The Alpha's Temptation

Chapter 16 Nyxers

Eltanin's chamber at Blue Crystal was large and neatly arranged. A wide oak table sat in the center over a soft rug, over a polished wooden floor and mahogany-scented walls. There were two flags on the wall bearing the royal insignia as well as portraits of his ancestors behind his chair. An orange tree sat in a large golden pot beside the arched window.

All the councilors worked from Blue Crystal, their duties including security and the enforcement of the King's laws. Even though, in most kingdoms, the councilors worked from their own residences where they had special office chambers or libraries, Eltanin insisted that his people worked in one place. That way he could keep an eye on their activities and time was saved.

When Eltanin reached his chambers, he immersed himself in his work so much that he hoped he stopped thinking about his Fae, yet the moment he would sit idle, his mind was occupied with her thoughts. He wondered what it would be to kiss her lips again. He was restless to go back to the guest bedroom where he had pinned her beneath him and wedge himself between her. Feeling a hundred kinds of anxious and helpless, he paced his chamber, skipped lunch and then sat down at his table to work. He opened a book of laws and then furiously began writing notes. When he sat back and read it, it was a rendering of the word Fae scrawled all over the page.

Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae T Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae T Fae Fae T Fae

Fae Fae T Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae T Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae Fae

He had written that over and over and over again. Humiliation set in. He crushed the papers and was about to throw them in the trash when he just crumbled the papers more and stashed them in his jacket's pockets.

"Your Highness?" A servant said who was standing with his meals, and Eltanin realized that he was staring at the blank pages.

As he wound down for the evening, Fafnir entered his chamber. Tossing on the table the last document for the day, a political treaty with the Kingdom of Eridanus, he asked, "What is going on in the west province? I heard reports of disturbances."

There was a moment of tense silence followed by a sigh.

Anger rippled down his spine. "Talk to me!" he barked.

"Dziban was found dead in his mansion this morning," Fafnir said.

Stunned by this sudden and impossible news, Eltanin became silent. Dziban, one of his five Generals, had joined him in so many battles, so many he could not care to remember, and was one of the most trusted members of his clan.

"A servant found him." Fafnir explained, "lying on the floor in a pool of his own blood." _{ρꪖꪕᦔꪖꪕꪫꪣꫀ​ꪶ​}

Fafnir's speech faltered. The pain of loss was so strong, facing it head on was hard. Dziban was separated from his wife and children, and to protect himself from his own emotions, he often drank excessively. But when it came to the job at hand, he was a fearless General in battle.

"The healers are unable to ascertain the circumstances of his death. It didn't look like he was attacked, but it certainly wasn't a case of suicide, either. The guards and my spies are searching his house for clues." There was another pause. "Felis's demon werewolves got him, Your Highness. They are here in the Draka Kingdom and somehow attacked Dziban."

A cold chill skittered down Eltanin's spine as his eyes grew wide. His mind started to process the implications. Felis had reared his head once more, having sworn to annihilate and destroy Eltanin — and all his people and the progress he had made — which would plunge Araniea back into the dark ages.

Felis called his men Nyxers — the bringers of death and gloom. They were a relentless scourge and Eltanin's worst nightmares personified. He wanted to keep his people safe from the Nyxers and had killed many of them, but like the Hydra, they returned in greater numbers every single time. It was said that in the Hydra Kingdom there were rarely any women, and whatever women there were, were used for breeding by the Nyxers.

"How can you say that Dziban was murdered by Nyxers?" asked Eltanin.

"They left a cryptic message in an ancient language, which my spies are still working on." He dug into his pocket and took out a small piece of parchment. He rolled it out on the table. As he examined it, Fafnir pointed at the parchment, saying, "This is what they wrote with his blood on the rug. Their style. They also wrote something on his forehead." He dug out another paper and lay it on the table.

"Bloody fuckers!"Pure rage mingled with grief, which overrode his logic. Eltanin got up from his chair and paced his room. He really needed a scribe from the Cetus Monastery urgently.

He needed to take control of the situation, to annihilate the Nyxers forever. None of that, however, would bring back his trusted General. All that was left for him to do with Dziban was to mourn his death and save those still alive.

A ragged breath escaped him as a shudder passed through his body. "After your spies have found a lead, make sure that General Dziban gets a proper state funeral." He took a deep breath and continued. "Make sure that your spies search everywhere and everything. I want to know every detail of their investigation. I am sure his wife would want to know about them, too. Also, don't tell anyone that it was Nyxers who did it. His body should be wiped clean of the ancient marks and so should the rug."

"I am on it!" said Fafnir, turning to leave.

"Fafnir!" Eltanin called him, forcing him to halt. "I want you to alert the remaining Generals and give me a list of suitable wolves who can replace him."

"I will do that."

When Fafnir left, Eltanin squared his shoulders. This was a horrifying situation. A General of a province found murdered was going to rattle the trust of his subjects. Unacceptable. Dziban's loss was devastating, not only personally but nationally. He was an asset, and a very difficult one at that to replace.

Eltanin held the edges of his table and hung his head. Was he responsible for Dziban's death? Guilt bore into his soul. His father had repeatedly told him to marry and take a wife to strengthen his beast, and yet he had never taken his words seriously.