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

The chapel they stood in was a work of art, attached to a wing of the palace that looked out onto verdant gardens. Beams of dark wood stretched high above in intersecting patterns, securing a roof and walls made almost entirely of glass. Sunlight streamed through and bathed the pews, highlighting every shimmering thread in Elda’s dress and sparkling off Sypher’s golden diadem.

Hrothgar stood, bringing the Queen with him so they could officiate the ceremony. Sypher kept Elda’s hand in his, shoulders tense as he looked straight ahead. Again, she noticed his touch on her hand was feather-light, making it obvious that he’d rather not touch her at all.

“Friends! Thank you for attending at such short notice,” the King called out to the room, his voice echoing easily off the high ceiling. “Our newest Keeper must be called away, so we’ve chosen to bring the wedding forward. I appreciate all of you so graciously accommodating this.”

Elda drowned out what the King was saying, focussing on anything but the ceremony to try and calm her nerves. She passed her eyes over the guests, replaceing each one of her suitors sitting among the crowd. To her surprise, even Horthan was there. His jaw was tight, and he was glaring, but he sat in resolute silence.

“Now Sypher, if you’ll repeat after me,” the King said, regaining Elda’s attention. The Soul Forge turned to face her, taking her other hand as she realised it was already time for their vows. King Hrothgar told him what to say, and he recited the words without faltering.

Too soon, it was her turn. Her pulse quickened when her father spoke the words to her, and then she looked up at Sypher. There was a very faint ridge between his brows, his extraordinary eyes burning with scarlet fire. The muscle flexing in his jaw gave away that his teeth were clenched.

“I, Princess Elda Gild of Eden, take you Sypher, Saviour of Valerus and Soul Forge to the Spirits, as my husband,” she began, thankful her voice didn’t waver. “I bind us before the creators and pray for love everlasting. I promise to be your light in the darkness. I promise to guide you when you are lost. I will love and honour you until the day our souls are returned to the After.” He watched her silently as she spoke the vows, her fingers trembling between his gloves. When she swayed slightly on her feet, he squeezed her hands, reminding her to breathe in. The gesture was uncharacteristically kind.

“Elda and Sypher,” Hrothgar said warmly. “I seal your bond of matrimony before the Spirits, and proclaim that you are husband and wife. Soul Forge, you may kiss your bride.”

Before Elda could process what was happening, Sypher took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. A shiver slid down her spine and she began to relax against him, her hands rising to rest on his chest. A tingling sensation spread through her limbs, eyelids sliding shut without instruction. She tilted her head, instinctually parting her lips to respond. A strange fog descended on her, seeping into her bones and making her feel warm and languid. The kiss deepened for a fraction of a second, before Sypher broke it off and the fog withdrew as quickly as it settled, leaving her dazed.

The guests clapped as they walked out of the chapel, standing respectfully for the Princess and her Prince. She let herself be led away from the noise by the arm until it faded behind them.

“I’m glad that’s over with,” Sypher stated, letting go of her immediately and tugging at his jacket. “How long before I can take this off?”

“We’re expected to attend our own wedding banquet,” she pointed out, trying to ignore the lingering feel of his lips on hers. He scowled. “Have you never been to a wedding?”

“Why would I ever go to a wedding?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe your friends got married?”

“Yeah, all my many friends,” he snorted. The sound was bitter, and her last frayed nerve snapped. She rounded on him with clenched fists.

“Why do you hate me?” Elda demanded. His brow furrowed. “Irileth says you don’t like most people, but it’s more than that, isn’t it? What did I do to you? Every word I say makes you angry! Tell me, what in Spirit’s name happened to you to make you so nasty?!”

“It’s not what you’ve done.”

“Then what is it?!” she pressed.

“It’s this,” he growled. “A Keeper demanding to know everything about me like you have a right to know anything, again.”

“Why is it so wrong to want to know more?”

“Because we’re not friends. I’m here to train you, then I’m going to leave and not look back. You can go about your life as a happy little Princess, and I’ll go about mine the way I want to. Alone.”

“If people knew what you were really like, they wouldn’t worship you,” Elda retorted, swallowing the dreadful swell of furious tears. “They’d run away screaming.”

“You have no idea how right you are,” he hissed. The flickering red in his eyes flattened to almost black, and fear crawled up her spine when he bared his teeth. His elongated incisors looked dangerously sharp in the empty hallway. “I stuck my neck out to save you from the Falkrynian. I don’t owe you anything else.” He turned and strode away from her. She watched him leave, glaring at his back.

“There’s a lot of trauma there.” Elda bit down on a shriek, startled when Irileth spoke suddenly from beside her. “He doesn’t always know how to handle it.”

“Can you not do that, please? I almost had a heart attack!” Elda gasped, one hand pressed to her chest.

“Sorry, I said I was going to work on it,” Irileth apologised with an impish grin. She tucked a few strands of glowing hair behind her ear. “What I said about Sypher is true. There’s a reason he’s so...” She trailed off, not sure of the word.

“Spiky? Rude? Such an ass?“”

“Exactly! Give him time. He grows on a person.”

“Like a fungus?”

“Behave,” Irileth scolded gently, putting a frozen hand on Elda’s shoulder. “You will learn more about him in time, but you have to let him tell you. Don’t push him.”

