(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters Read online

  Dragons blasting down Sun Temples, sun priests invading the palace, nothing to report.

  High priest S’Rak successfully prevented his brother’s assassination and discovered, to his delight, that Captain Jisten wasn’t under a vow of purity after all. But nothing is as simple as it should be, and the prince’s health continues to decline, and discovering the cause stirs up far worse trouble than anyone expected.

  While Jisten might not be under a vow of purity, it stands to reason that a sun priest should be, but that doesn’t seem to bother S’Rak’s enemies. When the high priest appears powerless to stop the senior sun priest’s abuses, allowing himself to be victimized for the sake of the Victory Prophecy, the captain takes matters into his own hands.

  He has a good crossbow, the help of a Goddess, and a dragon. What could possibly go wrong?

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  Midnight Matters

  Copyright © 2013 AC Ellas

  ISBN: 978-1-77111-484-4 Cover art by Angela Waters All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by eXtasy Books

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  www.eXtasybooks.com Midnight Matters

  Dark Servant Book Seven

  By

  AC Ellas

  For fandom.

  Chapter One: Morning Muster

  Erday, the 37th of Evphormon Jisten stretched in the bed and immediately realized that he was naked. He snapped into a ball and patted the matress. No sleeping suit. Alarm chased away the vestiges of sleep and he clutched the blanket to himself as he looked for his clothes. His uniform was neatly folded on the side table, a black rose lying atop the fabric. He leaned over and snagged his clothing, not exposing himself even though he was alone.

  He dressed with Goddess-given speed. “S’Rak?” he called out. He checked the bathroom and it was as empty as the bedroom. All that remained of Rak’s presence was that black rose, now fallen to the floor. He picked it up, inhaled the sweet fragrance, and carefully tucked it into his breast pocket. He prayed that he hadn’t offended the high priest, although the rose was a positive sign.

  Jisten strode out into the corridor and through the secret passage into the tavern room, irritably shoving his hair into a ponytail. He looked particularly pitiful to the men eating breakfast as he anxiously searched the dining room.

  Sedrael and Kal were feeding each other breakfast in a sickeningly sweet scene. The other couples there were enjoying each other’s company also, if not in such a sweet way. Sed looked at Jisten with pity in his eyes. “Th’ dark one left early. Not even midnight when he ran outta here like bein’ chased. Said t’was rites, but he na’ come back.”

  Emotions chased through Jisten, anger, despair, worry, hurt, and he hoped that none of it was apparent on his face. Posture rigid, he nodded curtly. “Thank you, Sedrael. I expect everyone at morning muster.” He paused significantly. “On time.”

  “Yes, sir!” echoed around the room. Jisten strode to the stable, wondering if he would have to walk back to the palace, completing his humiliation, but Zala nickered a greeting at him and pranced out of her stall. Jisten scratched behind her ears. “Thanks, girl. I would hate to walk back.”

  Zala sent a stream of images to Jisten, mainly of them riding and killing things. Jisten saddled her and put on the bitless bridle. “We’ll do that soon, girl. A hunt that the flies won’t ruin.”

  Zala was content and blew smoke at Jisten lovingly. Jisten kissed her long muzzle and then swung into the saddle. “Back to the palace. I have to beat all the men there for morning muster.”

  The grey avtappi trotted out smartly and Jisten’s chagrin eased at the joy of riding her.

  * * * * The guards assembled in time for the morning muster, though Jisten beat them all there, thanks to Zala, who was now lounging in the courtyard behind him. He stalked up and down the lines, inspecting. He wasn’t unfair, but his eye was more critical than usual.

  The rumors were flying thick. Whenever his back turned, the whispers sprang up. “Is it true the Capt’n lost his virginity?”

  “What did you say?” Jisten whirled on a hapless guard.

  “I said, fine morning, sir!” “I see.” Jisten remained suspicious, but he resumed his inspection. “Morning run. Three miles. Fall out.”

