Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)
Chapter Twenty Nine…

“You look like you want to stab someone,” Elda commented, watching Sypher tug at the collar of his outfit and scowl. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, sure. My wife wants to sleep with my demonic split personality and I’m wearing a robe. A robe, El. And it’s green.”

“It doesn’t look as bad as you think it does,” she sighed, taking in the absolute beauty of him in Cenet’s royal attire. The green was deep and rich, making his hair seem paler and his eyes even brighter. It softened the scar at his throat and accentuated his physical appeal in a way Elda hadn’t expected.

“I’m a soldier. This is a joke.” He shot her a sideways glance. “And you didn’t deny wanting to sleep with Vel.”

“I don’t want to sleep with Vel!” she yelled, glaring at him. It was hard to look menacing in her own flowing pink gown, but she did her best. She could almost imagine the demon laughing at her.

“Of course you do.”

“I don’t!” she gritted. “I was flustered and my words came out wrong. He’s very intense.”

“We’re bonded, El. Did you forget that I can read your emotions through our connection?”

She deflated, chewing her lip. “But Idon’twant to sleep with him. I don’t love him.”

“You don’t have to love somebody to be attracted to them.” He sighed and folded his arms across his chest. “I forget how sheltered you were in Eden.”

“If I’m attracted to him then why aren’t I attracted to you? You share one body.”

He finally chuckled despite his black mood. “You are attracted to me. I just avoid getting in your face, unlike Vel.”

Elda’s cheeks burned. “This bond is really inconvenient,” she muttered.

“Welcome to my world.” He grinned. “Sorry to burst your bubble of denial. If you ignore the attraction for long enough it should pass.”

“Wait... If Vel is attracted to me, does that mean you are too?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Do you really want to know the answer to that question or are you asking it to take the focus off of you?”

“I want to know.”

“Hmm. Alright then.” Another grin crossed his face. “Your next lesson is to figure it out for yourself.”

“That’s not fair!”

“I told you not to goad Vel and you did. Call this payback.” He arched an eyebrow at her black glare. “You need to learn to decipher the bond at some point. It helps when the information you’re discerning is something you really want to know.” He winked at her. “We should go to dinner. Falmyr will be wondering where we’ve gone.”

“He’ll understand the delay when he sees you burning a hole in your robes with your eyes,” she grumbled.

“I could actually do that, you know.” For a moment she imagined how startled Falmyr would be if Sypher used his pyromancer talents to destroy his obscenely expensive outfit.

“Moron,” she retorted, rolling her eyes and leaving the room. She didn’t look back to see if Sypher was following her, but she did allow herself a small smile at his antics when she was sure he couldn’t see her face.

The winding hallways kept going until they brought her to the pastel-haired steward waiting at the bottom of the sweeping staircase in the foyer. Her eyes remained glued to the oil paintings adorning the walls and the crown mouldings spattering every ceiling until she caught sight of his sharp nose.

“Greetings, future monarchs of Eden. Prince Runiel is waiting for you in the dining room. This way.” He turned on his heel and disappeared through a doorway that led through another hall, turning at an intersection and gliding through a huge archway, revealing a grand dining room with a vast oak table at its centre.

“Wow,” Elda murmured, staring up at the glass dome she’d seen from outside. A giant, crystal chandelier hung from the highest point, secured by the sturdy frame intersecting the glass panels. Moonlight pooled in the room below, glancing off the finest china and settling on the petals of a centrepiece constructed from dozens of perfect lilies.

“Greetings,” Falmyr called, rising from his seat at the head of the table. He’d changed into even grander robes of silver and white, his hair decorated with silver clasps and arranged in a multitude of thin braids that hung down his back. Small silver bells tinkled when they swished around behind him, secured in the ends of his braids by the finest strands of hair.

“Your home is beautiful, Prince Falmyr,” Elda complimented, dipping into another curtsey. She elbowed Sypher discreetly when he stopped beside her, encouraging him to bow.

“Please, we’re all royals here. No need for the formality. Call me Runiel, and if you’ll allow it, I’d like to use your names too. My father is away at our villa in Falkryn right now. I don’t hold my guests to the same ridiculous standards he favours. Come, sit.” He gestured to the empty spaces on either side of him.

“Thank you, Runiel.” Elda took the seat on his left, placing herself opposite Sypher. As soon as her back touched the chair a dozen stewards emerged from two small side doors, each one carrying a polished silver platter laden with enough food to feed a small village. She saw Sypher frown at the wasteful nature of the Fae, but he said nothing.

“Please, eat something. Your journey must have been long and tiresome.” Runiel smiled demurely but Sypher shot Elda a look that stopped her reaching for the nearest platter. The Prince caught it and chuckled. “I understand. The Fae are tricksters by nature. You think the food is tainted with something that will help me get what I want.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time someone in your family has tried to cross me,” Sypher answered, levelling an even stare at the royal. Falmyr didn’t wilt under the intensity of it. Instead, he leaned forwards eagerly.

