Duty Bound Read online

  Duty Bound

  Agents of the Crown, Book 3

  Lindsay Buroker

  Copyright © 2018 by Lindsay Buroker

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Epilogue

  1

  Somewhere outside the dark cave, pots clanked and the wind moaned. Harsh, guttural voices spoke, rising and falling in a discussion. Zenia couldn’t understand them. Were they even human?

  Fear flowed through her veins. Where was she?

  She lifted her head, and chains rattled. For some reason, she lay on her belly, looking toward the misty gray sky outside the mouth of the cave. She tried to rise, but the chains held her down. The shackles bound her limbs and ran across her back, pinning her to the rough earthen floor. Her fear grew stronger as she realized how little she could move. Again, she tried to rise, muscles bunching and flexing in her haunches.

  Haunches? Strange. Her body did not seem to be her own.

  A grunt came from the cave entrance, and a large, muscled figure stepped into view, straight white hair hanging to its inhuman shoulders. She couldn’t see the face, but the hint of a tusk protruded from its silhouette. An orc?

  Zenia had heard stories of orcs, trolls, ogres, and how they hated humans, elves, and dwarves, and had once battled great wars with them, but those races never came to the capital anymore. They had not been welcome for many generations, with people hunting them until they fled the continents that men claimed, and sightings were rare throughout the kingdom.

  Wherever Zenia was, she doubted she was in the kingdom anymore.

  The orc lifted a sword and pointed the sharp tip at her. It spoke in the guttural language. She heard herself growl, the deep growl of a dangerous predator, but the orc wasn’t afraid of her. It strode in, lifting the sword as it—

  A knock sounded at the door. Zenia bolted upright in bed, her fingers clenched in a blanket that fell to her waist. She peered around the dim room, struggling to get her bearings. The shadowy figure of the orc remained all too prominent in her mind, and she expected to see it crouching behind the armoire, poised to drive that sword through her heart.

  The knock came again, and she managed to push the memory—the dream—away, rational thought overriding the fear that lingered. She was in her room at Alderoth Castle where she worked as captain of His Majesty’s Crown Agents. There weren’t any orcs within hundreds of miles.

  Dim light filtered through the window and signaled dawn’s approach. Who was knocking on her door so early?

  Jev?

  Excitement stirred in her breast at the possibility, and she hurried to grab her robe and don it.

  She hadn’t spoken to Jev in two days, not since she’d pulled away from his kiss and told him they couldn’t date, not when there was no possibility of marriage between her—a common woman—and him—zyndar and heir to his family’s estate. She hadn’t been deliberately avoiding him, even though part of her was tempted since she didn’t know what to say to him now, but he hadn’t been around the castle much. She’d had to hear from Zyndar Garlok in the office that Jev’s friend Cutter and the dwarven gem cutter Master Arkura Grindmor were missing. First, her magical diamond-encrusted carving tools had disappeared and now the dwarf herself.

  As Zenia opened the door, she wondered what she would say if it was Jev. What if he wanted to convince her that she’d been wrong, that they should date and enjoy each other’s company even if marriage wasn’t a possibility?

  But it wasn’t Jev.

  “Oh,” Zenia said.

  Rhi Lin, former monk of the Water Order and current rookie Crown Agent, stood in the hallway. She gripped her six-foot-long bo staff in one hand and held a pack over her shoulder with the other.

  “Oh?” Rhi asked. “I realize it’s early, but you needn’t sound disappointed to see me. Unless I’m interrupting something?” Rhi cocked an eyebrow and peered around Zenia and toward the bed. “Your sheets are certainly rumpled enough to suggest vigorous lovemaking was going on last night, but I don’t see a naked zyndar. Unfortunately.”

  “No. I had a dream.”

  “A dream or a nightmare?”

  The sheets were a tangled mess, and her blanket had fallen to the sheepskin rug beside the bed.

  “I’m not sure.” Zenia rubbed her face, memories of being chained and of the hulking, sword-wielding orc returning to her mind. “It doesn’t matter. Your arrival here must mean it’s time to get up.” Thank the founders. She didn’t want to go back to sleep and risk the dream returning. Wherever it had been heading, she knew she wouldn’t have liked it. “Though you’re earlier than necessary, Rhi. Are you trying to earn the approval of the king and your fellow agents by being extremely punctual?”

  “Actually, I’m looking for someplace to throw my stuff until I can find a room to let. Archmage Sazshen kicked me out of the temple almost as quickly as she kicked you out. I told her I’d gotten a job up here and tried to give her a week’s notice, and she fired me on the spot.”

  “I’m sorry,” Zenia said, guilt welling in her chest. “That’s because of me. I’m…”

  “A delightful person who’s going to let me stash my belongings here for the day. And perhaps recommend to the king that his newest and sexiest agent would love a room down the hall from yours here at the castle.”

  “Sexiest?”

