He stared bleakly around at the myriad flowers lining the path and felt utterly lost. By the founders, he should have purchased something practical for her. He could do practical. For example, maybe she needed a new pistol. He hadn’t seen her wearing that one with the ivory handle she’d had when they first met. Had she been forced to return it to the temple, the same as she had her old dragon tear?
Jev felt confident he could pick out an attractive pistol. Maybe a matched set. But would she accept what would be considered a relatively expensive gift from him?
Someone paused at the head of the path, and Jev almost cast his flowers to the side, feeling he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. But he kept them. On the chance Zenia would like them, he couldn’t bring himself to throw away his chosen prizes.
Rhi peered down the pathway at him. She carried her bo and a knapsack and looked to be heading to work for the day.
“I’d ask if you were lost, Zyndar Dharrow, but I’m positive you’ve been to the castle more times than I have.”
“I have, but I don’t spend that much time in the gardens.” He wasn’t sure whether to hide his flowers and shoo her away before she noticed them or ask her opinion. If anyone would know Zenia’s taste in flowers—or if she liked them at all—Rhi ought to.
“Hm.” Rhi’s gaze drifted to his hand. She’d already seen them. “That answers that question, I think.”
“What question?”
“Whether it was you or Zenia who decided you two wouldn’t continue dating.”
Jev wanted to protest since the comment made him sound like a rotten lemon plucked from a tree, found lacking, and cast alongside the road. It hadn’t been like that at all.
Rhi walked toward him. “Are you hoping to woo her with flowers? I don’t know if any man has given her flowers before. Inquisitors are too daunting for flowers.”
“Yes, she’s mentioned her dauntingness before.”
“You don’t find her so? That’s funny since you met as she arrested you.”
“Tried to arrest me.” Jev held up the flowers. “These are purple, right?”
Rhi squinted at him as if she suspected him of making a joke.
“I’m colorblind,” he said.
“Ah. I’d say that explains your bland choices in clothing, but Zenia can see fine and picks bland stuff too. You two could be bland together if the flowers work and you win her over.”
“I’m not trying to win her over. I want to give her something as a thank-you for doing an insane amount of work for me.”
“I thought you thanked her with a hug.” Rhi smirked.
She hadn’t even been there. What the hells?
“I wouldn’t have suspected an office of men would be such a gossip-filled place,” Jev muttered, abruptly wondering if the rumors that he and Zenia were sleeping together had started in his own office. With Zyndar Garlok, perhaps? Jev wouldn’t have guessed him a gossip, but a griper, yes. He was the only person there who would have likely been invited into meetings with people in the same circles as Hydal.
“Hugs are big news,” Rhi said.
“That’s pathetic given all the concerns looming on the horizon.”
Rhi lifted her eyebrows. Jev decided he would let Zenia explain everything to her if she wanted. Since they didn’t yet have true evidence of conquerors on the way, he didn’t want to make a formal announcement to the office.
“Would a white flower go well with these?” Jev asked.
“Sure. Maybe something with a large bloom to contrast all those small bells. How about that? Or those?”
Jev stepped over to make a selection. “Do you think Zenia likes flowers?”
“You’ll find out if she flings her arms and legs around you for a passionate kiss.”
After his dream from the night before, Jev had no trouble imagining how he would respond to that, but he shook his head. “That won’t happen.”
“Why not?” Rhi genuinely sounded curious.
Jev was surprised Zenia hadn’t confided in her. Maybe she had been too busy this past week.
“Zenia doesn’t want someone to date. She wants someone to marry.” As soon as Jev made the statement, he wondered if it was actually correct. She’d said she wouldn’t have sex with someone she wasn’t married to, but had she actually implied she wanted to get married? She’d seemed distressed to end things with him, and he’d had the sense from their discussions that she might be interested if he proposed, but… maybe he’d been reading too much into her oblique words.
“Does she? Huh. I didn’t know she aspired to that.”
