Page 37 of Soul Forge

“Stop it,” she whispered to herself, staring at the ripples in the water as the hand holding the bowl trembled. He hadn’t hurt her. Sypher had saved her life several times, even hurting himself in the process. He hadn’t tried to treat her like Horthan did or forced her to behave like royalty. Even his demon hadn’t harmed her.

She rapped three times on the wood and squared her shoulders, pushing the door open without waiting for an answer.

Sypher was perched on a bench built into a large window with an uncomfortable frown on his face. One knee was bent on the bench, his elbow resting on it and a book clutched in his fingers. The other boot was on the floor, his leg stretched out to avoid jarring the injured ankle. His wings still hung awkwardly behind him, struggling to heal on their own. With his armour gone, his scarred torso was thrown into sharp relief in the firelight. It glinted off the strange metal pendant around his neck. He glanced up from the book and cocked his head.

“I didn’t expect Reiner to let you come up here alone,” he said, eyes passing over the splint tucked under her arm.

Elda shrugged. “She’s busy with Atlas.”

“Ah, so she’s going to strangle one of us when she finds out you’re in here.” He returned his attention to the book in his hand.

“Probably.” She looked down at the bowl, the surface of the water still rippling with her trembling fingers. “I thought you might appreciate some help.”

“I can heal myself just fine.”

She cast a doubtful eye over his wings, still bent and battered. “Are you sure you’ll be able to fly tomorrow?”

“They’ll be mended enough by morning.”

“Can you even move them?”

He scowled at the page. “Not much.”

“I have something that might help.” She slipped the two packs off her back and started rummaging through hers. “When will I get a weapon, by the way? You made me leave my bow behind.”

“I did.”

“We got attacked today.”

“Yes, we did.”

“How am I supposed to help you fight without a weapon?” Her fingers touched the vial of healing salve. She slipped it into her pocket and set the pack aside. “I can’t participate if I’m not armed.”

“You’re notparticipatinguntil you’ve spent some time with Gira.” His answer was absent, his attention focussed on the page.

“Why not?” she frowned. “Isn’t the whole point of this trip that I learn to fight? How can I be expected to beat your demon with no training?”

The book snapped shut. He set it aside and stood, the light of the small fire casting shadows around the room that made him seem much taller. She swallowed, resisting the urge to take a step back.

“So that’s why you’re here,” he said softly.

“I’m here to help you with your injuries.” She dropped her eyes to his boots. “You shouldn’t be standing on a broken ankle.”

“You’re here to ask about the demon.”

“I’m here tohelpyou.” She tried to ignore his presence, setting the bowl and splint on a nearby dresser. She dug into her pocket for the salve and waved the vial at him. “The best money can buy. Take it or leave it.”

“Fine, but you’re not splinting my leg,” he muttered.

“Deal, nowsit down.”

The winged soldier scowled and sat back on the bench, folding his arms across his bruised chest to watch her. She ignored the runes snaking across his skin, the scars crisscrossing every inch of his torso, and brought the splint to him. He pulled a knife from his other boot and cut the leather of his trouser leg at the knee, discarding the offcut and untying the laces to reveal the swollen ankle underneath. He barely flinched, tying off the splint with expert hands and sitting back.

“What’s the water for?” he asked.

“To put the salve in. You can’t pull your wings in, and I doubt you can reach them to put it on yourself. Let me help you.”

“I heard you outside the door, Princess.” His tone was flat, his eyes on the flames flickering in the brick hearth. “You’re terrified of me.”

---