(The Dark Servant)Midnight Matters

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