  The men stifled their groans. They jogged the perimeter road, and Jisten effortlessly paced them. Zala trotted along beside them all, snorting smoke as she matched their cadence exactly, causing some chuckles and envious glances. Despite the avtappi’s antics, Jisten was still displeased by the end of the run, but to the men’s obvious relief, a messenger from the palace said that the prince was calling for him. He dismissed his men to their usual duties and entered the palace.

  * * * * “I am so tired of this bed! Forael healed me two days ago! When can I get up?” Jethain’s expression was peevish and his tone exasperated. He was sitting propped up on a mountain of pillows against the carved wooden headboard. The room was a royal mess with tables overturned and scattered knick-knacks lying in broken pieces across the wooden floorboards.

  “When S’Rak says you can. What happened in here?” The lack of bloodstains or other overt signs of mayhem reassured Jisten that whatever happened, it hadn’t been serious. It appeared like the pages had staged a battle in here, using ornaments as artillery and tables as barricades.

  “I don’t know,” said Jethain, scowling at the mess. “I must have slept through the party. Which is very unfair, you know. If there’s going to be a party in my room, I at least want to be awake for it!”

  Frowning, Jisten sat on the bed next to the prince and took his pulse. “How do you feel?”

  “Tired,” said Jethain. “Weak. But doesn’t lying in bed make one weaker? Let me up!”

  “I would think that you would feel better by now. How does your gut feel?” Jisten put his hand on the prince’s forehead. The prince’s skin was cool and clammy. He looked around the room. “It looks a like a fight took place in here. Were you hurt? Do you remember anything at all?”

  “Like I said, nothing happened that I remember, and I’m not injured any more than I already was, but I feel queasy,” admitted Jethain. “And I’m hungry, too, which is real misery, let me tell you! I’m starving and I dare not eat!”

  “Dare not eat?” Jisten said. “You’re allowed soup. Has no one brought hot chicken soup? Or have you only been brought that awful cold stuff?”

  “I’m nauseated, Jisten! I want one of Araken’s mint tonics,” whined the prince. “And tell him to let me out of bed!”

  “I think that you should have a mint tonic, too. I’ll send a message to the archpriest and then fetch S’Rak. I pray he has some idea of what happened in here.” Jisten scribbled a note on the ever present parchment by Jethain’s bedside.

  “Thank you,” said Jethain, partially mollified. “I’ll ask my
mother to send her soup,” Jisten said and scribbled another note. He rang for the page and handed him the messages. Gill glanced at the names jotted on the outside of the notes, nodded once, and shot off at a good pace. “I’ll return with S’Rak.” Jisten continued. “Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

  Jethain shook his head. He gripped Jisten’s arm in a too-weak grasp. “Thank you, Jisten. I knew I could count on you.”

  Jisten patted his hand, allowing his concern to show on his face. “Prince, prince, stay the course. All will be made right. We have an ally now. A powerful one.” He sincerely hoped that he hadn’t ruined it.

  Jethain smiled. “Yes. My brother. Please hurry?”

  Jisten saluted, then strode out, his long legs eating the distance.

  * * * *

  Jisten knocked on the door to Rak’s suite. Tebber opened the door.

  “Tebber, sorry to bother you, but I have urgent need of S’Rak.” “You’re always welcome here, sir, but S’Rak isn’t here. He came in for the midnight rite, told me he had something to take care of, and ran out. Haven’t seen him since. But it’s early yet.”

  “Thank you, Tebber. I’ll check the stable, if he’s not here.” Jisten turned on his booted heel and strode just as quickly away.

  “Good idea, sir. S’Rak loves the stable,” Tebber told Jisten’s back. Jisten fretted as his boots echoed down the marble hallways. Suite, stable, tavern. If Rak wasn’t in any of those places, he was out of ideas.

  Bharis met him at the entrance to the barn where S’Rak’s avtappi were kept. “He’s sleepin’ in Vyld’s stall. Beast won’t let us near him.”

