Blood Ties

  “Still, it isn’t as if there are many people who are experts in this area.” Ghara's eyelids drooped. “Have you already visited the university? Spoken to my ex-colleagues? Professor Radnar? Erinkon? That arrogant gasbag Pulinosk?”

  “No,” Jev answered since Zenia had eased a couple of steps closer to a workstation full of test tubes, with open textbooks and journals scattered about. Was he supposed to take over the talking so she could snoop without being noticed? “I spoke with someone outside of the university.” Far outside, Jev amended silently, thinking of Lornysh. “But King Targyon knows of your work and suggested I see if you have any ideas, such as whether this was a man-made virus or if such a thing is even possible.” Jev shifted subtly to block Ghara’s view of Zenia. “My other source thought this unlikely.”

  “No human can tailor-make viruses,” Ghara said. “If someone was able to do that, I would have heard of it.”

  “What about an elf or a dwarf?”

  Zenia flipped a couple of pages in one of the journals. The butler, Jev noticed, had retreated back up the stairs.

  “Dwarves aren’t known for their science acumen, unless it has to do with engineering. Elves.” Ghara shrugged. “Who knows what they know? They don’t share their publications with us. The general consensus is that they live in trees and aren’t very advanced.”

  Lornysh would happily shoot a few dozen arrows through that consensus. Or maybe not. The elves probably liked humans underestimating them.

  “I brought a list of symptoms,” Jev said, deliberately not looking at Zenia as she drifted away from the table and toward the curtain, her hands clasped casually behind her back. “I was hoping you would know if they match up with some existing disease. Or a historically significant disease that’s faded away and not been seen for a while but that could have somehow been rekindled.”

  Jev had no idea how that would work, but this wasn’t his field, so he wouldn’t assume it couldn’t be done.

  “Symptoms? What is this, the bronze age? You couldn’t bring me a sample of blood from one of the deceased?”

  “Er, I think the deceased have been interred for weeks,” Jev said.

  “You think?”

  Jev was beginning to see why the relatively attractive Dr. Ghara Nhole wasn’t yet married. And why her mother seemed a touch desperate.

  “As we said,” Jev said calmly, “we were only recently assigned to this case. And only recently hired and brought up to the castle. I was in Taziira until last week. The princes, I understand, all died several weeks ago.”

  “So, get me a sample from one of their livers. Something I can look at under my microscope.” Ghara waved to one of several contraptions on her desk.

  “Zyndari, I can ask, but the bodies are entombed in the royal cemetery, and I suspect that neither the king’s family nor the castle representatives from the Orders will approve of someone cutting into the remains of the princes.”

  Dear founders, why did she want pieces of their livers?

  “This is why scientific progress grinds along so slowly.” Ghara snapped her fingers at him. “Give me the list.”

  Jev was glad he’d made a copy before coming out, because he was disinclined to trust her. Not that she’d said anything suspicious. She was just… grating. Zenia would snort at someone being added to the list of suspects based on that.

  “Fever and fatigue, wonderful. Those are symptoms for all the viruses in existence.” Ghara grumbled under her breath as she read the rest of the symptoms. “The pustules are less common at least. Hm, give me some time to do some research. I have books that list diseases with indices of symptoms.”

  Zenia had reached the curtain, drawing it open just far enough that she could gaze inside. Which she did with a neutral expression on her face. From his position, Jev couldn’t see what she was looking at.

  Ghara walked toward one of the bookcases, scowling at Zenia as she went.

  Zenia let the curtain fall shut and faced her. “Zyndari Nhole, did anyone approach you and ask if you would assist in creating a virus that could be used to attack the princes? Or simply a deadly virus in general?”

  “No,” Ghara said promptly, not avoiding Zenia’s gaze. “I told you, humans can’t create viruses. You find the guest on my autopsy table interesting?” She waved toward the curtain.

