Chapter 36 The desperate envoy

Chapter 36 The desperate envoy

He was Jaxon’s right hand man, his best friend, and also his beta. He was the man who had personally overseen the disposal of the various defect that had failed the Alpha over the years.

He had especially hated Astraea, the way she looked at him with those quiet eyes, as if she were a queen trapped in a beggar’s body.

He was glad she was dead at the bottom of a ravine, but he was angry to be standing at the gates of the frost citadel because of the curse she had left behind

“Halt!” the voice came from a shadow. Two northern sentinels, wearing black armor that seemed to absorb the dim light, stepped out of the first, their eyes glowing a predatory blue color.

“I am Boyce, envoy of the Shadow fang, beta to Alpha Jaxon,” Boyce shouted, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.

“I demand entry to see the Mad King. We have matters of trade and resources to discuss. Urgent matters.”

The guards didn’t move. One of them tilted his head, his voice a low growl. “The king is occupied. He does not discuss with southern runt.”

“Occupied?” Boyce sneered. stepping forward, “Do you know who my alpha is? Jaxon is the sun of the South, the sovereign king. We are here to request.”

“No, to demand access to your northern frost iron, our seer has decreed it necessary for our altars. Now move aside before I lose my patience.”

The guard's laughter was a dry cackle sound, like leaves moving on the floor. “Your patience is of no concern to the north.”

“You may wait in the outer hall for the king. If the king finds himself bored enough to see a dog from the south, he will send for you.”

The outer hall of the frost Citadel was a frozen room. There was no hearth, no warm rugs and certainly no wine. The floor was a single seamless slab of translucent blue ice that reflected Boyce shivering body.

Hours passed then half a day.

Boyce paced the hall. Every time he moved towards the huge doors that led to the inner sanctum, a pair of swords would drop blocking his path without a word.

“This is an insult,” Boyce shouted to the unmoving guard. “I have been waiting here for hours. My Alpha expects a response. We require the iron to stop the blight. Do you want your neighbors to starve is that your king's policy?.”

A Northern steward, a thin man with skin the color white paper came forward. He carried no food. Only a small bowl of melted snow.

“The king is currently in the star tower.” the steward stated flatly, observing the celestial alignment. “He will not be disturbed for trivialities.”

“Trivialities,” voice grabbed the steward by his collar. “My land is dying, our crops are ash. We need the iron to connect the goddess back to the soil. Tell Fenris that if he doesn't see me now, Jaxon will consider this a declaration of war.”

The steward didn't flinch. He simply looked down at Boyce hand until the beta let him go.

“War requires strength, envoy.” the steward said quietly. “The south currently smells of rot and weakness. Our king finds the scent offending. You will wait.”

Boyce slumped against a pillar, his pride breaking. He thought of the way he used to kick Astraea when she was too slow to bring his water.

He thought of the way they had laughed as she tumbled into the dark. Now, he was the one begging for scraps in a kingdom that didn't even acknowledge his existence.

“I won't leave,” Boyce hissed to the empty freezing hall. “I will sit here until the ice claims me. The shadow fang pack needs that iron and I will be damned if I go back empty handed because of a mad king who wanted to look at the stars.”

He sat on the frozen floor, his teeth chattering. Unaware that high above him in the star tower, two sets of eyes, one gold, one silver, were watching his every move through a crystal ball.

“He looks cold,” a feminine voice whispered.

“He's a southern weed in a Northern storm.” A deep voice replied. “Let him freeze a little longer, Astraea. I want him to fully understand the weight of the iron he wants.

Boyce shivered, pulling his furs tighter around him, not knowing that the "dead girl" was the one deciding exactly how long he would stay in the dark.

#. #. #. #. #.

The huge doors of the Great Hall groaned open. Boyce, marched in with a swagger, that was a desperate attempt to stay warm than a show of true confidence.

He had spent the day shivering in the outer hall, his southern pride curling into a bitter icy resentment. He was used to the warmth of the shadow fang.

The smell of blooming jasmine, and the sound of Omega's running to fulfill his every desire. Here, he was nothing but a nuisance in the hall of ice.

As he reached the middle of the room, he stopped and looked up. The sight was enough to make a lesser man run. High up on his throne, sat Fenris, the mad king.

He was a mountain of muscles, draped in the furs of the Great Bear, his dark eyes burning with a volcanic heat.

But it was the person that sat beside him that drew the eyes and Boyce immediate scorn. Seated on a twin throne of rough sapphire was a woman.

She was wearing a shining star silk that fell down her shoulders like a frozen waterfall. Her face, however, was completely covered by a veil made of thousands of tiny interlocking diamonds.

It caught the dim blue light of the hall, shining with a heavenly brightness that made it impossible to see a single feature of the face beneath.

Boyce stopped at the front of the platform. He did not bow. “Finally,” Boyce spat, his voice echoing through the room.

“I was beginning to think that you had frozen to death watching the stars, Fenris. Or perhaps you were too busy playing house with your new toy.”

Fenris didn't move a muscle, but the air around him began to heat as his shadow heat rose.

“You are in the presence of the North. Envoy, mind your tongue or I will let the frost take it.”

Boyce laughed, a harsh rough sound. He turned his eyes to the veiled woman, his lips turning into a sneer.

“I see you have found yourself a northern concubine to keep the bed warm. A bit flashier than the ones Jaxon keep.”

“I'll admit, but a bit much with the diamonds. Don't you think she's hiding a scar? Or is she just hideous? Usually, the ones you find in the north aren't much to look at.”

The woman on the throne remained perfectly still. She didn't flinch, she didn't gasp, neither did she offer a single word. She sat with a regal, terrifying silence, her gloved hand resting motionlessly on the throne armrest.