  “Do you have any meat scraps?” Jisten asked. “Aye that. He wouldn’t take any from us, but maybe you’ll have better luck.” Bharis whistled, and in short order, Jisten had the bucket of scraps.

  Zala nickered a greeting as Jisten walked down to the far end of the row. She let herself out of her stall and pranced up to the captain, neck arched and tail flagged. Vyld snorted from the confines of his own stall, making no effort to join the mare.

  “Hello again, milady,” Jisten greeted Zala and offered her a handful of scraps, watching Vyld out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t see Rak, but he couldn’t see the entire stall from where he stood.

  Zala daintily accepted the treats and then pushed Jisten in the small of his back, directing him closer to Vyld’s stall door. Jisten was glad for her push. He opened the door and offered a handful of meat to Vyld. “Here now, Vyld. I’ve come to say hello to you and S’Rak.”

  Vyld snorted imperiously. Exiting the stall, he plucked the meat out of Jisten’s hand and shoved the Valer into the stall. Rak was curled up in the straw under the manger, completely covered by cats. Morth was being used as a pillow and was half covered with cats himself. There were even cats on Rak’s wings.

  “S’Rak? Are you okay?” Jisten knelt down and touched Rak lightly. Cats meowed in sleepy protest, but Rak stirred at his touch. “Mmm, Jisten… it is too early. Go back to bed.”

  “But, don’t you want to be in bed? The stable floor might have straw, but it’s cold and hard.” Jisten massaged Rak’s shoulder.

  “Stable? What?” Rak shifted, sitting up, dislodging a dozen protesting cats. They turned and wound about him, and he shushed them absently, stroking arching backs. He blinked several times in the manner of one not awake.

  “You left me,” Jisten winced. He hated sounding like a farm girl. “And now you’re sleeping on the stable floor. There is evidence of a rucus in Jethain’s bedroom, but he’s unharmed and there’s no blood. Do you know anything about that?”

  “I do not remember.” Rak yawned. “I left for the midnight rite, but I was planning to return to you. I do not know what happened between then and now. Are you okay? I did not mean to leave you.”

  “It’s odd that you fell asleep and don’t remember anything. Jethain said the same thing, actually,” Jisten said dubiously. “You must be hurt. Let me check you.”

  “Of course,” said Rak. “That is a good idea. I should not have fallen asleep.” He gracefully stood and stripped.

  “Oh!” Jisten positioned himself between Rak and the stall door. Vyld nickered in reassurance while Jisten felt Rak’s forehead and then his pulse. He resisted the urge to run his hands all over the lithe body and focused on finding new injuries. When Jisten slid his hand to the back of Rak’s head, he felt a thick mat of crusting. He gently explored the very large area and said, “S’Rak, there’s a lot dried blood here. Thank the sunset that the stable shields held, but they’re especially strong in the large foaling boxes like this one. Let me see how deep it is. Lie down again.”

  Rak lay down with another yawn. “I have a headache. I need café.” He looked up at Jisten and his lips curved upwards in appreciation for the view.

  There was a large lump and a long cut. Jisten probed to make sure it wasn’t a long, deep cut. He felt Rak’s pulse again in a fussy manner. Rak winced once or twice, but otherwise was remarkably calm about the injury and the blood. He seemed more interested in catching Jisten’s fingers to kiss.

  “Let’s return to your suite,” Jisten said. “For café and a bath, and to dress this wound.” Rak stretched, spreading his fuzzy wings, which brushed against the sides of the stall. He shooed the cats off his clothing. “I am sorry I did not come back last night. It was last night, ai?”

  “Yes,” Jisten said. “And now it’s second hour. Best to get dressed.” Rak’s wings tangled in the tunic. A muffled curse issued forth from the depths of the fabric.

  Jisten smoothed the wings through. “Cat hair, bah.” He swished some off. Rak got his head through the hole and smiled sheepishly. “Cats are strangely attracted to me, and their fur adheres to my wings no matter what I try.”

  “All the more reason for a bath.” Jisten steered Rak out once the Loftoni was dressed. The cat hair bothered him more and more.

