Page 5 of Soul Forge

“Choose, or I will choose for you,” he warned.

“I cannot provide for my family, for my son, if I die here today,” Yarrow answered, his voice suddenly painfully calm. Elda met his gaze, and the look in his eyes cracked her heart right down the middle. He blamed her, just like he should. It was her fault.

“Then you choose the coward’s punishment?” Hrothgar asked.

Yarrow kept his eyes on the princess, pinning her with his stare. “I do.”

“Break your oath, boy.”

“I’m sorry!” Elda cried. “Please, father!”

The king jerked his gaze to her, the disgust in it silencing her pleas. She saw in his eyes the promise of more violence if she didn’t bend to his will. So she sat still and closed her mouth, fearing that his next target would be Reiner. Her stomach rolled, but she forced herself to look Yarrow in the eyes again. She found no forgiveness in them, and that was how it should be. He should hate her for the rest of his life for what she’d done to him.

“This punishment should be mine,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

The soldier’s face remained blank, but tears welled in his eyes. He blinked them away and turned to the king. Elda watched his shoulders tense, her own spine turning rigid in anticipation.

“I, Yarrow Braven, break my oath of fealty to the crown of Eden.”

His scream rattled the windows. Elda watched his back arch, the oath rune dissolving itself by burning his skin until it was nothing more than a charred, oozing mess. His arm twisted, the crack of bone ricocheting off the walls as magic ravaged his body. The burning spread until his entire arm and part of his chest were engulfed in crackling orange power, surging downwards to claim his leg as well. The limb jerked and snapped, drawing a fresh howl from Yarrow’s lips.

Elda couldn’t blink, couldn’t look away while he writhed on the floor, the smell of burning meat filling the space until she gagged. Still, the magic surged, branding him with wounds that she knew would never heal.

Because of her. All because of her.

When the magic died at last, half of Yarrow’s body was bent and broken, his skin a mix of oozing red and crumbling black. His eyes were closed, his breaths ragged. The king gestured for Reiner to take the soldier away, turning to open the nearest window without bothering to speak.

The captain stooped to lift Yarrow, undeterred by the smell of cooking meat. When he settled over her shoulder, she turned and shot Elda a warning look.Be careful,it meant. Elda had received that look from her a thousand times.

But this was different. Her father had never maimed a man in front of her before. The look became something entirely new after that. A plea as well as a warning because Elda knew Reiner was next on the list of casualties if she stepped out of line again.

The tears dried on her cheeks, her whole frame trembling, but she lifted her head to find her father watching her. She wasn’t sure if her legs would allow her to stand yet, so she stayed sitting, trying not to vomit right there on the chancery floor.

“You have a banquet to attend,” the king said, returning to his seat and steepling his fingers on the desk. “You will dance with your suitors. You will smile. You will be the beautiful, polite, chaste princess they are expecting. You will not complain, you will not be rude, and when the time comes, you will accept Horthan’s proposal for the good of your people. Am I clear?” Elda nodded. “Get out.”

She rose on wobbly legs and left the chancery, keeping the wall beneath her palm in case her knees buckled. Two guards detached themselves from the alcoves, making sure she went straight to her chambers. She turned away before their faces could register in her mind, knowing they’d haunt her nightmares if she failed her father again.

She kept her emotions inside until she reached her bedroom, but her control shattered the moment the door closed. Everything she’d witnessed, everything she’d felt, welled up inside her until it overflowed in a scream that scraped her throat on the way out.

She tore off the quiver still hanging from her shoulder, snapping the strap, and launched it across the room in a shower of arrows.

Your fault.

The cloak went next, landing in a heap on the floor.

It was your fault.

She smashed her beloved bow against her bedpost until it snapped in half, tossing the two pieces at the wall before sinking to her knees and weeping.

Walking to the banquet hall was like wading through mud, only made harder by the train on Elda’s dress. It billowed behind her in soft layers of pale blue. Every inch of her was immaculate, from her sparkling tiara to the dainty powder-blue shoes on her feet. Her handmaid, Persephone, had dutifully cleaned the dirt away, primping and teasing her hair until she was once again a perfect royal.

And the whole time, Elda had stared into the mirror on her dresser to find Yarrow’s charred face glaring back. The poisonous voice in her mind had torn her to shreds, and her memories replayed his screams over and over. It was a miracle she’d even been able to stand by the time Persephone was finished with her.

The hall doors swung open, releasing cheerful music in a mocking greeting. The sound snapped her out of her malaise enough to notice the sea of faces turned to gawk at her like a prized sow at a market. Any other day, she’d complain. But that was before she got an innocent person hurt.

“Welcome, everyone,” the king greeted. His smile was a million miles away from the monster in the chancery. “Thank you all for joining us in celebrating such a momentous occasion. Today, my daughter will choose the next prince of Eden!”

Elda flinched when the room erupted. Tankards and goblets clanged against the tabletop in a harsh accompaniment to the cheers. All she could think was how she was beautified, unharmed, and attending a feast while the soldier she’d maimed was in agony, unable to hold a sword for the rest of his life.