Elven Fury (Agents of the Crown Book 4)

by Lindsay Buroker

  “So you approved?”

  Jev couldn’t be surprised things had gone the way they had, and he hadn’t minded punching that blowhard, but it would have been better if Morningfar had been willing to acknowledge Zenia. It wasn’t as if it would have cost the curmudgeon anything. There weren’t many precedents for women inheriting zyndar land and wealth, and none where daughters born to common mothers were involved. Zenia never would have wanted anything from him. She might have refused his name even if he’d offered. This had been a waste of time.

  “I approved of you punching that orc-butt-licker. And I was pleased to try out my hammer on more than metal. I barely tossed it, and I think it cracked his kneecap. I heard a satisfying crunch, at the least.”

  “I’m glad you’re on my side, Cutter.”

  “Dwarves make excellent friends.” Cutter punched him in the arm.

  It jarred his injured ribs and almost knocked him over, but Jev made himself respond with an agreeable, “Yes.”

  Zenia knelt in the corner of her room where she kept her small prayer rug, candles, and a statue of the Blue Dragon, trying to meditate. She longed to clear her mind of conscious thought and let her battered body relax.

  She hadn’t been hurled around the elven tower the way Jev had, but she’d been a conduit for the magical battle her dragon tear had fought against that creature. A shadow golem, Jev had called it. Zenia had seen rock golems before and knew there were other kinds of them in the world, but she had never seen anything like the strange shadowy entity. She was glad her dragon tear had known how to battle it, because she hadn’t had a clue. The golem hadn’t seemed to exist fully in this world, but it hadn’t had any trouble throwing Jev around.

  Onjiwa, she said silently, the mantra she’d been taught long ago at the temple by a monk instructing her in the ways of meditation. Onjiwa, onjiwa, onjiwa…

  Every time her mind wandered, she brought it back to the mantra, three syllables that had no meaning, that merely existed to break up conscious thought, to let her mind relax. She was even burning pine and myrtle incense tonight to fill the air with calming scents. It wasn’t the kind of incense the Temple mages used to encourage visions. She didn’t want visions. And she especially didn’t want nightmares. That was why she was attempting to relax her mind, in the hope that she might sleep well tonight. It had been so long since she had.

  A soft knock sounded at the door.

  Zenia sighed, opening her eyes to the dragon figurine resting on her makeshift altar, and debated ignoring whoever was out there. But it might be Jev. Maybe he’d heard something about Lornysh and needed her assistance.

  She pushed herself to her bare feet and padded across the sheepskin rug to the door. Rhi stood in the hallway, nibbling on her knuckle. She wore the same clothing as she had in the office earlier in the day and didn’t appear to have gone home at any point.

  Rhi sniffed the pungent evergreen scents wafting out of the room. “Oh, sorry. Are you meditating? I can wait and talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Is something wrong?” Zenia asked.

  “No.” Rhi lowered her hand. “I’m just not sure how to respond to something and if there could be ramifications if I make the wrong response.”

  Zenia waved for her to come in. “What is it?”

  “You know that friend of Jev’s? Zyndar Hydal?”

  “I met him for the first time this morning.”

  “Me too. But I’ve already met him again. And he gave me a book.”

  “A book?” Zenia had been more interested in recruiting Sevy than in chatting with her older cousin, especially since the topic had been women vying for Jev’s attention, so she hadn’t noticed much about the man, except that he had a bookish mien.

  “On the history of the Water Order and the Blue Dragon. He said it had been on his shelf for ages, and that nobody in his family had been interested in it, so he thought I would like it.”

  “Maybe you should let him know your preferences lean toward murder mysteries and those stories about the dragon who longs to be human and helps an inquisitor solve crimes all throughout the kingdom.”

  “I read those as a girl.”

  “The whole collection was on the shelf in your room in the temple,” Zenia pointed out.

  “Because I enjoyed them as a girl.”

  “Including two volumes signed by the author.”

  Rhi propped her fists on her hips. “When did you root through my bookshelf?”

