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

Sypher sat beside Elda and watched the festivities, his eyes on King Hrothgar chatting jovially with Artan. He hadn’t said a word since they’d taken their seats to the left of the thrones. Meridia hovered between the rejected suitors, expertly smoothing any ruffled feathers. She even attempted it with Horthan, though it was clear he would hold a grudge for a long time.

“Are you going to say anything?” Elda asked eventually, turning to look at Sypher.

“I assumed you weren’t in the mood for talking.” He rested an elbow on the table as he spoke, angling his body towards her.

“What happens now?”

“I bind you to your Soul Blade and the Spirit inside it, and then you begin your training.”

“Training for what, exactly?” she pressed

“Whatever the Spirits have chosen you for.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

He sipped the ale in his tankard before replying. “I have a good idea.” She wasn’t sure if he was ignorant to how much he annoyed her, or if he was being purposefully cryptic. She could already feel herself getting frustrated.

“So are you going to tell me, or just leave me sitting here in suspense?”

“You’ll figure it out when the time is right.”

“You really expect me to just go along with everything you’ve said, getting no information in return?” she scoffed. “Tell me what you think I’m going to face.”

Sypher arched an eyebrow. “Evil in whatever form it decides to take. The kind of evil an army can’t handle.”

“And why leave it to me instead of you?”

“Because the task is bigger than me.” His response was flat, his expression deadpan. She got the distinct impression that her entire existence was an enormous inconvenience for him.

“You’re the Soul Forge. What task could be too big for you?”

He cast his eyes to the ceiling for a second, and then drained the last of his ale. “Contrary to your belief, and apparently also the belief of every story teller on Valerus, I am capable of failure. There are some things I can’t do alone. That’s when the Spirits decide it’s time to choose a Keeper. I don’t decide when, where, how or why that person is chosen.”

“If you won’t tell me what you think I’ve been chosen for, can you at least tell me something about you?” she pleaded. “Like where you come from? Or how you became the Soul Forge?”

“No.”

“How am I supposed to trust you if I don’t know you? You could be worse than Horthan, for all I know.”

“Listen, Princess,” he snapped, folding his arms across his chest. A ridge formed between his dark brows, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “Let’s get one thing straight right from the off, okay? I told you the truth when I said I’d protect you from harm because that’s my job now. I also told you the truth when I said your body was your own. I have no interest in being a husband. Zero.”

“Then why propose?” she ground out.

“To protect you. Also, Horthan is an ass and I wanted to irritate him. Two birds, one stone.”

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” she argued.

He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy noise. It almost sounded like he was in pain. “Not a chance. We’re not friends. We’re not companions. I’m the Soul Forge, you’re the Keeper. If I tell you to punch, you punch. If I tell you to run, you run. That’s all this is.”

“Why do you continue to do the Spirit’s bidding if you hate it so much?” she asked quietly, reeling from the sting his barbed comments brought. How miserable must his life be, to leave him so bitter?

“The same reason you were about to sign your life away. If I stop, there’s nobody to protect the people who can’t protect themselves.” He got to his feet. “Training starts at sunrise. I expect to see you out in the courtyard on time.” He cast a dark glower over her outfit. “And don’t wear a dress.”

Her mouth dropped open, furious tears welling up in her eyes when he stalked away from her. He stopped by the King to make his excuses for the swift exit, and then he strode out the banquet hall doors without looking back. Hrothgar spotted the stricken look on Elda’s face and returned to the dais, lowering himself into the chair Sypher had vacated. She blinked away the moisture clinging to her lashes and took as deep a breath as the corsets would allow, forcing a smile onto her face.

“You know I know you better than that,” her father replied gently, taking her hands in his. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing, I...” She cast her eyes down. “I’m just wondering if my choice was the wrong one.”

The King nodded knowingly. “I see. I’ve known the Soul Forge for a long time, sweetheart. He can be sharp sometimes, but he’ll never purposefully harm you.” He paused, reconsidering his words. “Well, not outside of training.”

“I’m just shocked by how blunt he was.” She remembered the flicker of emotion when they’d danced, something she didn’t understand registering in his expression when she challenged his intentions. “I may have upset him.”

“Oh, I doubt that. Sypher’s natural disposition is enough to make most people flinch. I don’t believe any comment you made would do him any harm.”

“What if I questioned his intents towards my virtue?” she asked quietly.

The King pursed his lips for a moment. “What exactly did you say?”

“I implied that he might force himself on me once we were married.”

“...Ah. That might have annoyed him, yes.” He released her hands to tug at his beard. “Although it’s hard to tell when he’s annoyed. He spends so much of his time looking at people like he’d rather slit his own throat than talk to them.”

“You’re not helping my confidence, father.”

Hrothgar chuckled. “He won’t touch you without your permission, sweetheart. Of that, I’m certain.” Elda nodded, the belt around her chest releasing a fraction at her father’s promise. “You must remember that Sypher has been around for the best part of a thousand years, and he’s been through a huge amount in that time,” he reminded her. “Living through the things he has would change any man.”

“You really think I’m safe with him?”

“I do. I also think you need to thicken your skin as quickly as you can. He has a sharp tongue and a distinct lack of social skills.” Hrothgar’s fond tone was at complete odds with the negative comments.

“How did you meet him?”

