Chapter 37 The veiled queen
Chapter 37 The veiled queen
“State your business, envoy,” Fenris growled, his voice low. “Before I decide your skin would make a better rug than that tattered robe your wearing.”
Boyce straightened his tunic, pushing out his chest. “Jaxon is tired of waiting. The south is suffering a minor inconvenience. A blight, our seer says we need the northern frost iron to set the balance right.”
“Jaxon wants ten crates of the raw ore delivered to the border by the next moon. Consider it a tax for the peace we have allowed you to enjoy all these years.”
“A tax?” Fenris' laughter was a dark, dangerous sound. “The south is rotting, Boyce. I can smell the black bile on your breaths from here. You aren't demanding a tax, you are begging for a life line.”
“We beg for nothing,” Boyce snapped. “We are the shadow fang. Give us the iron and maybe Jaxon won't decide to come up here and take it.
“While you are at it, tell your concubine to stop staring. Even through the veil, I can feel her desperation. It's pathetic. She's probably just another low born stray looking for a crown.”
The veiled woman turned her head a little. The only movement she made was the diamonds of her veil clattering softly, sounding like falling needles.
"She doesn't need to speak to dogs," Fenris said, his eyes glowing, “And she certainly doesn't answer to the errand boys of a failing Alpha.”
“She's a silent one. That is good.” Boyce smirked. He became bold by the fact that the woman didn't defend herself.
He looked directly at the diamond veil. “Listen, sweetheart, if you want a real man, the South has plenty.”
“Once Jaxon fixes the land with your king's iron, maybe we'll find a place for you in the kitchen. You would look better in cotton than that silk that you stole.”
The silence from the woman was loud, it wasn't the silence of someone who couldn't talk, but that of a lion watching her prey. “You have your answer, Boyce,” Fenris said, standing up.
Just the physical presence of the king seemed to fill the room, making boyce look smaller by the second. “The North does not give its blood to the South.”
“If Jaxon wants the iron, tell him to come dig it out of the frozen earth himself. But remind him, the dead lands have a way of keeping what is buried there.”
“You are refusing,” boyce face turned white “You are choosing to starve us over a few crate of rocks.”
“I am choosing to watch you wither,” Fenris replied.
Boyce pointed a finger at Fenris. “You will regret this. Jaxon will hear that you choose your concubine's jewels over a treaty. He will burn this place to the ground.”
Without warning, the temperature in the room dropped. A thin layer of ice ran across the floor, encasing Boyce boots. He gasped, stumbling back as an invisible weight pressed against his chest.
The woman on the throne hadn't moved a finger, but the air around her was vibrating with a cold energy.
“Leave,” Fenris commanded, “before my queen decides your presence has insulted her enough.”
“Queen?” Boyce scoffed, even as he struggled to move his frozen feet. “She's a nameless girl behind a curtain. You are a fool Fenris, you are letting a woman rule your heart.”
The atmosphere had shifted from a freezing cold to something worse. Boyce stood holding a glass of Northern Cidar he had taken from the side table earlier.
He had hoped that the wine would settle his nerves, but the drink was shaking too much.
To cover up for his fear, he leaned into his arrogance, pushing out his chest as he looked at the silent, veiled figure beside Fenris.
“I asked you a question, Fenris,” Boyce said, his voice cracking as it echoed. “Are you going to let this? This silent thing dictates the terms of our survival, or has she finally found a way to bewitch the mad king into total silence?”
Boyce raised the glass, taking a sip of bitter cold liquid. He sneered at the diamond veil.
“I bet she's not even a wolf, probably some human pet you found shivering in a ravine. She doesn't even have the courage to show herself to a true beta.”
Fenris didn't move. He simply sat down, a dark smile playing on his lips. Then the air vibrated. It was a deep hum that made the floor beneath Boyce groan.
“The south has forgotten its place,” the woman said.
It seemed to come from the ice walls, the ceiling, and Boyce's bones. It was the zenith voice amplified by the cold rage of the queen who had heard enough.
Who said that,” Boyce stammered ? His eyes darting round the empty hall.
“I am the heart of the north,” the veiled woman replied.
As she spoke, the frequency became sharo. It became a high pitched sound that by passed his ear and struck directly at his brain.
Boyce let out a strangled cry. He held the side of his head as a sharp pain erupted in his left ear. A thin line of dark blood began to lick from his ear, staining his golden tunic.
“Stop it,” Boyce screamed, his knees shaking. “What is this? What are you doing?”
The woman on the throne leaned forward slightly. “You come into my home,” she said, her voice so heavy it felt like a physical weight on him.
“You insult my king. You demand the blood of the north to fix a land you poisoned with your own greed. And you think your Alpha's name is a shield?”
Boyce tried to raise the glass, his fingers white around it. “Jaxon…Jaxon will kill you for this. He will…”
CRACK
The glass in Boyce's hand shattered, pieces of glass flying around, slicing into his palms and cheeks. The cedar fell on the floor, freezing instantly.
Boyce fell to his knees, holding his bleeding hands and his bleeding ear. He looked at the veiled woman, his eyes wide with fear.
“There will be no iron,” she said. “There will be no blacksmith, and there will be no peace.”
“You… you cant.” Boyce wheezed, the air around her making it difficult for him to breathe.
“Go back to your alpha,” she commanded. “Tell him that the north does not negotiate with thieves. Tell him that every step he takes towards our border is a step towards his own grave. And tell him…”
She paused for a second, the silver light behind the veil shone so bright it blinded him. “Tell him the northern witch is looking forward to meeting him on the field. The frost iron he seeks is not for his land, it is for his casket.”
Fenris stood up, his huge shadow falling over the broken envoy. “You heard my queen, southern dog run before I decide to see if your blood freezes as quickly as your courage.”
The invincible pressure suddenly released him. He scrambled to his feet, his dignity completely stripped away, slipping on the ice floor as ran out of the hall, leaving a trail of blood behind him.