  “Interesting? Not particularly. But I’m going to assume he’s the reason the butler doesn’t like coming down here.”

  Ghara gave her an edged smile. “He’s the last nosy agent who came out here to bug me with questions.”

  “The corpse appears rather elderly and overweight to have recently occupied such a position in life.”

  “His kidneys are a mess too. You should see them up close.”

  Zenia’s gaze drifted to the shelves with jars full of organs, but she appeared unfazed. Almost disinterested. Jev wasn’t disturbed by the paraphernalia, but he also didn’t have an urge to go look at what sounded like a cadaver missing some organs.

  “It’ll take me a couple of hours to check my references.” Ghara pointed toward the stairs. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow? I don’t need anyone distracting me.” She squinted specifically at Zenia.

  Zenia hesitated, then strolled toward the stairs. On the way, she looked around wistfully. Wishing she’d gotten more of an opportunity to snoop?

  Jev didn’t have snooping in mind, but he didn’t want to have to come all the way back out here tomorrow.

  “You may not have noticed down here,” Jev told Ghara, “but there’s a big storm going on out there. It may not be safe to ride back right now. Would you mind if we spent the night? I’ll be pleased to return the favor if you’re ever out near Dharrow Castle and need a place to stay.”

  He offered his best charming smile, though he didn’t think it would do anything to soften the woman’s demeanor. Maybe nothing would.

  “What time is it?” Ghara moved a stack of books to reveal a wall clock. “Oh, that late? Why didn’t you come out earlier?”

  Jev wondered if he would have to point out that zyndar social etiquette demanded hospitality when other zyndar came to visit, regardless of the hour. And it wasn’t that late.

  “I was prying a woman out of the king’s lap earlier today,” he said. “It was hard work.”

  Zenia twitched her eyebrows. Ghara stared humorlessly at him, then pulled on a bell.

  Several long moments passed before the butler’s footsteps sounded on the stairwell.

  “Our visitors need a place to stay,” Ghara told him.

  “Yes, Zyndari. I’ll prepare—”

  “The cottage,” Ghara said firmly.

  The butler hesitated. “The cottage? Your mother has already agreed to house the king’s servants in the castle, in the bunkhouse wing.”

  “The cottage for these two.” Ghara waved for them all to leave.

  “Yes, Zyndari.”

  “I don’t think she liked us,” Jev murmured as he and Zenia trailed the butler up the stairs.

  “She didn’t like me snooping. I saw her shooting me glares. I think that’s why we’re being shooed to some exterior dwelling. Maybe I shouldn’t have let my eyes roam in front of her.”

  “Did you find anything interesting?”

  “No.”

  The butler led them through the foyer, rain audible once again, pounding on the roof and the wind blowing sheets of it against the shuttered windows. Jev didn’t look forward to walking outside to get to wherever this cottage was. Not a mile up a hillside path, he hoped.

  “Do you think she was lying about whether anyone had approached her?” Jev murmured as the butler led them into another hallway.

  “No.” Zenia didn’t hesitate before answering.

  Jev looked at her in surprise. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Hm.” He reminded himself that Zenia didn’t have a dragon tear anymore, so she could be fooled by someone who was a good liar. But would a woman who’d dedicated herself to the sci
ences, and who clearly excelled in her field and had a touch of arrogance, bother acquiring expertise in the art of mendacity? “You don’t think she’s hiding anything?”

  “She could be hiding all manner of things, but I don’t think she was the one responsible for making the virus. She answered that question promptly and a little angrily. I got the sense she was irked she hadn’t been consulted.”

  “She was irked a criminal didn’t ask her to help with a crime?”

  “It may have been my imagination, but I could envision her being eager for the chance to work on a challenging scientific problem, which this might have presented.”

  The butler passed a kitchen and dining hall before stopping at a back door. He opened it, revealing a puddle-filled yard and water spewing from gutter spouts as well as dripping from the eaves. A stable and vehicle house stood on opposite sides of a path that meandered toward a back gate and also a small, dark cottage. Twilight had come and no lamps appeared to burn behind the cottage windows. The sloping roof slumped over a narrow porch, both in need of repair.