“I thought girlfriends always shared such things with each other,” he said lightly, though if Zenia had never brought it up with Rhi, that made him doubly doubt whether marriage was truly something she wanted.
“She’s private. She doesn’t talk much about her love interests. I’ve wondered from time to time… Well, it’s none of my business.”
“Nor mine,” he said, though he wanted to know what exactly Rhi wondered.
“If you propose to her, maybe it could be your business.” Rhi grinned.
“I can’t,” Jev said, though he realized belatedly she hadn’t been serious.
“Why not? You don’t seem like someone who cares that much about social decorum between the classes.”
“It’s less about decorum and more about obligations. As my father’s heir, it’s my duty to marry an appropriate zyndari woman.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
“It’s what I’ve always known I’ll have to do.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Jev smiled sadly. “I know, but it’s the only answer I’ve got. I’m my father’s only son now. I can’t fail him in this. If my brother were still alive, maybe I could have walked away from everything, knowing the estate would be in his hands, but he’s not. And I can’t claim he would have been a great choice for zyndar prime even if he were.”
“No chance your father would accept Zenia as a wife for you? Her father was zyndar. Did you know that?”
“Yes, and I know she loathes her father and wouldn’t likely accept it even if he suddenly did the right thing and acknowledged her as his daughter.” True, but the thought made Jev wonder for the first time if he could somehow talk Veran Morningfar into acknowledging Zenia and if it would make a difference to his father. He knew his old man wanted him to marry a Kolinsnor or Alderoth or maybe a Stellash… a zyndari woman from one of the truly powerful families with long histories of creating brave and talented war leaders. But maybe if Zenia were at least half zyndar…
“Are you going to pluck that one before the season ends and it withers and dies?”
Jev picked the flower his hand had been hovering over. “Yes.”
“Good. I look forward to seeing whether or not they end up in a vase on Zenia’s desk.” Rhi headed back to the main walkway.
“A vase?” Was he supposed to supply that too?
Rhi waved over her shoulder.
Jev trailed slowly after her, curious whether Rhi would report the details of their conversation to Zenia. It wasn’t anything she didn’t already know, but he imagined her being hurt to hear his rejection of the marriage idea emphasized again. Maybe not. Maybe he didn’t mean that much to her.
But he didn’t see her doing paperwork for anyone else.
He sighed and headed for the kitchen. Maybe he was a fool for not considering marriage. He wished Zenia had agreed to a few more dates—and, all right, sex—so he could better know how they would be together. Would they enjoy sleeping together? Living together? If he knew, that would make it easier to decide… What?
“You know exactly what,” he muttered.
If it had been only about him, he could have walked away from everything, from his lands, his rights, and even his title if need be. But all the people who lived on Dharrow land needed a good leader to take the reins once his father died, and he’d always known it was his duty to be that perso
n, to responsibly watch over the family and the estate. To choose anything less, no matter what his heart wanted, would be a breach of duty. Of honor.
No, he couldn’t walk away from that, and his father had already said he wouldn’t accept a commoner for Jev. But wouldn’t it be a crime of sorts to give up without even trying? Maybe, one day this summer, Jev would go see Morningfar. Could he talk the man into acknowledging Zenia without punching him for being such an ass to her all those years ago?
12
Zenia poked at her bowl of porridge, barely aware of it or the clatter of pots and pans on the other side of the kitchen. She sat at the table in the back with a couple of the castle staff, two women who chatted amiably with each other. She was too busy dwelling on another dream—another nightmare—that she’d had.
It had been similar to the one from the other night where she’d been trapped in a cave with a sword-wielding orc approaching. This time, it had gone further, with the orc swinging that sword like an axe, bringing it down on her shoulder. She’d woken with a cry of pain, her body drenched in sweat, the dragon tear glowing on her nightgown. She’d been shocked to find her arm still intact, no evidence of a wound. The nightmare had been disturbingly real and even now, she felt a dull ache in her shoulder.