  Chapter Two: Hair of the Cat that Clung

  Rak walked quickly to his suite, looking forward to what was to come. A bath? Wing-oiling? Sex was inevitable.

  “Jethain is well settled with my best guards on him. Forael and my mother’s soup are on the way for him,” Jisten said. “Unless you’ve had another vision of more assassins.”

  “Not at the moment,” said Rak. “I will tell you if that changes.” As they walked, Jisten twitched cat hair off Rak’s wings. Rak shivered happily each time Jisten’s hand brushed against his sensitive wings. Jisten stopped when they entered the palace, but he kept shooting looks at Rak’s fur covered wings.

  Rak sighed softly in disappointment and muttered, “Stupid Koilathan prejudices.”

  “I agree,” Jisten said. “There would none of that in Valer Square. We must go there soon. I want you to meet my people. We would be…comfortable there.”

  Rak nodded. “I would like that.” A lesser noble stepped out of a side corridor as they passed, so Rak said, “As an envoy, I should make an effort to learn more about the peoples who live in this land.”

  “As is proper, S’Rak,” Jisten said with equal formality. The noble cleared his throat. Rak glanced at him. “Do you need something?”

  Jisten stopped when Rak did, standing at attention, hand on his sword hilt.

  “I just wondered if you realized that every cat in the palace is following you.” Rak and Jisten looked back at the feline procession. Jisten raised one eyebrow.

  “They do that,” Rak told the noble, his expression and tone those of long-term suffering. “It is because I am Thezi. The cats at home do the same thing. If you can find a solution to this problem that does not involve killing or harming them, I would reward you richly.”

  The noble laughed. He took a piece of sausage out of his pocket, knelt and held it out. Three cats proved interested. The rest did not. He shrugged and said, “It was worth a try. Good day, Prince Araken.”

  “Good day, and night’s blessing on you.” Rak watched him leave. “One of Prince Jethain’s supporters,” Ji
sten said. “Not that I needed to tell you that.”

  Rak nodded. “I guessed as much.” He opened the door to the suite. “Polite, at least.”

  Jisten waited for Rak to enter and followed him inside. Tebber presented Rak with a mug of café. Rak accepted it with a smile. “How did you know?” He took a long drink.

  “Tebber always knows,” Jisten intoned. “Indeed he does,” said Rak. He continued on towards the bathroom, still drinking the café. “Would you draw a bath for me, Tebber? I am covered with cat hair. And Captain Jisten is going to do something about the blood in my hair, he says.”

  “Blood?” Tebber looked suitably alarmed. “Dried. Small cut,” Jisten replied immediately and Tebber nodded, but his brow remained furrowed in concern.

  “I have warded this suite against the flies,” reminded Rak. “In addition to the palace shields. And you have a fly amulet.”

  “Habit,” Tebber said.

  “A good habit not to break until we leave for home,” said Rak. Tebber walked into Rak’s bedroom. Soon the sound of water being drawn was faintly heard.

  “Please tell me that you remember the events of last night,” said Rak, almost plaintively. He had enjoyed Jisten’s love-making and was tired of him not remembering it.

  Jisten rubbed the back of his neck. “What sort of events?” A blush started on his neck and traveled upwards.

  “The sort that make you blush,” said Rak with a wicked grin.

  Jisten chuckled nervously. “You enjoyed it,” he offered.

  “Very much. As did you, I pray.” Rak offered a hand. Jisten clasped it, then raised it to his lips and kissed each fingertip, gaze fixed on Rak. “More than you. I had the better partner.”

  Rak’s smile, and happiness, deepened with each kiss. “I disagree with you there. You gave me everything I wanted.” They drifted towards the bathroom.

  “You gave me more than I ever dreamed,” Jisten countered. “Then we were both well satisfied.” Rak pulled Jisten’s head down and kissed him soundly.

  “Then again,” Jisten said when he came up for air. “At the moment, I am deeply dissatisfied.”