  “When you were first assigned to work with me. I snooped. I’d seen you around the temple, and you seemed brutish and surly, so I had concerns.”

  “Did the presence of books on my shelf alleviate them? It’s a shame there’s that rule about no locks on doors in the temple.”

  “It did,” Zenia said, amused that Rhi was more distressed at the idea of someone looking at her bookshelf than of thinking her brutish and surly. “I figured I could work with someone with whimsical tastes.”

  “They’re not whimsical. They’re normal. Listen, I have a question about Hydal. I think he wants to ask me on a date. You know where I ran into him? At the little eating house down the street from the farmhouse where I stay. He acted like it was a coincidence, but why would he have been carrying that book around if he hadn’t expected to see me? And what was a zyndar doing in that part of town? It’s a poor neighborhood.”

  “It sounded like their family isn’t wealthy, but I concede your point about the book. Perhaps he wanted to bring it to you at the castle but, since he’s supposed to be a secret informant, figured he shouldn’t come up here twice in the same day.”

  “So instead, he found out where I live and hung out in an alley until I went out for dinner? Zenia, that’s disturbing.”

  “Maybe he was going to go to your room, but you left and went to the eating house first.”

  “I fail to see how that’s a vast improvement. Zenia, I don’t want to date him. He’s skinny and wears those goofy spectacles. You know I like a man with muscles and an ass you can grab when you’re riding him like a stallion.”

  “Er.” Zenia rubbed her face, trying to vanquish the image Rhi’s words conjured.

  Rhi didn’t look apologetic for her sexual outburst. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what I mean. Jev has a nice ass.”

  Zenia rubbed her face again, in part because she felt the need, and in part to hide the rush of heat reddening her cheeks. “If he asks, can’t you just say no? I’ve seen you turn down men before.”

  With Jev—and his anatomy—now on her mind, Zenia thought of the way he’d introduced Hydal to Rhi that morning. It had been awkward. Had he been trying to set them up? Jev was the last person Zenia would have expected to play matchmaker.

  “Not zyndar men.” Rhi walked in and sat on the edge of the bed. “Zyndar don’t ask me out. They always want big-breasted vapid young things that will bat their eyelashes and make pouty faces with their kiss-me-now lips. Those are the kinds of women they take as mistresses.”

  “That seems like an overly generalized generalization, but even if it’s true, I’m not sure how that changes anything. If he asks you to dinner, and you’re not interested, just say no.”

  “Can I? Or will there be ramifications if I do? Commoners aren’t supposed to turn down requests from zyndar for anything, you know.”

  “I don’t think that extends to sex,” Zenia said, surprised Rhi would worry about obeying such societal norms, even if they existed. “Not in this century. In the past… Well, thankfully we don’t live in such ridiculously unfree times.” She thought of Jev’s arranged marriage and debated if the times were truly as free as she would like. An improvement over the past, perhaps, but… no.

  “But he’s Jev’s friend, and I got the impression— Was Jev trying to get me to go out with Hydal?” Rhi frowned. “You don’t think he promised Hydal a date in exchange for becoming a spy, do you?”

  “I don’t think Jev would presume to do that. Maybe he promised an introduction, but that shouldn’t
obligate you to anything.”

  Rhi grunted dubiously. “I don’t know. Zyndar all know each other and all do favors for each other. I wouldn’t want to lose this job because Jev got irked with me for not sleeping with his friend.”

  “That won’t happen.”

  “Since I left Archmage Sazshen with cross words, my options are limited.”

  “Your job is safe, Rhi. But why did you throw cross words at her before leaving? The temple archmages aren’t the best people to irk.”

  “I was defending someone who wasn’t there to defend herself,” Rhi grumbled, looking toward the sheepskin instead of Zenia.

  “Oh. Thank you.” Zenia walked over and patted her on the shoulder. “Just say no to Hydal if he asks you on a date and you’re not interested. But maybe you shouldn’t reject him based on his spectacles and backside. Weren’t you telling me that you’ve been finding sex with random partners boring? Perhaps you would enjoy spending time with a man with some substance, not just some muscled pretty boy from the gymnasium.”

