised to find any land left to grant. I’d assumed everything was taken, but when Jev mentioned that giving you this position might solve a problem for him, I went looking to see what was available.”
Jev had asked for this? Was she receiving this status as a favor to him?
“I wasn’t truly planning to go along with his suggestion, mind you,” Targyon continued, perhaps catching her glance at Jev, “not simply to help him with his marriage problem, but then you flew into the city on a dragon.” He beamed at her, like a kid excited by some magnificent story being told by a grownup. “And your timing was impeccable. We really do owe you. You’ve already done such good work for the kingdom, and you’ve only just begun. I realized you truly are the stuff of nobility—maybe far more than some of the current nobility are…” Targyon didn’t look at anyone in particular. Rather he glanced heavenward, as if longing for help from the founders. “And being zyndari in your own right would make your job easier, I’m certain. Especially if, someday, Jev has to leave the agents to run his estate. Further, I did some reading last night while I was pondering this, and it seems it’s extremely rare for a dragon to bond with a human. That she came back with you to fight as a favor to you is amazing. A dragon wouldn’t choose someone who wasn’t worthy of zyndar status—and more. So… officially…”
Dragon Tear (Agents of the Crown Book 5) Page 27