  Rhi no longer wore her monk’s gi from the Water Order Temple, but she had chosen a crisp, long-sleeved shirt and trousers that snapped in a similar manner when she punched and kicked people. The new outfit didn’t show off any more skin than the gi had.

  “Sexiest,” Rhi said firmly. “I’ve seen the bulbous blowhards that work in your office. The competition is scant.”

  “I work there.”

  “Yes, and you’re quite pretty and you have those perky bosoms, but the more rugged sex finds you distant and unapproachable. Also, you walk like a man. To be sexy, you need to sway your hips in a way that rivets men’s eyes to your backside as you walk away.”

  “Hm.”

  Zenia didn’t think she was as unapproachable as she had been when she’d worked as an inquisitor for the Water Order but admitted she wasn’t the best judge. Had she ever truly been distant? She was inclined to deny that but then thought of the way she’d pushed Jev away, not willing to let him get close out of the fear that their kisses might turn into something she’d long ago vowed to avoid as long as she was an unmarried woman.

  “Go ahead and put your stuff down,” Zenia said, having the urge to change the subject. She waved for Rhi to set her pack inside the door. “As for the rest, I don’t think it’s within my power to get you a room here. None of the other agents stay in the castle, and I barely know King Targyon, so I would feel awkward asking him for a favor.”

  “Zyndar Dharrow stays here.”

  “Yes, but Jev is the king’s army buddy. The rest of the agents stay in town with their wives or girlfriends.”

  “Alas, I don’t have one of those to impose upon.”

&nb
sp; Zenia smiled faintly. She was glad Rhi was coming to work in the office, especially since the only other female agent had turned out to be instrumental in the deaths of King Abdor’s sons. The day before, Lunis Drem had sailed away from the harbor on a ship bound for another kingdom. Though horrified at what the former agent had done, Zenia was glad she had been exiled instead of executed.

  “Did you know your chest is glowing?” Rhi asked.

  “Uh.” Zenia looked down.

  The dragon tear that King Targyon had given her to use while in his employ lay under both her nightshirt and robe, but a faint blue glow was indeed seeping out. She glanced at the bed again, wondering if the dream could have anything to do with the gem. Her old dragon tear had never prompted odd dreams, but in the few days she’d had this one, she’d quickly come to realize it was different from the norm. More powerful and… she wasn’t sure exactly. The dragon tear almost came across as sentient.

  A faint vibration emanated from the gem.

  “Yes,” Zenia said, “it does that sometimes.”

  “Do people find it alarming?” Rhi spoke in her usual joking tone, but her brown eyes held a hint of concern.

  Had Cutter told Rhi what he’d told Zenia and Jev? That the gem, its oval surface intricately carved with the likeness of a dragon instead of a typical dagger or quill, might take on some aspects of the creature?

  “Only if they’re looking at my chest,” Zenia said, hoping if she kept her own tone light Rhi wouldn’t worry.

  “But doesn’t that happen a lot? Due to the previously mentioned perkiness?”

  “I don’t encourage it. If you’re not sure where to stay,” Zenia said to change subjects again, “my old room may be available. It’s only been a few days since I moved my things up to the castle.”

  “The room that’s actually the hayloft of a stable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Behind a farmhouse that burned down?”

  “The stable didn’t catch fire.”

  “Comforting. Any chance to get a discount on that room? Due to the view of a charred and smoldering house?”

  “I’m sure it’s stopped smoldering by now.” Zenia stepped back into her room, waving for Rhi to come in and close the door. She might as well get dressed for the day and start work. The king hadn’t yet assigned her to look for the missing dwarf master, but she expected he would soon, so she had better get a start on gathering information. One of the few dwarves living in the city, Master Grindmor was the most skilled carver of dragon tears—for those able to afford the gems and the carvings that added specificity and potency to their innate magical powers.

  A soft knock came at the door.

  “My room is popular this morning.” Zenia stepped around Rhi to open it, once again thinking it might be Jev.

  A female page of thirteen or fourteen stood in the hallway holding a silver tray with an envelope on it. The edges were curled up as if it had been rolled like a scroll at some point.

  One of the castle’s ubiquitous guards stood next to the page, frowning deeply as he looked at Zenia.

  “Is there a problem?” She lifted her chin, prepared to defend herself if need be. Only a second later did Rhi’s words come to mind, making her realize the expression might be construed as unapproachable.

  “Inappropriate delivery of mail,” the guard said. “Messages are to be delivered to the post room for inspection, not shot over the castle wall tied around an arrow.”

  Zenia stared at the envelope, understanding the curl to the paper now, if not why it had been sent that way.

  “Are you going to punish her?” Rhi asked dryly from behind Zenia. “Because I’m not sure she appreciates spanking as much as I do.”

  The guard’s mouth dropped open, his sternness shifting to surprise, then contemplation as he met Rhi’s eyes, her smirk slightly inviting.

  “It’s addressed to me?” Zenia asked.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The page lifted the tray.

  “Did you see the person who, uhm, shot the arrow?” Zenia asked the guard.