“Should I go replace him?”

“No. Let him walk it off.”

“Won’t it look odd, me walking into my wedding celebration alone?”

“You won’t be alone,” Irileth beamed. “I’m used to my physical form now. I’ve mastered making myself short enough to get through the doors without ducking. I’m coming with you!”

Elda balked. “I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Of course it is,” the Spirit laughed, taking her arm and pulling her back towards the hall. “There hasn’t been a new Keeper for almost three centuries. The people will need proof of my involvement, especially Horthan.”

“Why?”

“He doubts you,” she replied simply. “He told his envoy that Sypher’s interruption was planned to avoid making an alliance with Falkryn.”

“Wonderful.” Elda passed a hand across her eyes to try and stem the budding ache behind them. “If he keeps running his mouth, we’ll have several angry monarchs to fend off.”

“Which is what I’m here for,” the Spirit beamed, tossing her pale hair back. The sunlight coming through the windows caught her frosted skin and shone right through in a mesmerising pattern.

“Well, there’s no doubt about you being a Spirit,” Elda agreed. “Maybe it isn’t such a bad idea.”

“Sypher tends to behave himself when I’m around too,” Irileth winked. “My presence might make him a bit nicer to you.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” the elf muttered darkly. “Let’s get this over with.” They entered the banquet hall arm in arm to a chorus of gasps and shouts. Irileth’s grin stretched almost from ear to ear as she proudly led Elda to the dais to greet the King.

“By the Spirits,” he muttered when he saw them approach, immediately bowing his head in respect. The rest of the guests followed suit.

“Now, Hrothgar, there’s no need for that,” Irileth chuckled. “Rise, all of you.” Everyone in the room straightened up uncertainly. “My name is Irileth, and I am the Spirit that has selected Princess Elda as my Keeper.” Hrothgar straightened to peer up at the seven foot tall ice woman. She smiled serenely back at him and the Queen.

“You were there the day the Basilisk attacked,” he noted.

“I was,” she nodded. “I was the one who brought Sypher here to stop it. It wasn’t your time, you see.”

“Thank you, Creator.”

“Oh, come now, I know you’re more fun than that,” the Spirit chuckled. “This is a celebration! I simply want to be a part of it.”

“Very well,” the King nodded, motioning for the bard and his band to continue the music. “Welcome, Irileth. Where’s Sypher?”

Elda sighed. “Sulking.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Why don’t you both take a seat while you wait for him to return?” Hrothgar waved towards the two empty chairs meant for the married couple. Elda took one, but Irileth hesitated.

“Actually, I’d very much like to mingle, if you don’t mind? There’s one person in particular I’m just dying to meet,” she admitted. Elda frowned at the inflection in her words, but nodded to show it was fine. The Spirit beamed and sauntered over to where Horthan sat at one of the long benches with a tankard in his hand. Irileth took it from him and dumped it over his head. “If you ever touch my Keeper again, Shifter, I will wipe you and your entire bloodline from existence.” She smiled sweetly. “Enjoy the party.”

Elda gawked, both mortified and impressed, as the Falkrynian spluttered and wiped ale from his eyes. A quiet chuckle made her turn. Sypher watched the exchange from behind her chair with an amused grin, the expression a sharp contrast to his usual frown. With his princely outfit and no sword across his back, he almost looked friendly.

“I thought you’d be gone longer,” she dared to say.

“And miss Lord Asshole getting a drink in his face? No chance.” He took the seat beside her, watching Irileth flit between groups of people in absolute fascination. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Elda tried to think of something to say to him. He made no attempt to speak first, keeping his eyes on the Spirit.

“I don’t pry because I feel like I have a right to know everything about you, you know,” she mumbled eventually, hands bunching her beautiful skirts. “I fear for my safety. My experience of men is both minimal and decidedly negative.”

“So you meet one man who treats you like meat, and now you’re convinced I’m going to do the same?” He didn’t look at her when he spoke, but the irritation in his tone was thick enough that she knew he was scowling.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “Every man I meet, bar Horthan, speaks to me with respect, but still manages to treat me like I’m mindless. You, on the other hand, are outwardly disrespectful and you think I’m mindless.”

“And that’s a fact, is it?” He turned those red eyes on her and the response lodged in her throat. “I don’t think you’re mindless. An inconvenience, definitely, but not mindless.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience.” Something in her expression made him sigh, his harsh tone softening a fraction. His dark brows knit together, a hint of sadness turning down the corners of his mouth. She wished, more than anything, that he’d tell her why he was so closed off, but she reminded herself that they were strangers. She had to earn the right to that knowledge.

“I know, Princess.” He looked back at his clenched fist resting on the tabletop, forcing his fingers to relax. “Let’s just get through the banquet, alright?”

“Alright.” He nodded and sat back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. The fabric of his smart jacket strained over his biceps, and Elda forced herself to look back at Irileth.

“How long do we have to stay here?” Sypher grumbled.

“Until sunset,” the King put in, having listened to their exchange from his throne. “After that, you can leave without it being impolite. You’ll need to leave anyway to see your new living quarters.”

“What’s wrong with my current ones?” Elda asked, alarmed.

“Married monarchs stay in the royal suites, Princess,” Sypher explained. “Looks like you and I are roommates.”