“I don’t wish to repeat my father’s misdeeds, Sypher. I can get what I want without need of potions and trickery.” He reached out and grabbed a piece of meat from a nearby platter, bringing it to his lips and chewing to show nothing was wrong with the food. “I will eat from the same plates as both of you all evening, if you wish.”

“Alright.” Sypher nodded almost imperceptibly and Elda reached for a bread roll. It was still warm when she bit into it, the texture so fluffy and light that she sighed when it hit her tongue. “What is it you want in exchange for access to the mountain?”

“Straight to the point, I see,” Runiel chuckled. “I like you, Sypher. Contrary to popular belief, I prefer those who speak plainly. I simply want information.”

“What information?” Elda asked when she’d swallowed her mouthful.

“I want to know what waits for you at the top of the Weeping Mountain. Go there, replace what you’re looking for and come back here to tell me about it. If you agree to that I’ll remove the wards to grant you passage.” Runiel steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on the table.

“Why do you need to know what’s up there?” Sypher asked, cocking his head. “There might not be anything there.”

“That mountain has frightened the wits out of everyone who dared to enter the mines beneath it. They talk of rivers of blood and screams of the dead. Some of them have even gone so far as to call it the Gateway to the Void. My father tried to replace out its secrets many years ago and it drove him mad.”

“The King went into the mountain?” Sypher asked, dark brows rising.

“He did,” the Fae nodded, grasping a goblet in his long fingers and taking a sip. “He was gone for four days. By the time he found his way back out, the man I knew was changed. He never told me what he saw. He paid an enormous sum to have the wards placed and the mine shut down for good.”

“And yet you’re able to dismantle them easily?” Elda countered.

“Anything is easy if you have enough wealth,” Falmyr shrugged. “Moonstone is common here, but across the rest of Valerus it’s an almost priceless commodity. People will pay handsomely for even the smallest amount. My father made the original creator of the wards very rich, and I made his son even richer by purchasing the means to dismantle them.”

“Why wouldn’t you just try going into the mountain yourself?” she pressed.

“Because I’m not an idiot. I value my sanity.” He set his goblet down and clasped his hands in his lap, looking between the two of them. “The Spirits want you to go there for whatever reason. I think it’s reasonable to assume they won’t allow either of you to go insane.”

“But you didn’t know we’d be coming here,” Elda insisted. “Why pay to dismantle the wards when you couldn’t enter the mountain?”

“Who says you’re the first to come here seeking answers?” Runiel asked wryly. “Others have tried, whether it be in the quest for knowledge, or in the hope that they might steal enough moonstone from the mine to make their fortune. All have failed.”

“Others have tried to get into the mines?” Sypher asked. “Even knowing what it did to the King?”

“Yes and no. Several others have tried to get in. None of them knew what the mines did to those who enter. The catalyst of my father’s mental decline isn’t public knowledge.”

“So you let people go down there knowing what might happen to them?” Elda asked, dropping her bread roll and recoiling.

“I’m Fae, my dear,” Falmyr beamed. “We trade in secrets, favours and information. I made my bargains and held up my end, agreeing to let them take whatever moonstone they could carry. It’s not my fault the mountain sent them insane. They simply didn’t ask the right questions.”

“If we return from the mountain unharmed you’ll get your information,” Sypher answered before Elda could say something that might offend the Prince. “As long as the wards are dismantled for our entry and departure. I expect to leave that mountain as easily I enter.” Runiel smiled like he’d been caught trying to steal something.

“But of course. The wards will be disabled for you to enter the mountain, and again as soon as you return. You have my word.”

“You’re absolutely certain?” Sypher asked, narrowing his eyes. “Because if they aren’t, I’ll replace a way to tear them down and then I’ll come looking for you.”

“They will be, Sypher. My word is my bond.” Runiel’s eyes flashed with irritation but the placid smile remained fixed on his face. A shiver slid down Elda’s spine.

The rest of the meal was spent with Falmyr making amiable chit chat while Elda forced down food she was suddenly too uneasy to eat. Sypher ate very little, though Runiel didn’t seem to notice. He needled the Soul Forge with invasive questions that were tactfully avoided or deflected.

Elda kept her mouth shut, realising it was safer not to speak more than a few words at a time when dealing with Falmyer. When the Fae wanted something, every word they spoke was a trap waiting to spring. For his part, the Prince didn’t seem too upset that his tricks were evaded. He seemed to enjoy the challenge.

Eventually, they were excused for the night and Elda let out a relieved sigh when the door closed. Sypher locked it behind him and left the key in the door, listening to make sure the steward wasn’t lingering outside.

“It’s safe to talk. He’s gone,” he said at last.

“That was scarier than I expected. You could have warned me about his tricks before we got here,” Elda admonished.

“I was busy trying to rein in my demon soul,” he answered dryly. “I thought you’d know what he was like since you’ve met him before.”

“Only at the banquet. he was on his best behaviour then.” She flopped back onto the plush gold bedding, feeling herself sink into the mattress. “Do you think the mountain will drive us mad too?”

“The only way to know for sure is to go ourselves,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall beside the door and folding his arms across his chest.

“Great, a trial by fire,” Elda muttered, fear settling heavily in her gut. “Tomorrow is going to be every kind of awful.”