Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)
Chapter Eleven...

By the time Elda was half way through cleaning the silky black feathers, Sypher’s tension abated enough for him to lean back against the side of the bath. She watched his head dip under the weight of exhaustion. She kept gently wiping away the mud even after he fell asleep, careful to check beneath each quill for hidden dirt. The salve helped to mend the damage, and the sleep seemed to work even better. Beneath her hands, the fine bones that were splintered and broken began to fuse back together.

Elda couldn’t help running her fingers over the gorgeous plumage, fascinated by how impossibly soft each frond felt against her palms. When all the feathers were smoothed down, she leaned forwards to look at his face. Sypher’s head was bowed, tilting to rest on his shoulder. Even from that angle, she could see the ridge between his brows as he dreamt of something troubling. She felt strangely sad, knowing he couldn’t replace peace even in his sleep.

“Sypher,” she whispered softly. He didn’t move. She tried again, louder this time, but he still didn’t wake. Chewing her lip, she reached out hesitantly, afraid that if she touched him and he panicked, he’d snap her neck there and then.

Her fingers stopped an inch from his bare shoulder when her eyes fell on the washcloth. It sat on the side of the basin, cool enough that it might rouse him, but not so cold that it would startle him. She picked it up, keeping it between her skin and his to tap his shoulder. He sat up quickly and looked around, scanning the space for danger. Elda held her hands up, palms out to show she meant no harm. It took a second before he relaxed.

“How long was I asleep?” he asked eventually.

“An hour or two. Long enough for me to clean you up.” Elda dropped the cloth into the bath. “Does rest always help you heal so quickly?”

“Depends how deep the sleep is,” he shrugged, standing to stretch one wing out experimentally. Elda’s eyes fell on the leather chord around his neck when his pendant caught the light.

“What’s that?”

He looked down and cocked his head. “I don’t know.” He unfastened it and tossed it to her so she could study the smooth, ancient metal.

“If you don’t know what it is, why do you have it?”

“It was in my hand when I woke up for the first time.” He washed the rest of the dirt from his skin while she ran her fingers over the broken edge. The once jagged pendant was rounded by time, indentations that might have been runes once reduced to faint pits in the metal.

“You really kept it all that time?”

“Wouldn’t you?” He climbed out of the bath and reached for a linen towel to dry himself off. Elda’s eyes were dragged from the strange pendant the moment he held his palm out over the puddle at his feet, lifting it towards his chest. The water on the ground rose in a cluster of sparkling droplets, coalescing around his fingers in a rotating cloud. He guided them back to the basin and let them join the rest of the liquid in a small rain shower. Elda’s jaw dropped open.

Oblivious to her shock, Sypher drained the bath and set it running again, ducking out of the bathroom door with her still staring after him. She blinked and followed, eyes straying back to the now-dry floor where he’d been standing.

“Where did you learn to do that?” she gasped.

“I’ve always been able to do it. Can I have that back now?” He nodded towards the pendant. She tossed it back to him, watching him snatch it out of the air and settle it back around his neck. “You should take a bath. Your hair is so muddy it’s not blonde anymore.” Elda reached up to touch her dishevelled curls and grimaced when she felt the mud drying at her temple. The rain had washed a lot of it away, but there was still a good amount caked onto her clothes and skin.

“I only brought the clothes you said to bring,” she realised. “If we have another two days of travel, I have nothing to wear to bed.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You can’t really expect me to sleep in the clothes I then have to wear tomorrow,” she grimaced.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Here.” He opened his drawers and tossed her a black piece of fabric. She held it out, realising it was one of his tunics. Her cheeks coloured immediately. “Get a hold of yourself, Princess. It’s just a shirt.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I was raised in a palace.” She looked down at the tunic. “This won’t cover my legs.”

“You can wear that, or you can wear the clothes you’re travelling in tomorrow. Take your pick.” He folded his arms across his chest while she deliberated. “If you take this much time choosing your clothes, I dread to think how much consideration throwing a real punch is going to need.”

Elda scowled at him and headed for the washroom, making a point of shutting the door. With the wood between them, it was easier to think rationally. She held the tunic up against her body, surprised when it covered her knees. She knew he wouldn’t touch her, but clothes that didn’t cover her legs felt so... immodest. She’d spent her life in floor length dresses and night gowns.

Shaking off her nerves, she set the garment aside and peeled off her filthy clothes. The water was heavenly as she submerged herself, letting the dirt melt off of her until she was clean and refreshed. She stayed in the water a while longer, enjoying the peace of a bath completely alone. Nobody was there to insist on washing her hair, and there was no handmaid speaking to her through the open door while they laid clothes out on her bed.

