“You never saw my room, did you?”
“You neglected to invite me to visit it. I’m positive I would have preferred it over the dungeon.”
“Your cell wasn’t so bad. It had a window.”
“The company was loathsome.” He grimaced, and she knew he didn’t refer to her.
The genuine pain that flashed in his eyes took the fun out of bantering with him, and she lowered her gaze to the metal floor of the carriage.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.
She regretted that she hadn’t been able to stop what she knew had been a painful questioning session. Interrogation session. She’d been drugged at the time, so hadn’t been awake or aware of it, but that didn’t alleviate her guilt, and fresh irritation welled in her, irritation toward Archmage Sazshen. For years, she had considered the woman her mentor and even a friend, but Sazshen had been so quick to turn on her. Zenia realized she must never have meant that much to the archmage. It stung to know that.
It also stung to know that Rhi was the only one of her former colleagues who had left the temple and sought her out to offer condolences to her over the loss of the job. The career. But she supposed she was as much to blame for that as anyone else. While she’d had acquaintances in the temple, she’d let her work make her distant. Or maybe she simply was distant, and the work was an excuse. How often had she gone to her room at the end of the day, preferring the company of a book to the boisterous shouts and laughs of monks and mages in the dining hall? It surprised her that Jev had made so many attempts at getting through her standoffishness.
“Not your fault.” Jev must have noticed her glum expression because he scooted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. For a second, she thought he’d read her mind somehow and was responding to her thoughts of standoffishness, but then he added, “I’m sure if you had interrogated me, it would have been much more pleasurable.”
She appreciated the warmth of his arm around her shoulders. “It wouldn’t have been painful. I’m not sure anyone I questioned ever mentioned finding the experience pleasurable.”
“No? That’s a shame. I’ll have to readjust my fantasies.”
“Your what?”
“Lurid dreams about how our interrogation session might have turned into something wild and passionate.”
“I…” She almost gaped up at him. She wasn’t used to men speaking with her so bluntly about sex. Technically, it hadn’t been that blunt—she’d heard worse, though usually in a deliberately vulgar and violent context—but it surprised her that he would admit to fantasies. Revolving around her.
Should she be flattered? By the founders, she didn’t know how to react. He probably assumed she had more experience in such matters than she did. Given her age, maybe that was a reasonable assumption. But then, celibacy was considered a virtue for those who worked in the temples, serving the founders. Monks weren’t supposed to let themselves be distracted from their training by carnal activities, and mages, especially the women, often dedicated themselves to their careers instead of pursuing marriage and having children.
But she hadn’t told him that yet.
“Sorry.” Jev withdrew his arm and placed his hands in his lap. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I thought—I mean, you’re fairly straightforward about most things. I didn’t think straightforward talk about lurid fantasies would faze you, but I should have waited until we’d kissed more than once to hint of such things.”
“It’s all right.”
Zenia hadn’t meant to stare stupidly at him and make him think… Well, she didn’t know what he thought now. She did know that she missed his arm around her shoulders and had the urge to squirm close to him, grab it, and put it back where it had been.
“Uhm, what is the appropriate number of times to kiss before bringing up fantasies?” She smiled, hoping to let him know she hadn’t minded or been offended by his interest.
“More than once.” He smiled quickly in return, but it wasn’t as heartfelt as his earlier ones had been. Did he now feel uncomfortable because he thought he’d made her uncomfortable?
She stared bleakly at the side of his face, wondering how to fix that.
Water spattered the window, making her jump before she realized it was just rain. Hard rain. The wind blew it sideways against the carriage.
“I see Nhole Castle.” Jev pointed out his window. “Already lit up for the night. Guess they saw the storm coming. I hope this won’t take long and that we can return to the city tonight.”
Dark clouds filled the entire sky now, and rain pounded down on the roof of the carriage. Zenia wondered if water running into the smokestack or dampening the coal would affect the vehicle’s ability to carry them back to the city.
“I hadn’t meant for this to be an overnight trip,” Jev added, sounding apologetic.