Was it some kind of sign? Visions sent by the founders? Would orcs be the ones spearheading an attack on Kor? And if so, how did they tie in to the wealthy land-buying Tildar?
Someone set a glass vase of flowers down next to her bowl, and Zenia stirred, her awareness returning to the kitchen.
Jev smiled down at her, his hair combed and his beard freshly trimmed. “Good morning.”
Zenia made herself smile, though she wasn’t in the mood for it. He appeared far perkier than she. He must have had better dreams.
The two maids stopped chatting and looked over at him. The older one rested her chin on her hands, as if waiting to see what would happen. The younger one gave Jev a long appraising look up and down.
A surge of possessiveness went through Zenia, and she wanted to pull him down and say, “Mine.”
But he wasn’t.
“Morning, Jev,” she said, glancing at the flowers.
“I thought you might like them.” He hesitated, his smile faltering. “For your desk in the office. So people can tell it’s yours instead of mine.” He planted the smile back firmly on his face, but he seemed uncertain.
Was he nervous about giving her flowers? Why would such a small gesture daunt him? Unless he worried she would take it as a sign that he hoped she would change her mind about dating him. And having sex with him.
But she didn’t believe he was angling for that. He could have kissed her and more when she’d been standing chest to chest with him behind that waterfall. She would have let him. She’d wanted him, no matter what promises she’d made to herself. But he’d been the one to step back. He knew her vow, and he wouldn’t attempt to make her break it. She knew that about him by now. There was no questioning his honor.
“Thank you,” she said, realizing she might be making him nervous by not saying anything. “They’re lovely. Does that mean I’ll get fewer folders dropped on my desk?”
“Probably not.”
She lifted the vase, bringing the flowers to her nose. The purple lupines smelled wonderful. They were some of her favorites.
Jev’s smile grew more relaxed. “I just need a few minutes to wolf down some food, and we can head off to that townhouse. Want me to refill—oh, never mind. Did you just start?”
“Not exactly.” Zenia thought about telling him about her dreams and might have if they had been alone. But they weren’t. She frowned at the maid watching Jev’s butt as he went to retrieve a bowl.
A back door opened, and one of the pages hustled in, a boy that had been sent to retrieve Jev before. Tamordon, that was his name.
“Captain Cham,” he blurted, stopping at her side. “The king wants to see you. In his office.”
Jev ambled over with his bowl of porridge.
“The king wants to see you, too, Zyndar,” the page said. “In his office.”
“Not in his bedroom?”
Zenia almost blushed, thinking he’d heard of how she insisted on seeing Targyon the day before. Early.
“He’s in his office, Zyndar,” the page said earnestly, looking a little confused by Jev’s joke.
“Then we’ll definitely go there. Thanks, Tamordon.” Jev patted the boy on the shoulder. “Zenia?”
She abandoned her porridge but paused halfway to her feet. Jev might be offended if she likewise abandoned his flowers. What if one of the kitchen staff threw them away? She truly would like to have them on her desk in the office, even though they would wilt quickly down there, given the lack of natural light.
“Captain?” The page was already back at the door, holding it open for them.
“Coming.” Zenia grabbed the vase and hustled after Jev. She would feel silly carrying it through the castle, but that was better than leaving the flowers to chance.
She noticed Jev carrying his porridge bowl and spooning in mouthfuls as he ambled after the boy and promptly felt less silly.
“Is that allowed?” she whispered as they followed the page toward the closest stairs.
“Eating? I think most people who live in the castle do it from time to time.”
“You know what I mean.” She elbowed him.
He grinned at her and took a big bite.
“I’m not going to get a healer if you fall on the stairs and get a spoon lodged in your throat,” Zenia said.
“No? What about if it goes up my nose?”
“Definitely not. You would deserve it.”
“I can’t believe you feel that way.” He pointed his porridge-laden spoon at her vase. “You’re not going to give my gift to Targyon, are you? I would be devastated.”
