Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)
Epilogue: Bonus Chapter

For the reading pleasure of those I love (I’m looking at you Laurie!) and those who have stuck with my books right through the trilogy, I have a gift for you. This chapter is a bonus chapter of sorts. Elda and Sypher’s first meeting, from his POV. Enjoy my lovelies!

Sypher…

I heard the idiot Lord bleating in the halls before I saw him. He was harrassing someone - a woman, judging by her scent. Light, fragrant, like wildflowers and honey. Her heart was a hummingbird caged behind her ribs.

My demon stirred, intrigued by the perfume. The sound of her pain made the fangs I tried so hard to keep at bay push through my gums. Before I could fully understand, I was moving. Vel was moving me.

I hated that, but for once we were in agreement. The Falkrynian needed putting in his place. The door to the hallway opened silently for me, revealing a sight that churned my rage into a black fire.

Horthan was tall, clad in obnoxious golden armour, his clawed hands wrapped around the delicate wrists of a smaller blonde elf. He was hissing obscenities in her ear, revelling in her quivering and flinching. His lips parted to mark her the second before my gloved hand gripped the back of his gaudy green cloak. I yanked him backwards, tossing him like he weighed nothing.

The thwack that sounded when he struck the wall brought a vicious smile to my lips. Keeping the shadows restrained beneath my skin was a monumental effort, one that sent a lancing pain through my chest, so I let it fuel my anger. Horthan peered up at the shadows I knew covered my face and the colour drained from his skin.

The woman was behind me, trembling. Her breaths stuttered from her throat in time with her pulse. Her fear set my teeth on edge, and my sword found Horthan’s jugular.

“Leave,” I warned, seconds away from spilling blood.

Instead, his mouth twisted into the arrogant sneer I’d endured on the faces of so many nobles, and he lifted his chin. “Who are you?” he demanded.

“If you don’t move in the next three seconds, I will slit you open from your neck to your groin, you snivelling waste of flesh,” I hissed. I knew my voice was a snarl, knew magic rolled from me in an invisible torrent strong enough to frighten the most hardy of men.

When the Lord practically pissed himself and ran for the door, the tiny elf beside me remained. She swallowed fearfully at the furious glare Horthan shot her way. The look settled heavily in my chest when I realised it was a guarantee that she’d be punished later.

It wasn’t until I put my sword away and turned to face her properly that I realised who she was. Looking up at me with eyes so wide and so very blue, was the Princess of Eden.

She was perfect, painfully so. My demon was as stunned as I was. Small and delicate, perfect rosebud lips, long lashes spiked with tears and hair that might as well have been spun gold.

For the first time in centuries, I wanted to reach out and touch her face where he’d struck her. With my own hands, hands that hadn’t touched another person willingly in a very long time.

The tang of her blood shoved me out of my stupor and my gaze drifted down to her bleeding wrists. Droplets of crimson splattered a small patch of her skirts. Looking back at her face, a bruise was already forming on her fine cheekbone.

Afraid that my voice might still be the snarl of the demon, I reached out to heal her without words. She flinched, a flash of fire in her eyes. For a second, I was mildly impressed at the thought that she might actually hit me, but her fire quickly turned to fear.

“You’re hurt,” I told her. “Let me see.” No snarl, only a quiet instruction. Her shoulders relaxed a fraction, though her eyes tracked my glove when I reached out and turned her face to get a better look. The touch was the gentlest I could manage, barely detectable through the leather, but my stomach turned anyway.

I forced it down and watched the thoughts running through her eyes from behind my shadows. Worry. Fear. Shame. I could ease her worry by healing her, at least.

Unfastening one gauntlet quickly so she wouldn’t notice the tremor in my hands, I averted my gaze from the stark black markings on the backs of my knuckles before the sight of them could suck me into a waking nightmare. All I had to do was heal her and then I could go. That was all.

Ignoring the erratic thumping of my heart, I reached out, giving her the option to take my hand in an effort to frighten her less. She studied the markings on my skin like they were a puzzle she was trying to solve, stuck between fight or flight.