“Do you think they’ll let us stay if we need to?”
“I’m sure there’s plenty of room in their castle, and it’s in the Zyndar Code of Honor that you’re supposed to host fellow zyndar travelers. Whether they honor the code might depend on whether we accuse Dr. Nhole of conspiring to kill the princes or not.”
Zenia didn’t point out that she was not zyndari, so those rules would not apply to her. Presumably, she could stay as Jev’s guest. She didn’t mind the idea of spending the night, since it would afford her the opportunity to snoop if this zyndari doctor wasn’t forthcoming. But then, the last time she’d roamed around a castle with snooping in mind, she’d ended up with the ceiling collapsing and almost killing her.
As the carriage rolled to a stop in a great circular driveway outside Nhole Castle, nervous queasiness crept into her stomach.
9
Jev stepped inside the foyer ahead of Zenia, glancing around for possible traps. The water dribbling into his eyes made it difficult. He hadn’t dressed for the rain, and he regretted it.
Fortunately, he didn’t see anything threatening in the spacious room, just wood paneling, flagstone floors covered with rugs and furs, and doorways and a staircase leading into other parts of the small castle.
A keep, some snobbier zyndar with larger structures would have called it. Jev resolved not to wrinkle his nose and be snobby. Though he couldn’t help but twitch a nostril at a sulphuric odor lurking in the air. What was that?
Lightning flashed in the dark sky outside as the butler closed the door behind them. A long rumble of thunder emanated through the stone walls, and Jev hoped the carriage attendants found a dry vehicle house or stable to hunker down in.
A boy of ten or eleven ran into the foyer with a stack of towels.
“Dry yourself, Zyndar Dharrow?” The butler waved the boy toward him. “And your lady friend…?”
“Captain Zenia Cham,” she said, her chin lifting in that familiar gesture.
Jev hid a smile, amused that she’d taken to her new title so quickly. But it wasn’t as if she could introduce herself as an inquisitor anymore.
“Captain?” the butler asked, his tone carefully modulated so it came out neither curious or skeptical.
“Of His Majesty’s Crown Agents,” Zenia said.
“Ah, welcome.” The butler hesitated, then bowed, clearly not knowing the proper protocol for addressing a Crown Agent. He had bowed automatically to Jev, of course.
Zenia’s chin seemed to twitch an iota higher.
“We’re here to see Zyndari Dr. Ghara Nhole,” Jev said. “Is she here?”
“The acrid scent arising from the basement should attest to that.” The butler used the same deadpan tone, but this time, it conveyed a hint of emotion. Disapproval.
“Will you take us to her?” Jev didn’t know which of the several doors led to the basement. The only visible staircase headed upward.
The butler visibly braced himself. “Yes.”
He extended a hand toward one of the doors to the rear of the foyer, but before he could lead them in that direction, a woman in flowing, exotically patterned garments strode into
the room. Jev had seen her before back when he’d been a teenage boy attending social functions for his father, his father detesting such things even more than Jev. He couldn’t remember the woman’s first name but was certain she was Zyndari Nhole and married to Zyndar Prime Tigoroth Nhole.
“Dubb, we have guests? And you didn’t tell me?” She glanced at Zenia, but her gaze soon locked onto Jev. She smiled, something predatory in the gesture. It reminded him of Iridium.
The butler bowed apologetically. “They just arrived, Zyndari. They came to see your daughter.”
The woman flicked her fingers in acknowledgment without looking at the man. No, she was busy looking Jev up and down, as if she were considering purchasing him for some function requiring an escort. Had Tigoroth passed on since Jev was home last?
“Zyndar Dharrow, isn’t it?” She came forward and extended her hand for him to clasp to his chest. “Jevlain? You’ve grown up so much since I saw you last. And you’re so handsome.”
“Uhm, thank you. Zyndari Nhole.” Jev glanced at Zenia. He wouldn’t mind it if it bothered her when another woman showed him affection, but he supposed a graying matron wearing stripes mixed with leopard spots wouldn’t drive her into a fit of jealousy.