“No.” She almost choked on the idea of strolling into the king’s office and handing him flowers. “I didn’t want the cooks to throw them away.”
“You could have asked one of them to take them to the office for you.”
“And give them more work? I’m sure they have plenty.” Besides, Zenia didn’t think she had the right to order the staff around. In a sense, she was staff too.
Tamordon stopped before the door to the secretary’s office and started to open it for them but paused, alarm widening his eyes as he looked at Jev’s face.
Zenia leaned around to see what the boy saw, then snorted.
“Is there a problem?” Jev asked.
“Yes,” Zenia said. “Young Tamordon here doesn’t want to introduce you to the king when there’s porridge smeared in your beard.”
The boy gave her a relieved look.
“Damn that hoity toity royal decorum,” Jev said.
“You’re the oddest zyndar I’ve ever met.” Zenia reached up to scrape the gunk off his beard.
He grinned and lowered his face accommodatingly. His eyes were gleaming. She didn’t know why he was so cheerful this morning, but the gleam was infectious, and the memory of her nightmare faded from her mind.
She looked down at the porridge in her hand and frowned. What was she supposed to do with it? She didn’t have a napkin.
“I’ll get it, ma’am.” The boy didn’t have a napkin either. He scraped it off her palm, considered it, then considered a potted plant near the door. He finally stuck his hand in his pocket and wiped it off in there.
Zenia grimaced, hoping he had plans to launder his trousers soon.
“You’re a troublemaker, Jev Dharrow,” she whispered as Tamordon pushed open the door.
“Yes, I am.” His eyes gleamed some more.
The secretary waved them through without preamble. They found Targyon inside with a man Zenia didn’t recognize, but he wore a blue cap identical to the one her informant who worked at the docks had been wearing the other day. She believed it signified a uniform down there.
“Jev, Zenia,” Targyon said. “I’ve just had word
from the port authority.” He waved to the man who bobbed his head. “A fast clipper arrived this morning. The captain reported passing a massive steamship heading this way, the craft manned by dwarves.”
“The ship full of dwarves that you invited, I hope,” Jev said, “and not some attack force.”
“I’m positive they’re the ones I invited. But they’re ahead of schedule.” Targyon grimaced. “Apparently, that steamship of theirs is fast. They’re expected to arrive in port here by dawn tomorrow.”
“Maybe tonight, Sire,” the dock man said.
Targyon’s grimace deepened. “Thank you, Lunt. Dismissed.”
The man bowed and let himself out, giving Zenia’s vase a curious look as he passed. Targyon seemed to notice it for the first time and also squinted at it in slight confusion.
Zenia held it to her chest, not sure what she would say if asked about it. Should she admit Jev had given the flowers to her? Would the king approve of his two chosen captains exchanging gifts?
The thought jolted her as she realized she hadn’t told Jev that his ex-fiancée had brought him a gift the day before. She’d left it on his desk, but she didn’t think he had been down to the office since then. Should she say something now? She wasn’t obligated to do so, especially not while Targyon was talking to them.
“Please tell me you’ve got a lead on Master Grindmor.” Targyon looked at both of them.
Zenia shoved thoughts of gifts from her mind. “Nothing concrete yet, Sire.” Founders’ fiery breath, she wished she could, for once, tell him they were close to completing their assignment. “We do have a lead we’re going to check out—we were just finishing breakfast before heading out.”
She hoped it wasn’t disingenuous to call visiting some wealthy man’s townhouse a lead. It could be a lead. But right now, it was just the purchase of an odd piece of land.
“So, I’m holding you up?” Targyon asked.
“No, Sire,” Zenia said as Jev said, “Absolutely, Sire.”
She resisted the urge to elbow him again. Not in front of the king.
Targyon frowned at Jev.
“Did you know the elven ambassador fled the city yesterday?” Jev asked.