Soul Forge (Book One of the Soul Forge series)

“Are you ready to go yet?” Sypher griped. There were dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by his permanent scowl.

“You’re not a morning person are you?” He shot her a withering glare. “You haven’t even told me where we’re going. Or how we’re getting there,” Elda argued.

“We’re going to meet Gira in Valdren. He’s one of the other Keepers.”

“And we’re getting there how?”

“It’s a surprise,” he answered, flashing a smile that made her wonder, yet again, if she’d have been safer with Horthan. His elongated incisors looked sharp enough to tear out her throat. “Hurry up. We have to tell your father we’re leaving.”

“You haven’t told him yet? How do you even know he’ll let me go with you?”

“Why would he say no?”

“Spirits, you really don’t know anything beyond swinging a sword do you?” She set her hands on her hips, abandoning the boot lace she was tying.

“Then enlighten me,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

“If we leave before the wedding, Horthan will assume we don’t intend to stick to the arrangement. I’m willing to bet Falmyr would take offence too.”

“And?”

“And if we leave without completing the union, we might as well be spitting in their faces. We wanted to avoid a war, remember?”

“I miss being a bachelor,” he muttered, glowering at the ground. “Life was so much simpler when my hardest job was killing demons.”

“Being the next Keeper isn’t exactly a picnic for me either,” she snapped back. Sypher looked like he might respond, then thought better of it and stepped backwards into the shadows. Elda blinked when he vanished, surprised that he could just disappear like that.

“Ass,” she growled, reaching back down to finish fastening her boot lace.

“He can be like that sometimes.” Elda jumped so hard she almost pitched herself backwards over the chaise longue, a scream sticking in her throat. “Sorry!” Irileth apologised quickly. “I forget that not everyone can just appear wherever they choose.”

“Do all the Spirits do this?” Elda asked, one hand pressed to her chest. Her heart was thundering wildly.

“Yes,” Irileth replied innocently. “How is packing for your trip going?”

“It isn’t. Sypher thought we could leave without asking. I’m assuming he’s gone without me to talk to my father.”

“He never did care for the politics of royalty.”

“Why does he hate me so much? My entire existence seems to irritate him,” Elda grumbled bitterly. “I met him yesterday, and he already looks at me like he wants me to disappear.”

“He looks at everybody like that. You should worry when he looks at you like he wants to gut you.” Irileth inspected her perfect, frozen nails as she spoke.

“Why is he like that?”

The Spirit looked up and cocked her head. “Wouldn’t you be? He’s spent eight hundred years at the mercy of the Spirits. Almost everyone he likes grows old and dies, while he lives.” She smiled. “Maybe that will change with you.”

Elda snorted. “He’ll never like me in any capacity. He barely tolerates me.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll overcome your differences. You’ll have many lifetimes to get to know one another if all goes well.” Elda blinked, uncomprehending. “You’re immortal, sweetie.”

“I’m what?!” Her voice shot through three octaves. “And nobody thought to tell me that would happen?”

“What did you think binding yourself to me meant? Our souls are intertwined now. If I die, you die. Likewise, my magic will sustain you indefinitely.” Irileth set her hands on her hips, disturbing the freezing mist of her skirts. “Sypher was supposed to explain this to you.”

“That makes sense. He tells me nothing,” Elda scowled. “Is this what it’s going to be like for me? Constantly on the back foot because my so-called fiance can’t be around me long enough to tell me what’s going on?”

“Be still, little friend.” Irileth drew closer and took her hands. “Everything will be fine. Sypher isn’t the most palatable person in the universe, I know, but you do have me. I’ll make sure you’re in the know as much as I can.”

“That sounds like a caveat,” Elda said warily. “Why can’t you just make sure I’m ‘in the know’ full stop?”

“You know what I know.”

“You said my purpose was to fix what’s broken and then expose the lies. What’s broken? What lies?”

“I don’t know that yet.” Irileth let go of her hands to sit beside her on the chaise longue, the vapour falling away from her pointed legs as she crossed one over the other. “This is a journey we go on together.”

“Why did you choose me?” Elda’s question was spoken in a small voice, as though she were afraid to hear the answer. Her shoulders hunched, eyes dropping to her knees. Irileth smiled softly and lifted her chin with a finger.

“Because you’re the light in a dark, dark world. You may not see it now, little friend, but one day you will be the greatest Keeper Valerus has ever known.”

“Thank you,” Elda replied, her cheeks colouring. “Are you sure you can’t be the one to teach me everything? Sypher seems like he’d rather be anywhere else, and you’re much kinder.”

“Unfortunately not. He’ll never admit it, but he needs your help as much as you need his.” The Spirit cocked her head, her smile widening. “Give him a chance.”

“Alright,” the elf nodded. “I can do that. Maybe he’ll warm up to me over time.”

“I doubt it,” came the caustic retort from the corner of the room. Elda looked up to see Sypher leaning against the doorframe that led to her bathroom. “Once we’ve done whatever the Spirits need us for, you and I will part ways as strangers.”

“Sypher, is there really any need to be that way?” Irileth tutted, frowning at him.

“You know there is.” He turned his scowl on Elda again. “Your handmaid is on her way to get you ready, by the way. We have a wedding to attend.”

“Whose wedding?” she asked stupidly. Sypher’s brow puckered. “Ours?”

“Unless you know of someone else that would be getting married in your palace?” His tone was so sharp that Irileth sighed in annoyance. Elda’s mouth popped open, her heart leaping into her throat.

“Today?”