  “I wonder if our host would be offended if we slept in our steam carriage instead,” Jev said.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Zenia said.

  “I’ll try to envision it as a private and cozy place—and hope there are minimal leaks inside.”

  “I’ll send someone out shortly to lay a fire and bring food and linens. Towels.” The butler shrugged apologetically. “We weren’t anticipating guests.”

  “Thank you.” Zenia jogged out onto the pathway, hurrying toward the covered porch.

  “She’s eager to spend a romantic night with me,” Jev explained to the butler.

  “Yes, Zyndar. I have no doubt.”

  Jev couldn’t tell if that was sarcastic or not. He braced himself, then ran out into the rain as more lightning flashed in the sky.

  10

  Raindrops plunked into a bedpan Zenia had placed under a persistent leak. A bucket in the back corner caught water from another. She had done her best to sweep the water on the floor out the door while Jev, not waiting for the staff, found dry wood and started a fire in the hearth.

  The storm had brought cold air in addition to rain, making the day considerably chillier than it had been when Zenia dressed that morning. Had she known about this, she would have brought a cloak.

  “Well.” Jev sat back from the hearth, a fire now crackling before him. “A leaky cottage is better than a leaky tent in enemy territory. Though back in the army, I could have ordered a private to find some pitch to smear over the leak and fix my tent.” He lifted his gaze toward the water-stained ceiling. “Considering how many of the shingles were lying on the ground around the structure, pitch might not be sufficient for the job here.”

  “We’ll survive one night.” Zenia decided not to mention that the cottage was larger and had nicer furniture—however aged it was—than the room she rented. “Though one does wonder if we irritated that woman more than I thought.”

  “I could have tried harder to be charming, but sometimes, it takes multiple exposures to my charms before a person is infected.”

  “I thought it was your humor that was infectious, not your charms.”

  “Either way, she’s definitely in the same group you’re in. Or were in. What did you call it?”

  “The placebo group,” Zenia said dryly.

  “It’s larger than I remembered from the last time I was around women regularly. Is it possible I’ve lost some of my good looks and allure?” He smirked, but he also touched the scar on his cheek, his eyes growing thoughtful. Or maybe concerned.

  “It’s hard getting older.” Zenia leaned the broom against the wall and shut the door. The wind had been blowing in as much rain as she swept out. “If it helps, the mother seemed interested in your charms.”

  “Not really. But in case she was serious, I better send a note to my father and let him know I’m not interested in an arranged marriage with Dr. Nhole.”

  “Will he listen to you?” Zenia asked, morbidly curious.

  “I hope so. I’d like to think he would ask my opinion before setting something up, but it’s been a long time since we discussed the matter.” Jev added a couple more logs to the fire. “Do you think it would be within my purview as a Crown Agent to arrest Dr. Nhole? That should make her ineligible for marriage.”

  “Should?”

  “Technically, there are precedents of arranged marriages going forward, even though they involved zyndar detained for misdemeanors. I seem to remember a story about a couple who were both detained and got married from adjoining cells.”

  “And here I thought the law couldn’t touch the zyndar.”

  “Occasionally, something particularly scandalous justifies touching.”

  Zenia came to stand by the fire so her clothes would dry. Just running out to the cottage had been enough to dampen her all the way through.

  Lightning continued to flash outside. If she had brought an overnight bag, she would have changed clothing. There were two separate bedrooms, if small ones. She and Jev wouldn’t have to share a bed, or debate which one would take the damp couch that had been positioned under one of the leaks before they moved it. That made the situation less complicated, even if a part of her wouldn’t mind sharing human warmth tonight. The flames, which could only warm one side of her at a time, felt inadequate.

  Jev sat on the raised hearth next to her.