  Rhi curled her lip. “He looked up where I live and found me. That’s intrusive.”

  “He looked up where you live to give you a gift he thought you might like based on what he learned about you. Don’t you think that promises he would be attentive in a relationship?”

  “It promises he’s desperate.”

  “Or smitten.” Zenia thought of Targyon’s interest in the elven princess. Smittenness was going around.

  “How can he be smitten? He just met me.”

  “Maybe he liked the way you wielded your bo.”

  Rhi’s expression switched to one of exasperation.

  Zenia had nothing invested in seeing them together, so merely spread her hands. “If you don’t want to give him a try, I’m sure he can handle your rejection. There won’t be ramifications from Jev or anyone else in the office.”

  This time, Rhi rubbed her face. “All right. Good. Thank you.” She stood up. “I’ll let you get back to your meditation.”

  “For what good it’s doing,” Zenia muttered, the words more for herself than Rhi.

  But Rhi heard them and looked back, frowning. “Is everything all right with you? You seem tired every morning in the office. I would have assumed your weariness was due to riding the Dharrow stallion all night if you were also smiling and happy with life, but you’ve mostly been grumpy.”

  “I’m fine.” Zenia couldn’t help but glance toward the bedside table. She’d removed the dragon tear when she had changed into her nightgown, and it lay on the wood, the silver-and-gold chain in a spiral around it.

  Rhi followed her gaze to the gem. “You sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “So, you’ll come into the office perky and well-rested in the morning?”

  “I’ll try.” A part of her wanted to confide in Rhi, but she’d already confided in Jev, and it hadn’t done any good. But Rhi truly looked concerned, so she admitted, “I’ve been having some bad dreams and not sleeping well since I got the dragon tear. It’s a fair tradeoff, since it’s helped us out of some tight situations—we couldn’t have gotten those magically slumbering dwarves off their ship before it blew up without it.”

  “I’ve never heard of a dragon tear giving someone nightmares.”

  “This one is special.” She smiled, meaning it as a joke, even if it was true.

  “Yeah, I’ve noticed that. It’s a good thing the king gave it to you and not Zyndar Garlok or some other twit in the office. You can handle it.”

  Even if Zenia hadn’t intended to confide in Rhi, she found herself cheered by this simple statement of faith. “Thank you. And you can handle Hydal.” She smiled.

  “I would be a lot more interested in handling him if he had an ass.”

  “It must be difficult being a slim man.”

  “Scrawny. I don’t believe Jev’s claim that he has hidden ferocity.”

  “At least he brought you a book,” Zenia said. “That suggests he’s literate.”

  Rhi squinted at her. “I don’t think we have the same requirements when it comes to men.”

  “That’s very possible.”

  Rhi opened the door. “I’ll bid you goodnight. Try rubbing your dragon tear before you go to bed. Maybe a massage will make it less likely to inflict dreams on you.”

  “I’ll keep the suggestion in mind.” Zenia waved as her friend shut the door, then went to the nightstand, picked up the dragon tear, and sat cross-legged on the bed. She didn’t rub it, but she did hold it and gaze at the dragon carved into the front of the gem.

  A feeling emanated from it. Sorrow? Lament? An apology?

  Could it know it was causing her nightmares? If so, she believed the sharing was inadvertent. Despite Cutter’s warnings that having a gem linked to a dragon, if that was indeed what had happened here, was dangerous, this soul had only tried to be helpful thus far. Not always in the most socially correct manner, but one could hardly fault a dragon for not knowing what was appropriate among humans.

  “Thank you for the help with the golems today,” Zenia whispered, touching her thumb to one of the carving’s wings.

  Even though she had come to dread bedtime, she didn’t want the entity linked to the gem to feel bad. If dragons could feel. She definitely sensed that this one did. She wondered if it lived and breathed somewhere in the world or if it had died long ago and some portion of its soul had been embedded in the gem. Maybe it had even died in that cave she kept dreaming of. Was it possible she’d been reliving the dragon’s last hours?

