Page 144 of Soul Forge

“You’re right,” he nodded, studying Julian’s pale eyes. “You go to see the king.”

“I’ll come with you,” Gira decided. “Artan is usually pleased to see me.”

“And what about me?” Lillian asked, her pale brows drawn into her usual sour frown.

“You’re going to join Clover out in the city,” Reiner decided. “You should be able to find him easily enough with your portals. You can tell him to come back here so he can rest and feed.” The violet in her eyes brightened a fraction, daring Lillian to argue. The fae rose to the challenge.

“So, I’m going out there to do his job for him?” she scowled.

“You are going out there to let himrest,” Reiner reiterated, her fist clenching on the tabletop.

Lillian pouted at the Soul Forge. “Do I have to?”

“Yes,” Sypher decided. “You’re the only one without something to do, and you can ask the city guards the same questions Clover can.”

“I’m getting sick of doing the donkey work,” Lillian muttered, but she rose from her seat and stormed outside in search of the vampire. Sypher relaxed when she was out of sight and dropped a hand down on Julian’s shoulder.

“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t fed?” he asked.

“You seemed busy,” he grinned. Heat coloured Elda’s cheeks. Sypher arched an eyebrow, and Julian rolled his eyes. “Fine. Donors are hard to come by. People think vampire bites are sordid, dirty little secrets they’ll be forced to keep, so nobody wants to help us. We’re not starving, though. We can go a while longer.”

“No. Both of you, come with me.” Sypher gestured to Yani, and the pair of them followed him out of the room obediently.

“I guess that just leaves us,” Gira said brightly, turning to Elda and the ex-captain. “Come on, ladies. Let’s go see if King Artan has any good news for us.”

Saeryn was beautiful. Shiny, sand-coloured stone reflected shafts of sunlight from every wall and tower, run through with veins of grey and brown in an intricate web. Instead of cobbles, the roads were smooth and constructed of large, flat grey bricks for carts to travel over with ease. Noblemen and women wandered back and forth through the streets, mostly human, but with the odd mix of other species wandering among them.

Elda watched a fae male place a sign outside his cafe, his skin the deepest shade of blue she’d seen yet. Another male, this one appearing human, carried several wooden chairs and chatted amiably as he worked. A similar scene played out inside the many stores and buildings lining the wide streets, people from all walks of life living seamlessly alongside one another.

A pang of despair twisted in Elda’s gut when she realised Saeryn was the real safe haven, and Eden was just another city of elites, denying anyone they deemed undesirable safe passage. Her realisation was reinforced when she saw a group of ishma, a species she hadn’t even known existed when she lived in Eden, wandering down the path towards them, shopping bags in hand.

“This place is beautiful,” Elda murmured, watching the sunlight shine on their scales. They were a mixture of males and females, the women pale yellow and orange, the men deep crimson and burnt sienna. How anyone could deem them undesirable was beyond her.

“It is,” Reiner agreed. “Artan really built a safe kingdom. This is what I hope Eden will become when you ascend the throne.”

“It will,” Elda promised, drinking in every sight and sound while she had the chance. She committed everything to memory, determined to use Artan’s example as a foundation for her kingdom when she was finally able to take the crown. Nobody in need would be turned away from Eden’s gates. Nobody would be frowned upon for intermingling with one another.

Everyone who passed by them smiled and made the sign of thanks at Gira, raising their fingertips to their foreheads. He nodded back at each and every one of them, perfectly at ease among the people. Elda couldn’t help watching him – the muscle-bound shifter had been so frightening to her at first, but the warmth in him was infectious. He was a gentle creature despite his appearance, and it made her smile to see him relaxed.

His calm demeanour didn’t falter even when they entered the shadow of Artan’s home. The castle was huge and grand, all heavy white stone and towering spires. The ceilings were impossibly tall, and every window was made from intricate stained glass, depicting famous stories of the previous monarchs of Saeryn.

The king chose to meet them in the library, and Elda marvelled at the three stories of shelves laden with what had to be every single book on Valerus. The whole room smelled of old pages and the crackling of a broad hearth, though the fireplace was unlit for the moment. Her fingers itched to reach out and stroke the spines, to feel the titles embossed in the leather, but Reinernudged her away from the shelves and nodded towards a set of plush seats arranged around a low table.

Artan sat in a wing-backed chair, legs stretched out, ankles crossed, a thick leather tome on his lap. A porcelain teacup steamed on the table in front of him. He looked up when he noticed their arrival, closing the book and setting it aside. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, standing to stretch out his hand towards Gira.

“It’s good to see you again so soon, Gira,” he greeted, beaming broadly. “And with Princess Elda, no less!” He looked her up and down, and Elda felt her spine go rigid. “The life of a wielder suits you.” There was only warmth in his eyes, and it made the tightness in her chest relax enough to smile at him.

“It does,” she agreed. “It’s good to see you, Your Majesty.”

“Artan,” he corrected. “Wielders don’t use titles with me.” His eyes passed over the valkyrie, standing silently beside Elda.

“Your Majesty,” she greeted, crossing her fist over her chest in a salute.

“Rukya, I told you not to do that the last time you were here.”

Elda watched the soldier force herself to relax. “Force of habit.”

“No matter. I assume you’re here for an update on what my scouts have found?”

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