Page 8 of Soul Forge

“Thank you,” she mumbled quickly, curtseying to the stranger and neatening the remains of her updo. “I shouldn’t have been out here without a chaperone. I appreciate your help, sir.” She gathered her skirts in her hands and dashed back towards the crowds before he could utter a word. When she looked back, Reiner was staring at him.

“Sir,” the captain echoed, bowing quickly before following Elda back into the hall. She stuck close to the princess until she was safely back in her seat.

“There you are!” King Hrothgar exclaimed. “I was beginning to think you’d run off.” His tone was light, but the pinched lines around his eyes were anything but humorous. The look the captain gave him sapped some of the rosy tint from his cheeks.

“I needed a moment,” Elda replied, leaving out the details. “I was overwhelmed.” She glanced down at her wrists, studying theunblemished skin and wondering who, orwhat,had saved her in the hallway.

And Reiner hadn’t attacked him. She’d bowed to him. Who could he be for the captain of Eden’s army, for avalkyrie, to bow to him?

A loud clap from her father jerked her attention back to the banquet. He got to his feet and clapped again, the sound echoing off the vaulted ceilings until every eye in the room was on him. Elda fixed her gaze on the intricate mouldings surrounding the hanging chandeliers, breathing deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. She knew what would come next.

“Are there any other introductions to be made?” Hrothgar asked, surveying his guests. When silence followed, he nodded. “Alright then. It’s time for the suitors to give their formal pledges. Anyone who does not state their intentions now will not be heard later.”

Hrothgar settled beside his queen, who had sat silently since the ceremony began, and took her hand, the picture of a united front. She was the embodiment of poise and grace, pious and chaste, well-trained after years of marriage. She spoke only when spoken to, the perfect accessory to hang from his arm, and her devotion to both the Spirits and the king was unshakeable. The smile on her face suggested she was enjoying herself, but Elda knew better.

The princess sank lower in her chair, wishing the ground would swallow her whole when the four suitors lined up. Thoughts of the stranger were forgotten when Horthan leered at her, the sight of his golden eyes sending her right back to the hallway. She looked away before she could hyperventilate, clenching her skirts in her fists to control the tremors running through her fingers.

Twice in one day, she’d been endangered by her own foolishness. Her stupidity had almost gotten her killed. It hadharmed an innocent man. It almost had her violated in her own home. What else would she do wrong before the day was out?

“I am Lord Rhydian Horthan of Falkryn,” the shifter stated, his voice ringing out as clear as a bell. “I announce my intentions to wed the princess, joining Falkryn and Eden as allied kingdoms.” He puffed out his chest, his smile sickeningly smug. “In exchange for her hand, I offer my army and naval fleet in its full capacity, Your Majesty.”

Elda shuddered, trying her best to drown out the rest of his pledge. It was hard, especially when he mentioned bearing ‘strong male heirs’ to succeed Eden’s throne. By the end of his speech, her head spun so much, she had to grab the table to avoid toppling out of her chair.

When Horthan unleashed his beast, his body twisting and morphing into a huge golden lion right in front of the entire court, her vision began to darken. Sheer will was the only thing keeping her conscious when he finished his preening with a bone-shaking roar, tossing his silken mane and returning to his regular form in its gleaming armour.

Two of the further three pledges were on a similar vein, offering riches she didn’t need and children she didn’t want. Thurla promised to make her gifts from the wood, presenting a flute he’d sung from the bark of the enormous silkwood tree that housed most of Bratus’ population. It was beautiful, the surface bearing the natural rings that denoted the vast age of his home, lacquered with a varnish that made it shine under the chandeliers. He told her how they would play that very flute for their children and how he would teach her the ancient songs his people used to shape nature to their will.

Falmyr’s pledge focussed on the riches his people had to offer. He promised a steady supply of moonstone from the mines carved into the mountains overlooking his kingdom, vowing tomake Eden the richest kingdom on the continent. Their children would be beautiful and graceful like the fae.

Elda watched Reiner’s expression darken with each pledge, her fists clenching and unclenching in a permanent loop.

The only suitor that didn’t mention impregnating Elda was Artan, the human king of Saeryn. He was soft spoken, with kind blue eyes, a full beard and well-worn laugh lines that proved he was quick to smile. But, like all the others, he addressed her father instead of speaking to her, reminding her that she was still just a commodity to be bought and sold.

His kingdom specialised in weapons manufacturing. They had soldiers and ships. They had the finest tapestries and artwork money could buy, and he offered it all to her in exchange for her hand. Human art held a quality like no other, their shorter lifespans giving them a thirst for beauty that shone so much brighter than the pieces created by those with longevity. Elda would have adored a painting of the world from their eyes, but it would burn with the rest of her kingdom if she chose him.

Queen Meridia flashed a dazzling smile and rose from her chair. “Thank you, gentlemen.” Elda’s stomach knotted, the last dregs of her limited freedom slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She would be a slavein Falkryn.

“How honoured we are to know there is such interest in an alliance with our fair city,” Meridia continued. Her usually pinched features were softened by makeup, her severe bun traded for dark curls cascading down her back. “We will now consider your pledges. Please take some time to–”

“Your Majesty.” A voice rose above the crowd, cutting off the queen and eliciting a gasp from the guests.

Elda knew that voice. Deep and smooth as honey, its resonance settling low down in her chest. She turned to find its owner standing at the foot of the dais, faint wisps of theshadows that had transported him there cascading around him like smoke.

He looked the same as he had when he threw Horthan at the wall – clad in his dark armour, that black sword strapped across his back. Except this time, there was no heavy hood concealing his features. Elda’s jaw dropped. His likeness in the colourful window murals didn’t do him justice.

“Soul Forge!” someone cried from the back of the room. Murmurings followed, and Elda was able to pick out words like ‘saviour’ and ‘hero’ in the garbled noise. Many of the people in the hall dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Even her parents rose from their thrones.

Six-and-a-half feet tall, with broad shoulders accentuated by the black pauldrons fastened to them, he was the most striking man she’d ever seen. Dark runes were etched into his skin, peeking out from the collar of his armour and winding up his throat.

His jaw was sharp enough to cut glass, his features so perfectly constructed, it almost hurt to look at. Startling white hair was pushed away from his face and set to one side, a few strands falling over his forehead. Dark brows knit together behind those strands in sharp contrast to the pale white. His high cheekbones were swept by the long, dark lashes that framed his eyes whenever he blinked.

And whateyesthey were. Deep, stormy crimson irises, set within a sclera and pupil so black they seemed bottomless. Light flickered within the redness, banking and ebbing in a constant pattern. Standing before her was Sypher, the saviour of Valerus.

Elda worked hard to stop her jaw from hanging at the hinge.

“Please forgive my interruption,” the Soul Forge continued, unfazed by the shows of reverence. “I must ask for the engagement proceedings to be halted.” Elda’s heart lurched, andanother gasp fluttered around the room. Had the Spirits really sent him to rescue her?

She’d read about him in books, and she saw his likeness in the palace windows every day. He was famous for slaying monsters she could only imagine in her worst nightmares. She’d grown up hearing tales of his heroic acts and the many people he’d saved. He’d trained champions chosen by the Spirits in times of great need, fought alongside kings, and slain demons in their thousands. His efforts had saved every life on the continent more than once.

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