“No time like the present.” He pushed away from the doorframe. “See you at the altar, Princess. Don’t slap me.” And then he disappeared again, stepping backwards into a swathe of shadows that swallowed him whole.

“Are you alright?” Irileth asked warily.

“I don’t know. Why would I slap him?”

“For kissing you when it’s time to seal the vows.”

“I have to kiss him? I have to kiss him!” Elda’s hands flew to the sides of her head. “I’ve never kissed anyone! I don’t even like the man!”

“He’s better than that dreadful Falkrynian Lord.”

“Is he?”

“Come now, be fair,” Irileth chuckled. “The Shifter is a monster, inside and out. Sypher does have his redeeming qualities.”

“Like what?” Elda demanded.

“Well, he’s saved the world a few times. Also his abs are spectacular. There are far worse things in the world than kissing a man who looks like he was carved by an Angel.” Elda opened her mouth to snap out a rebuttal, when a knock at the door interrupted her.

“It’s me, Your Grace,” Persephone announced.

“Come in.” The handmaid entered with a large garment bag slung over her shoulder, tapping the door closed with her foot. She curtseyed at Irileth like seeing a Spirit in Elda’s bedroom was the most normal thing in the world.

“I’m here to get you ready. Did Sypher tell you the wedding is this evening?” she asked.

“He did,” Elda nodded, flexing her clenched fists. Her nails left behind crescent shaped indentations where they’d bitten into her palms. She squinted at the garment bag on the bed. “Is that a wedding dress?”

“It is. Your mother had it made before the suitors even set off from their kingdoms. She’s in the chapel now, doing what she can to make it look suitable for a short notice wedding.” Persephone smiled, trying to inject some cheer into the tense atmosphere. “The good news is most of the nobles are still here to witness the ceremony.” Elda groaned and dropped her head into her hands.

“She’s scared of kissing her new husband,” Irileth stage-whispered. Persephone nodded as though that explained everything.

“It’s not that hard to do. Just close your eyes and lean into it.”

“Lean into it? I don’t want to kiss him, Seph!” Elda ground out, lifting her head to fix Persephone with a wide eyed stare. “And what does ‘lean into it’ even mean?”

“Whichever way he tilts his head, you tilt the opposite. The rest will come naturally,” the human girl shrugged, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “It’s not a big deal. Don’t overthink it.” Elda stared at her for several seconds before deflating.

“Just show me the dress,” she commanded. Persephone grinned and Irileth clapped her hands together, standing to get a better view of what Elda would be wearing.

The dress was divine. Even Elda had to admit that her mother’s taste was impeccable. It was off the shoulder, long and full, and decorated in beautiful, hand-stitched lace and floral patterns that must have taken hours and hours to construct. The train was long and dramatic, exactly the opposite of what she thought she liked, and somehow still perfect.

“Oh it’s beautiful!” Irileth gushed, pressing a hand to her frozen face.

“It is nice,” the elf conceded. “It’s just a shame the one I’m wearing it for can’t stand me.”

“He won’t be able to resist smiling at you when I’m done with you,” Persephone promised. Elda groaned and allowed the handmaid to sit her in front of the dresser. Irileth watched in fascination as Elda’s hair was teased into a long, loose braid and decorated with pale blue flowers. Her face was painted with makeup, a tiara was placed on her head, and a pair of tall shoes with delicate golden vines down the heel were placed on her feet. It took a while to perfect her, but eventually the dress was laid out on the floor for her to step into, and then the handmaid cinched the corset tight around her torso.

“You look like a Queen,” Persephone sniffed, wiping at her eyes dramatically.

“If Sypher doesn’t like this then he’s lost his mind,” Irileth seconded. “You’re beautiful.”

“Let’s just get this over with,” Elda mumbled, glancing out of the window at the approaching sunset.

“Come with me.” Persephone took her elbow and led her through the door, but she paused to look back at Irileth.

“I’m with you even if you can’t see me, little friend,” the Spirit promised. Elda took a deep, steadying breath and allowed Persephone to lead her through the castle hallways and down to the chapel.

“Are you nervous?”

“I’m petrified,” Elda admitted, “but I have to do this, or people could get hurt.” She steeled her shoulders as they approached the chapel doors, watching them swing wide to reveal the room beyond.

Elda was shocked so much had been arranged at such short notice. The pews were filled with the nobles who’d witnessed her engagement, and at the end of each were swathes of white flowers interspersed with pale blue. A white carpet ran the length of the aisle, and at the end of it stood Sypher.

At the sight of him, her mouth went dry. Six-and-a-half feet tall, and imposing in dark colours, he stood with his back to her. At the sound of the doors opening, he turned, and Spirits, was he handsome. Smouldering red eyes, high cheekbones and a jaw sharp enough to draw blood greeted her. A golden diadem decorated his forehead, matching the gold detailing on the tailored jacket he wore. Intricate patterns lined the lapels and sleeves in shimmering fabric. More patterns were pressed into the fabric rather than sewn, adding subtler accents across the arms and shoulders. Instead of his usual black, the jacket and trousers were smokey grey. His dark leather gloves were new and his black boots were polished to a shine.

She reached the steps to the altar without realising she’d started walking, passing the many gawking faces without so much as a single tremble. Sypher offered her his hand and helped her up the three steps to stand beside him. There was something gentler in his expression, she thought, though it was only a fleeting glimpse. Her heart began to flutter.

“For the record, this?” He pitched his voice low, gesturing at his outfit. “Hate it.” Just like that, the illusion was shattered, and the Sypher she knew came right back out to play.