Indeed, she appeared more bewildered than bothered. Jev didn’t know if that was because she found the woman’s interest puzzling or if she was recovering from his fumbled attempt at flirting in the carriage. By the founders’ scaled backsides, why had he told her he fantasized about her? Had he expected her to find it flattering? He should have known she would consider it uncouth. It was uncouth. Could he blame his ineptness on how long it had been since he’d had anyone to flirt with?
He could certainly blame his horniness on that. He hadn’t been joking about having fantasies lately and was pleased and relieved they focused on her instead of Naysha. He’d dreamt of Naysha often during the years he’d been gone, even after he’d learned she had married another, and it always disturbed him when he woke up, realizing he’d been coveting someone else’s wife. Even if she had once almost been his wife.
“Levandra, please. And oh dear, you’re terribly wet.” Zyndari Nhole—Levandra—frowned as she withdrew her hand from his.
“Yes, sorry. A storm opened up on top of us.”
Thunder rumbled again.
“I saw. I saw. It came in quickly. Let’s hope it’s natural for the season and not the work of some elf mage making trouble for the kingdom.”
Jev squinted at her, trying to decide if she truly believed that a possibility. She wore a troubled expression as she glanced toward a shuttered window.
“Dubb?” Zenia asked and tilted her head toward the door the butler had indicated before. She would, no doubt, prefer to get right to work questioning the doctor.
“Yes, Captain.” The butler took a step in that direction.
Levandra’s gray brows lifted. “Captain? What are you a captain of? The watch? Surely, no women were permitted in the king’s army.” She frowned at Zenia, now examining her with a similar scrutiny to what Jev had received, but a faint lip curl accompanied it. “You’re not zyndari, are you? I don’t recognize you.”
“No, Zyndari Nhole. I’m one of the king’s Crown Agents. I lead the organization, along with Jev.”
“Jev?” Levandra mouthed and looked at him. “You let a commoner call you Jev?”
“I’d be happy to have her call me anything she likes.” Jev smiled and looked fondly at Zenia, even if she was focused on that door and didn’t seem to notice.
“Does your father know about this?” Levandra demanded.
Jev realized he’d made a mistake. Oh, he wasn’t worried about the old man learning he’d developed feelings for Zenia, but he didn’t want a lecture from a zyndari he barely knew on women suitable for a zyndar.
“He’s met Zenia,” Jev said and took a step toward that rear door.
The butler had already opened it.
“Has he? Then he might be especially appreciative if I visited him.” Levandra gripped her chin thoughtfully and looked Jev up and down again.
“Er, in what context?” Jev could guess—he’d had zyndari matrons speak of setting him up with their daughters before—but he hoped he was wrong.
“Marriage, of course. I understand you’ve been away at war—a very noble pursuit for one so young as you to dedicate so much of your life to. If you’d been at home all this time, your father would have arranged your marriage by now, I have no doubt. And what of you? You must be pining for the embrace of a loving zyndari woman.” Levandra sent a pointed look toward the door.
Jev expected Zenia to be halfway to the basement with the butler, but she had paused to wait for him. He almost wished she hadn’t.
“My work for the king leaves me with little time for pining, Zyndari. Now, if you’ll pardon me, I need to see your daughter.”
“Excellent, though I do wish you’d sent word ahead that you were coming. That would have been the polite thing to do, you know. I believe she’s…” Levandra frowned toward the door. “She’s not likely dressed for entertaining, but she rivals elven princesses for beauty when she wishes to. And she’s so smart. Do spend some time with her.” The woman waved as Jev hustled for the door, trying not to feel like he’d dropped his sword and shield and was fleeing the battlefield. “I’ll talk to your father as soon as I can.”
Jev waved—or maybe shooed—the butler who, like Zenia, had been waiting for him. The man’s eyes crinkled at the corners, but he did not say anything as he led the way down the hallway. Jev wondered if he’d witnessed other zyndar guests being waylaid in the foyer.
“You seem to be quite the eligible bachelor,” Zenia murmured, sounding more amused than jealous. “Impressive, considering the water dripping from your beard.”