  “Would you go through with an arranged marriage?” The words came out before Zenia could ponder if she wanted to ask the question. She didn’t want to pry or make him grow concerned that she had marriage in mind, because she didn’t, but she might have been the tiniest bit alarmed when Zyndari Nhole broached the subject. Even if Jev would fight his father about the idea of Dr. Nhole as a suitable wife, there might be zyndari out there that he would find acceptable. More appealing to his tastes. His fiancée from ten years earlier, whom he’d mentioned briefly when he and Zenia had been in that cell together, had presumably been zyndari and acceptable to his family. If someone appealing was presented as an option, what then? Would Jev go along with it?

  “It would be ideal,” Jev said, clasping his hands between his knees and gazing toward the wood floorboards, “if it didn’t get to that stage. Maybe I need to do more than send a note.” He grimaced. “I should talk to my father in person when I get a chance, to make sure he doesn’t plan something behind my back. Or, more likely, let one of my aunts plan something and then sign off on it without paying much attention.”

  Zenia considered that answer. “Does that mean you would go through with it? If you didn’t talk to your family soon enough and they arranged something while you were busy working?”

  He slanted her a bleak look. “You’re making me want to run out there right now.” He snorted. “But I don’t think I’m in danger of anything being planned this week. The entire family is appalled and distressed in the aftermath of the confession from Grandmother Visha. Even though my mother had been out of our lives for a long time, I think it disturbed my father a great deal to learn she truly was dead—and how it happened.”

  Zenia noticed he wasn’t answering her question. She couldn’t tell if he was deliberately redirecting the conversation because he thought the answer might distress her or if he was redirecting it because the answer distressed him.

  She vowed not to pry further. It wasn’t as if he had professed his love for her and she had the right to grill him on his marriage plans. They hadn’t even had their first date yet.

  Wind battered at the back of the cottage, and something snapped above them. Another rotten shingle flying free?

  “It would be a hard choice to be honest,” Jev said, perhaps bestirred by the noise. “It would depend on if I was involved with someone else.” He didn’t glance at her, but she felt him observing her out of the corner of his eye. “And how involved.”

  “If you were in love?” she suggested, despite her vow not to pry.

  “Yeah
. I guess if I wasn’t… involved… Well, I’ve always known it’s my duty as the old man’s firstborn to take his place one day, to manage the estate and the tenants, to see over the family’s business interests, and to marry and have children who will then carry on in my place one day. It’s an obligation, my duty as zyndar. To reject it would be to reject everything. If I didn’t marry eventually and produce offspring, my father might choose another to be his heir. He might not, as it wouldn’t be an easy choice with my brother now dead, but it would be within his rights to do so.”

  “Do you want children?” She noticed he was being careful not to imply that he wanted to marry her—maybe if he did that, it still wouldn’t satisfy his duty, since she didn’t have the right blood—and he also hadn’t implied feeling love for her. Which was fine. She hadn’t expected it. They hadn’t known each other long, and it wasn’t as if she loved him. Yes, she’d admitted she was attracted to him, but that wasn’t the same thing as love. Though he did seem like a man one could grow to love if the circumstances allowed it.

  “I would like them,” Jev said. “Both to satisfy all my zyndarly duties and because I found I missed having kids around when I was in Taziira. The young, dumb soldiers who worked under me weren’t quite the same.” He smiled at her, then lifted his brows in curiosity. “Do you want children?”

  “I’m not sure. When I was younger, I always assumed I would have them one day, but now that I’m older… uhm, I guess it would have to be soon. In the next few years, anyway. I’ve always been so focused on my career, and opportunities to meet and marry someone haven’t come my way often, that I started to think it wouldn’t happen. And now…”

  “Now?”

  “Well, I have this new career where I have to start all over. I’m willing to do so and determined to make a name for myself all over again, but I guess I can’t see that happening if I’m nursing babies and wrangling toddlers.”