“He saved me from a Basilisk a long time ago,” the King admitted. “Perhaps, once he’s warmed up to you, he’ll tell you the story.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll happen any time soon,” Elda muttered, rubbing at the pounding headache starting to settle near her temple. “I’m going to get some rest, if that’s alright? Sypher has already decided training starts at dawn.”

“I’ll make sure to have something appropriate for you to wear,” her father promised. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”

She bent and kissed his cheek, suddenly eager to leave the raucous noise of the celebration. She motioned for her handmaid to follow and ducked out of the double doors. Persephone detached herself from the edge of the room and fell into step beside her as soon as the doors closed. Elda tucked her hand into the human girl’s arm, taking comfort from her presence. The handmaid knew to say nothing until they reached Elda’s room, staying quiet until the door was shut behind them.

“What the fuck was that?” Persephone demanded immediately, her rich brown eyes as round as dinner plates. “You’re marrying the Soul Forge!” Any other time, Elda would have laughed at her antics. She had a habit of abandoning all etiquette the second they were away from watchful eyes.

“I know.”

“The Saviour of Valerus!”

“I know.”

Persephone frowned at her. “You don’t look happy.”

“I think he hates me already,” Elda admitted. “He was annoyed just sitting with me.”

“He didn’t exactly arrive expecting to propose to someone,” the handmaid pointed out. “Maybe he was just shocked by it all.”

“It’s more than that.” Elda flopped back onto her mattress. “I think he hates that I’m a Keeper.”

“Ask him why then.”

“As I realised tonight, he also hates questions.”

“At least he’s handsome,” Persephone mused. Elda propped herself up on her elbows and raised an eyebrow at her friend. “What? It’s not like it isn’t true. Did you see that jawline?”

“Focus, Seph.”

“How? I’ve heard about those legendary abs a thousand times. You can’t tell me you’re not curious about how it would feel to lick them.” She waggled her brows at the Princess. “I know I am.”

“Persephone!” Elda yelped, her cheeks flushing crimson. The handmaid chuckled and sat beside her, encouraging her into a sitting position so she could undo the corset strings at her back. “The last thing I want to do is lick any part of him. I’m just glad I’m not stuck with Horthan.”

“Me too,” the maid replied. She paused in her unlacing to fold Elda into a hug from behind, resting her chin on the elf’s shoulder. “I was afraid for your safety.”

“You might still need to fear for it,” the Princess admitted. “I start my training as Keeper at dawn, whatever that means. I think he intends to kick me up and down the courtyard for a few hours.” She folded her arms across her chest and scowled at the floor. “He’s expecting a demure, dainty little Princess with no fighting experience at all.”

“Seeing the surprise on his face should be fun then,” the human girl beamed. “It’s a shame your bow is broken. I bet showing him your skills with a weapon would really shock him.” She finished with the corsets and stood to fetch a night gown, taking the voluminous blue dress and tucking it under her arm.

“I’m sorry I left that for you to clean up,” Elda mumbled.

“It wasn’t difficult. The arrows are all back in their quiver and I put the bow in the wardrobe with them in case you knew how to fix it.” She paused, taking in Elda’s hunched shoulders. “How did your father take it when he realised you were still sneaking out, by the way?”

“He said I had too much of him in me.”

“He got that right,” Persephone snorted. “You’re just as bull-headed as him when you want to be.”

“I’d rather be like him than be the weak, perfect little thing my mother wants me to be.”

“Maybe they should crown you Emperor instead of Queen when it’s your turn,” Seph teased gently. “I’m gonna go see if I can replace some clothes that actually fit you for the morning.”

“My father said he’d arrange something.”

“Then I’ll speak with him and be back in the morning,” she insisted. “Night!”

Elda gave a half-hearted wave as her friend disappeared, leaving her alone at last. Her thoughts raced too quickly for sleep, so she dug her bow and quiver out of the wardrobe and fetched the meagre repair kit she’d gathered over the years.

Her trips to the forest had started when she was a curious teenager. As soon as she realised she needed clothes other than dresses, she’d started raiding the supplies the palace staff used, stealing needles and thread, scissors, and various other things she thought might help. She pulled out a small bottle of adhesive, and a needle and thread, carrying everything outside.

The moonlight illuminated her terrace enough to see, the sky clear of clouds and speckled with millions of winking stars. The scent of the forest carried on the cool breeze, relaxing her tense shoulders as she sat at the wrought iron table and got to work.

The needlework her mother forced her to learn had turned out to be a handy skill, probably the only thing the Queen had suggested that Elda really took an interest in. It meant repairing the strap on her quiver was easy enough. She set the needle aside and pulled on the leather, satisfied that it wouldn’t easily break.

The bow proved more difficult. It was splintered unevenly, but Elda worked patiently with the adhesive, aligning each notch and break carefully until the weapon was whole again. When the glue was set, she tested it, re-stringing the bow and knocking an arrow. She pulled it as taught as she could, listening for any creaks or snaps. When none came, she released her hold andsmiled when the arrow struck the wooden doorframe with a satisfying thunk.

She was determined to show Sypher she was worthy of being taken seriously. Despite his abrasive nature, he’d done something monumental to keep her safe, and she wanted to prove that his efforts wouldn’t be wasted. One way or another, she’d make it clear that she was more than just a nuisance to him.