Jev frowned and scraped his fingers through his beard. He’d trimmed it short enough that he didn’t think it could hold too much water, but they had been drenched during their short run from the carriage to the castle.
“The glisten of water only adds to the allure of my facial hair,” he announced.
“Haven’t seen a mirror recently, have you?”
Jev shot her a dirty look, but he was pleased to have her joking with him again so he didn’t offer further rebuttal.
The butler stopped in front of a set of gray stone stairs curving downward from the hall.
“If you’re ready?” Once again, the man visibly braced himself.
“Do you want me to go first?” Jev couldn’t imagine what the butler found so distasteful—though that sulphuric odor had grown stronger—but maybe this boded well for the daughter as a suspect or accomplice in the case. If she was proven to be a criminal, would her mother forgo the visit to Dharrow Castle?
“No, Zyndar.” The butler sighed and descended the stairs.
Jev would have gone second, to protect Zenia from whatever evil sights and smells might wait below, but she hurried after the butler.
“Zyndari Ghara?” the butler called ahead before stepping off the stairs and into a windowless room lit only by lamps burning some dubious oil that might have contributed to the strong odor of the place.
All manner of laboratory equipment lined shelves and tables, and the room claimed an interesting collection of less scientifically useful decor, such as a shrunken troll head, a metal golem statue, and several animal heads mounted on the walls, some furred, some feathered, and some scaled. They looked like the manifestations of a taxidermist’s imagination rather than real creatures, but Jev hadn’t traveled the whole world and couldn’t say with certainty that the animals didn’t exist somewhere.
Shelves over the tables held jars of organs from various animals—or humans. A curtain hung to one side of the basement laboratory, obscuring whatever lay behind it. Jev didn’t want to know, but Zenia already eyed it with speculation.
One corner of the laboratory was brighter than the rest with a chandelier hanging over a workstation in addition to numerous lamps on the flat surfa
ce. A woman in a simple red dress sat before it, reading from a thick book while something bubbled in a beaker over a flame. She turned toward them and pulled spectacles she’d been wearing above her forehead down onto her nose.
“You have guests.” The butler bowed, glancing uneasily at one of the scaled and snouted heads mounted near the door. The thing was half as large as he was. “Zyndar Dharrow and Captain Zenia Cham of His Majesty’s Crown Agents.”
“His what?” Ghara’s brow furrowed, and her nose wrinkled up.
It was a cute expression, despite soot smudged on her cheek, and though Jev wouldn’t go so far as to agree with the mother’s assessment of great beauty, he wagered Ghara could find a husband on her own if she truly wanted one. She looked to be in her late thirties but more in love with her laboratory than human beings. Much to her mother’s consternation, Jev suspected.
Zenia sighed. “Just call me Zenia.”
She glanced at Jev, wistfulness in her eyes, and he guessed she missed being the fearsome and fearless Inquisitor Cham. Everybody had heard of the Orders’ inquisitors, and nobody wanted to cross them, not even the zyndar. Based on how nobody they talked to seemed aware of the king’s special agents, Jev wondered if they should be announcing who they were to everyone they met. Had Abdor preferred nobody knew about his network of agents, their office hidden away in the back of the castle much like this quirky lab? Jev hadn’t heard of the office or the agents before Targyon mentioned them, though he’d been vaguely aware that his army intelligence reports went back to analysts in the capital.
“The new king sent you?” Ghara asked.
“We’re performing an investigation into the princes’ deaths,” Zenia said.
“Huh, I’m surprised it took that long for you to find your way here. They’ve been dead for weeks.”
“We were just hired,” Zenia said, her voice chilling.
“Since Abdor died on the front and the princes all passed away so quickly,” Jev said, “the Crown Agents’ office has lacked a strong leader and been in some disarray.” He thought of Zyndar Garlok, wondering if the man would be back tomorrow. Jev didn’t think Targyon had told Garlok about his incipient retirement yet, but might the zyndar already have guessed? Maybe he was in no hurry to return to receive the news firsthand.