Chapter Eight..

Elda stared around the royal suite in horror. It was beautiful, astoundingly so, with its high ceilings, large windows and gilded furniture. Everything was perfectly placed, from the elegant sitting room right down to the huge four poster bed in the next room.

“You’ve gone green. Are you alright?” Sypher was leaning against the wooden dresser with his arms folded, head cocked as he watched her flit from one room to another in a panic.

“No!” She looked again at the bed dominating the sleeping quarters, and her heart began to pound frantically, blood pulsing in her ears.

“No amount of staring at it will make it disappear.”

“This isn’t funny!”

“Of course it is.” He pushed away from his perch and sauntered towards the bedroom, taking hold of the fabric of her skirt and tugging her along with him. “It’s a bed. It won’t bite.”

“I’m not afraid of the bed!" she yelled, yanking herself out of his hold. He studied her face for a second, eyes narrowing dangerously..

“Oh, I know, Princess.” He stalked forwards, backing her up until her shoulder blades touched the bed post. The fire in his eyes flattened out until there was barely any red remaining, his face an inch from hers. Even though he didn’t touch her, she was afraid.

“What are you doing?”

“I saved your ass in that hallway,” he growled. “I saved you again at the engagement banquet. My whole existence revolves around keeping you alive and safe.” Her heart tapped so hard against her ribs, she was surprised it didn’t burst through them. “If I wanted to live up to your low expectations of me, I would, and who would stop me?”

“Nobody,” she stammered.

“Exactly. Let me tell you a secret.” He put his lips next to her ear, and every one of her muscles locked up. “I don’t want you, Princess, so don’t flatter yourself into thinking I might take advantage of you.” He straightened up and stepped back into the shadows, leaving her alone in her new room. She dropped onto the mattress and crooked an arm over her face until her pounding heart slowed, tears pricking her eyes. Fear had robbed her of rationality, and in turn, she’d offended the one person that saved her from becoming Horthan’s wife. Yes, he was brash, bullheaded, and he had the manners of a savage, but he had been there when she needed him.

Elda sat up slowly and looked out of the window, eyes falling on an outdoor terrace. She made a beeline for it, suddenly desperate to feel fresh air on her face. The night was cool, the sun hidden behind the horizon, staining the sky the same shade as the fire in Sypher’s eyes.

The events of the last two days were mind boggling, so much so that it hurt to try and think about. She’d been chased by a pack of demons, assaulted, rescued by a man who hated her, selected as Keeper, and then married the Saviour of Valerus. She stayed outside for a while, pondering the absurdity of everything she’d been through.

Eventually her thoughts returned to Sypher. He obviously wasn’t going to take advantage of her. A part of her was wracked with guilt. She’d essentially accused him of being no better than Horthan. He seemed to despise her - she could chalk a good chunk of it up to her assuming the worst of him, but there was something more.

It was a certainty that if she wasn’t a Keeper, he’d be as indifferent to her as anyone else. But what had the previous Keepers done to make him so resentful? Her father had told her stories of the Corrupted; a pair of Keepers who broke away from their intended path and sided with a Greater Demon. Elda wondered if that was why he was so sour towards her. Perhaps he thought she’d do the same.

She gave up when the sky was black and spattered with stars, returning inside to awkwardly shimmy out of her wedding dress. Persephone was instructed to stay away by the Queen, so Elda had to wiggle out of the corsets on her own. Eventually, she was nestled in the plush bedding, too exhausted and overwhelmed to think anymore. Sypher didn’t return that night, leaving her to her restless sleep.

“Rise and shine, Princess.” Elda flinched at the loud voice and shut her eyes against the low sunlight streaming in through the open curtains.

“I didn’t ask for a wake up call,” she muttered, sleep clinging to her too tightly to be embarrassed about Sypher seeing her in her nightwear. She put her face back into the soft pillow.

“You have three seconds to get your royal ass out of bed before I kick it out.”

“Go away.”

“You asked for it.” She yelped when he reached under the blanket and found the edge of her night gown, yanking her out of the bed and onto her feet in one quick tug. She blinked up at him, startled by his strength. He looked formidable in a more intricate version of his black armour, gloved hands resting on his hips. “You remember that thing I told you, about how your training is going to go?” he asked.

“Enlighten me,” she ground out, scowling up at him.

“I say punch, you punch. I say run, you run.”

“Oh, you mean where you confirmed you have a god complex and you think I’m going to pander to it?” For a fraction of a second, he almost looked impressed.

“If you want to call it that,” he shrugged. “Either way, it’s time to start listening because I won’t repeat myself again. Get. Dressed.”

“What do I need to pack for travelling?” she asked irritably. “Valdren is a week’s journey.”