  The gem grew warm in her palm, and she sensed that mournful sorrow within it again. She wished she could help, but it didn’t speak to her, didn’t give her any clues as to how she might ease its pain.

  A few days earlier, Zenia had looked up dragon tears in the castle library, hoping to find information on the specific one she had—if it had been linked to a king of old, as Targyon had said when he gave it to her, it might have been written about in a journal. But she’d only found general information with few drawings of individual gems.

  Would the elven princess have any knowledge of it? Zenia hadn’t been in her presence since her return, but she’d heard Targyon had given her and her retinue suites in the castle. Zenia wouldn’t presume to knock on her door to ask, but Yesleva had known all about the Eye of Truth, and elves had once been the keepers of dragon tears.

  “I’ll find out a way to ask her,” she murmured.

  A twinge of uncertainty emanated from the gem.

  Zenia frowned. Because it knew something about the princess that she didn’t? Or did it not want an outsider prying into its background?

  She noticed the envelope on her dresser, the one with the avoid-the-elf note inside. Could the princess be the elf it was warning her about? Was it odd that Yesleva had shown up at the same time as these elven wardens?

  When the note had first come, Zenia had thought it applied to Lornysh, since he was the only elf in the city she knew, but now she wondered.

  “Maybe we’ll do a little research tomorrow,” she murmured.

  This time, the gem seemed contented. Or was it all in her mind?

  7

  Jev borrowed one of Targyon’s steam carriages and a driver for the trip out to Dharrow Castle, hoping his bruised body might find a cushioned seat more comfortable than a saddle. The highway was as smooth as Targyon’s chef’s cucumber dip, but the rutted road leading up the hill to Dharrow Castle reminded Jev of a dip he’d once had with olive pits mixed in, poised to ambush unsuspecting teeth. At least the jostling kept him from thinking overmuch about this meeting. Or worrying about Lornysh. The night before, Jev and Cutter had visited three different cultural venues, but they hadn’t spotted Lornysh at any of them.

  They had spotted someone in a dark green cloak with the hood pulled up.

  An elf, Cutter had been certain, and Jev had been tempted to confront the person, but the figure had disappeared into the shadows before they reached him. Perhaps it was just as well. Je
v didn’t think his ribs could handle being thrown against any more stone walls this week.

  Jev peered warily out the window as the carriage reached the pond with its moat meandering around the castle walls. He half hoped the drawbridge would be up and nobody would be on duty to lower it.

  “Right,” he mumbled.

  Not only was the drawbridge down, but an elegant steam carriage painted with the Bludnor family’s red and silver colors was parked outside the castle. Jev had come up well before the lunch hour, intending to speak with his father, but it seemed Fremia had been eager to meet him. He grimaced at the thought, already uncomfortable at the idea of this lunch date.

  As soon as Jev’s carriage drew to a stop in front of the drawbridge, one of his cousin’s sons, Teeks, ran out waving a dented wooden sword that looked like a favorite chew toy of the castle hounds.

  “Hello, Uncle Jev,” Teeks blurted, waving so hard his arm was in danger of flying out of its socket. “Are you here to tell stories? About noble battles? And the trolls in the swamp? We heard about them and that you single-handedly slew them all!”

  Actually, Lornysh had single-handedly slain them. A lot of them. Jev and Zenia had taken down far fewer.

  But Jev dared not bring up elves in the castle since it was a sore subject, and Zenia… He certainly hoped he could one day share stories involving her, but with Fremia’s carriage here, this wasn’t the day.

  Jev ruffled the kid’s hair. “Not until after I talk to my father and… the woman who’s here visiting. Maybe there’ll be time after lunch for a few stories and a battle—” he waved at Teeks’s sword, “—if you go easy on me. I’m still recovering from injuries.”

  “From the trolls?” Teeks’s eyes shone brighter than the sun in the clear blue sky.

  “From the dwarven ship that exploded after we fought the trolls. I had healers work on me after that, but I’m bruised and battered again from a run-in with a shadow golem yesterday.” He wriggled his eyebrows, certain Teeks would be interested in hearing about that.