It was strange to realise she’d never been truly alone unless she was in the forest. In the palace there was a constant string of nobles, meetings, handmaids, waitstaff, tutors and her parents always interrupting every moment of solitude. The silence surrounding her was almost as peaceful as the wind in the trees back home.

Eventually, she had to get out of the bath and dry herself off, slipping the tunic over her head and glancing at herself in the mirror stood in the corner of the room. It was far too big for her, but it covered everything and she was grateful for that. She folded the sleeves back a few times, pushing them above her elbows and tying the fastening at the neck as tight as it would go. It still showed off her collarbones, but it was better than she expected. She braided her damp hair, rinsing the muddy leather chord under the tap until it was clean enough to secure the end.

Elda tiptoed back into the bedroom, noticing Sypher was back at the window with his book, dressed in a fresh pair of trousers with damp hair falling into his eyes. He kept his attention on the page while she scurried to the bed and pulled the blankets up to her neck. When she was settled, he looked up at her bundled up beneath the sheets.

“Comfortable?”

“Yes, actually.” The blankets were soft and clean, smelling of whatever floral soap had been used to wash them. The tunic was the same, though it carried the faintest hint of something else. The scent reminded her of how the air smelled after it rained; fresh and earthy. She took an unconscious whiff and her eyes widened at the aroma of vetiver and leather. It was divine.

“Are you done sniffing my clothes?”

Elda blushed, dropping the fabric. “I didn’t expect you to smell nice,” she mumbled, looking away.

Sypher blinked. “...Thanks?” He got up from the window bench and approached the bed slowly. “Did you expect me to smell of dirt and demon blood?”

“Something like that,” she mumbled. “You spend most of your time outside fighting things.”

“I don’t stay dirty when I have the option to be clean, you know.” She watched him pull the covers back and settle in beside her, keeping as much distance as he could between them with his wings out. He positioned himself on his left side so they hung over the edge of the mattress, facing Elda even though she could tell it made him uncomfortable.

“I don’t mean for it to sound like I think you’re a savage, you know,” she admitted. “You just don’t seem like the kind of person who has much time for anything beyond hunting and killing. Everything I knew about you before we met was based on the stories my father told me growing up.”

“The stories of me killing demons and saving cities, I know. I’ve heard them, read them, even briefly saw a play put on about my adventures. Each version is different. Believe whichever one you want.”

“What’s your version?”

“Decidedly more depressing than what you’ve been told.”

“Even the Basilisk one?”

“...Actually, that one is fairly accurate,” he admitted.

“You really killed it with just a dagger?”

“I did.”

“Do you think I’ll ever be able to do that?” Elda asked, turning onto her side to face him and tucking a hand under her head.

“That’s my hope,” he nodded.

“And will I be able to do that without a proper bond with you?” His eyes darkened. “If you want me to be strong, then I’ll do what I have to in order to make sure that happens. I just want to know that I’m not going to be limited because you’re afraid of whatever this bond can do.”

“It’s how the Keeper uses the bond that frightens me.”

“And how might a Keeper use the bond?”

She expected him to stay silent, but he sighed. “The Spirits believe it’s necessary to control my demon. They think if I go too far, the bond will incapacitate me long enough for my Keeper to behead me.”

“That’s violent.”

“It’s the only way to kill me,” he shrugged. “It has to be a full decapitation though. I can heal if my head is still attached.”

“I’m not sure if that’s impressive or creepy.” She wrinkled her nose. He chuckled, despite his obvious discomfort. “So, you don’t like the bond because it can knock you out?”

“Not exactly.” He took in her expectant expression and frowned. “I really don’t want to talk about this, Princess.”

“Why not?”

“Because the longer I put it off, the longer I can tell myself that you won’t do exactly what every Keeper before you has done.” He trapped her eyes with his. “When you replace out the power you have over me, I’ll be disappointed all over again.”

“I look forward to proving you wrong,” she beamed, returning his stare. “And then I expect an enormous apology. And flowers.”

“Sure, Princess. If you don’t do exactly what I expect you to, I’ll get you flowers,” he muttered doubtfully. “We have another long flight tomorrow. We should sleep.”

“Alright. Goodnight, Sypher.”

“Night.” He closed his eyes, long lashes fanning his cheeks in the firelight. Elda waited until his breathing evened out before she allowed herself to relax into sleep. When she did sleep, she dreamed of falling out of the sky.