  “I wasn’t walking the parapet when it happened, but Sergeant Dakru was and said he didn’t see who did it. The person must have worn dark clothing and shot the bow when it was still full night. He found the arrow sticking out of a crack in the mortar in one of the crenellations. He didn’t think it had been there for long but couldn’t be positive.”

  “I see. And it’s been inspected?”

  “No, ma’am,” the guard said. “Seeing as how you’re captain of the Crown Agents now…” His lips twisted. Did he not approve?

  Her chin twitched upward again before she could stop it.

  “It’s usually someone from your office that gets all the suspicious mail anyway,” the guard said. “And this is suspicious.” He turned his disapproving frown toward the tray.

  “I agree.” Zenia used the tips of her thumb and forefinger to lift the envelope. She had read two-thirds of the thick Crown Agents’ handbook and remembered seeing a section on the appropriate protocol for handling and searching suspicious mail, but she hadn’t yet read the section.

  “Afraid it’s poisoned?” Rhi asked. “I don’t think you’ve worked here long enough to irk people into wanting to poison you and get you out of the way. Unless the elven ambassador counts. I bet he wants you dead. I rode past the embassy the other day. Almost all of the courtyard garden burned down.”

  “Yes, thank you, Rhi.” Zenia gave her friend a quelling look, then nodded to the page and the guard. “And thank you. I’ll handle it from here.”

  The page recognized a dismissal and scurried away without hesitation. The guard was another matter. He frowned at the envelope dangling from her fingers and looked like he wanted to follow it into her room.

  Zenia stepped back and closed the door firmly. He didn’t stop her.

  She turned and took the envelope to the dresser where her wash basin, brush, and a small folded piece of paper rested. The last mysterious message she had received.

  “Think it’s from the same person?” Rhi trailed her over and nodded to the old message, the one that had warned Zenia to keep an eye on Lunis Drem.

  Zenia had received it too late for it to be useful, but she’d kept it, wondering who had sent it. Rhi had picked it up at the temple and brought it to Zenia in the castle, so she knew all about it.

  “The writing looks similar, doesn’t it?” Rhi waved at the name on the front of the envelope, Captain Zenia Cham.

  “We’ll find out.”

  Zenia gingerly opened the envelope. If it had come from the same person, she didn’t suspect poison, but being careful couldn’t hurt.

  The message inside contained only three words: ‘Ware the wealthy.

  Rhi, reading over her shoulder, grunted. “File that under obvious.”

  Zenia gazed down at the words, not finding anything obvious in the message at all. She was positive it wasn’t some vague fortune teller’s warning but a hint about a crime. Something to do with Master Grindmor’s disappearance? Or something related to a crime she hadn’t yet heard about?

  “The writing is definitely the same.” Rhi pointed at the new message and then the old.

  Not only was the elegant writing the same, but both messages had been penned in blue ink on the same unadorned beige stationery. Unfortunately, the stationery was unremarkable, and she doubted going hunting for the store that had sold it would be easy.

  “Yes,” Zenia said.

  “Any idea who would want to send you clues?”

  “No.”

  2

  Jev set the axe aside and helped his father lift the freshly hewn rail into the top position on the fence they were repairing. The sun had been up for less than an hour, but the day promised to be hot. He and the old man were shirtless, sweat dripping down their chests, and Jev already longed to run up to the pond beside the castle and fling himself into it. If he gave in to the urge, he had no doubt his father would sneer and imply it was a sign of weakness to want to coo
l off. Jev was in good shape, but he admitted he hadn’t fully reacclimatized to Kor after his years at war in the chillier northern forests of Taziira.

  “How long you staying?” Father asked as they picked up another long rail.

  “I can’t stay long. It’s a work day, so I have to head to the office after I meet with the comrades I invited out.” Men Jev had worked with in the army—and that Cutter had also known. He hoped one of them had seen Cutter more recently than he had and had an idea where he’d gone. Or had been taken.

  “Office,” Father grunted. “Sitting at a desk. There was a time when zyndar spent their days out on the battlefields, practicing at arms. That and keeping up the estate were their only duties. Now, they sit at desks and shuffle papers around.”

  “Sometimes, I sit on the papers and shuffle the desks. To keep it interesting.”

  His father skewered him with a hard look. Someday, Jev would learn to rein in his wit around the old man. Heber Dharrow, zyndar prime and overseer of the family and all their land, always seemed like he’d come from the previous century rather than the previous generation. Maybe it was because he had married late and more than forty years in age separated them.

  Jev had never learned the art of conversing with his father without feeling awkward and uncomfortable. And they were picking up right where they’d left off when Jev had sailed away from home ten years earlier. He wouldn’t be out here at all if not for something he desperately needed to discuss with the old man.

  “I’m surprised you came home last night when you’ve got to go back to the castle this morning.” Father eyed him shrewdly.

  “I wanted to talk to you about something,” Jev admitted as they picked up their axes to hew more rails.