But eventually that soft, slender hand was resting in mine. A shiver slid down my spine at the contact, nausea cresting so high I was at risk of emptying my stomach right there in the hall. But I let the strange magic of whatever this half of me was pour into her. She sighed softly, her shoulders dropping at the cooling power seeking out the cuts and bruises and taking them away. The blood faded as the damage reversed, drawn back out of the expensive fabric and disappearing beneath her skin where it belonged.

The sting of new wounds opened on my wrists, and a dull ache throbbed in my cheekbone, but they were barely noticeable. She stared up at the shadows of my hood, and for a moment I was sure she could see me through them when it should be impossible.

But then the music swelled and her attention was taken away, worry creasing her delicate brow. “Thank you,” she mumbled quickly, executing a perfect curtsey. “I shouldn’t be out here without a chaperone. I appreciate your help, sir.” And then she was gone, turning away and disappearing back through the door to the banquet hall.

She’s the one.

Every muscle in my body locked up. I’d been sent to replace the next Keeper - my next slaver - but her? She was small and fragile, lacking the hardness that came with suffering or the strength of manual work. She was unwise to the world, sheltered and soft, unbroken by tragedy or hardship. And my life was to be put in her hands? Whatever Spirit chose her was playing a cruel joke, surely?

I waited for another whisper, another feeling to guide me in a different direction, but none came. The bond settled in my bones, wrapping its chains around my soul until my feet were moving again. Back towards the crowds, back towards her.

When I entered the banquet hall, unnoticed by the many guests, the Queen was speaking. Something she said about choosing a suitor sharpened my ears.

Of course - I was attending an engagement banquet. In my quest to replace the Keeper, I’d forgotten the King had invited me to honour the betrothal of his only child. And I was about to stop the whole thing in its tracks.

“Your Majesty.” My voice cut through the chatter as I took down my hood and stepped into the shadows, stepping out of them at the foot of the dais. Every gaze in the room followed me, but it was hers I couldn’t look away from. This tiny female with the ocean in her eyes and a shackle around my soul that wouldn’t lift until the Spirits deemed her purpose fulfilled.

My lips formed words on their own, fed by the Spirits that dictated where my life would lead. I’d stopped trying to fight their will a long time ago, so I let them pour from my mouth, unmoved by the gasps and murmurs fluttering around the room at my demand that the ceremony be halted.

When the idiot Lord opened his mouth I bit down on a growl, resisting the urge to behead him in front of the entire court. My anger boiled at the sound of his voice, remembering the smile on his face as he bent to mark a defenceless woman. Now that I was sworn to protect her with my life, my fury was a beast straining against its bonds.

I listened to him bite out some pitiful speech about offending his kingdom and inciting war, and something inside me snapped. Icy calm spread over the fire in me as my future was laid out before me.

There was only one way out of this hall without a fight. One way to protect the citizens of Eden from Horthan’s tantrum. It went against everything I stood for. I had to ally myself to Eden by marrying Elda in his place.

The Spirits had orchestrated this, knowing I could never abandon a woman to a monster like him, even if it meant she might destroy whatever remained of me after years moving from bond to terrible bond.

But standing there on the dais, shrinking beside her parents clad in their royal finery, the wretched part of me that always held a glimmer of hope pitied her. And in the deepest recesses of my heart, that agonising voice dared to say she might be different. That she might not harm me. That she deserved a chance.

“Alright then,” I said aloud, and Horthan nodded in triumph. He was halfway through speaking when I cut him off with a cold, calculating smile, one that I knew darkened my irises enough to frighten him. “If you want to do this the traditional way then so be it.” I saw Elda’s eyes widen, eyes that might one day look upon me with hate in place of the shock that filled them in that moment. “My name is Sypher, Saviour of Valerus and Soul Forge to the Spirits of this world. I state my intention to marry Princess Elda.”

One way or another, my fate was sealed.