“Not for us it isn’t. Clothes for two days should be enough.” He waved his hand and a black hood coalesced around his head, shadows from all corners of the room drawing in around him and solidifying until his face was completely hidden. Elda blinked. “Shadow armour,” he shrugged. “Get packing.”

“It’s not possible to cover that distance in such a short amount of time.”

“Not on horseback, no.”

“We’re not riding there?” He shook his head. “Then what are we doing?”

“It’s a surprise,” he answered sarcastically. “Just hurry up.” He stalked out towards the terrace before she could say anything else to him.

“Ass,” she muttered, scowling at the doors for a second before trudging to the dresser. When she was dressed in a tunic and trousers, she slipped on her new brown boots and bracers, tying the front of her hair out of the way and leaving the rest loose. She grabbed her new bow and quiver, setting them on the bed and stuffing two sets of clothes and some healing salve into a leather pack.

When her boots were laced, she stomped out onto the terrace. She stopped abruptly, the pack slipping from her fingers and landing at her feet. Sypher stood with his back to her, his hands on the low stone wall surrounding the terrace. He turned when he heard the pack drop.

Sprouting from his back were two huge, glorious, incredible wings. The early morning sunlight gave the deep black feathers a subtle shine, the breeze ruffling them gently. Coupled with his strange armour that seemed to shift like liquid to accommodate them, he looked like a destroying Angel.

“By the Spirits,” Elda gasped, the cold air stinging her wide eyes. “What are you?”

“Impatient,” the Soul Forge retorted. “Are you done freaking out?”

“Nope.” She crept forwards, tiptoeing towards him as though she were afraid he might disappear. He sighed and folded his arms.

“Hurry up and get over your fawning,” he muttered. “We need to go.” She ignored him, reaching out to touch the nearest wing with awe. The feathers were smoother than silk beneath her fingertips. She succumbed to the urge to sink her hand into them, and the limb twitched away from her.

“Snap out of it.” The command from Sypher was followed by the wing she’d stroked batting her gently in the face, his tone sharp.

“You really expect me to fly with you to Valdren? What if you drop me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“I’m serious,” she muttered.

“So am I. Are you coming or not?”

Elda chewed her lip, less than thrilled with the idea of being carried any distance through the air. But if she didn’t go, she couldn’t become a real Keeper, and that meant the people of Valerus would suffer at the hands of whatever was coming.

“How do we do this?” she asked reluctantly.

“You keep hold of these.” He stooped to pick up her dropped pack, passing it to her along with a smaller pack of his own. She slipped them over her shoulders and secured them around her midsection, careful not to tangle them up with her bow and quiver.

“Are you going to carry me?”

“How else do you expect to get there?” he asked, one dark brow quirking upwards. “Sit on the wall.”

“What?”

“Spirits, give me strength,” he groaned, and then he picked her up by the waist and sat her on the wall before she could object. “Don’t fall.” Elda gripped the stone with both hands, the sudden empty space and steep drop at her back making her stomach roll uncomfortably. She leaned away from the fall, watching Sypher turn so his back was to her. “Hold onto me.” He crouched a little, gripping her thighs when he felt her fingers tighten on his shoulders and hoisting her onto his back. She settled in the hollow between his wings.

“Are you seriously telling me this is how we’re travelling? Can you even fly like this?”

“Yup. Hold tight.” He hopped onto the wall and stepped off the balcony. Elda screamed, arms constricting around Sypher as tightly as she could hold on. The wind tore at her, threatening to rip her from his back when the ground rushed up to meet them. He splayed his wings and caught an updraft that sent them soaring upwards again, banking left and angling himself towards the west coast. Elda kept her face pressed into his shoulder, frozen in fear even when he levelled out.

“Worst bit’s over,” he grunted, tapping her arms. She forced herself to loosen them. “You can open your eyes, you know.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’m not going to drop you.” He raised his voice to be heard over the wind.

“And if it’s out of your control?” she called back.

“Then I catch you again.”

“What if the wind picks up and I’m blown off your back?” she panicked, her legs squeezing his hips tighter at the thought of falling.

“Damn Princess, ease up. You’re going to bruise me. I can’t fly, manipulate the air and heal at the same time.”

“Manipulate the air?” she dared to ask. “How?”

“Like this.” He waved a hand and the wind lessened all of a sudden, her hair no longer whipping out behind her. “It takes concentration.”

“You have elemental magic?”

“And umbramancy.”

“How is that possible?” She expected him not to answer, but a sigh rippled through him and he turned his head to look at her, giving her a glimpse of one burning red eye. She hadn’t expected the shadows to retract while he flew.

“I’m a half-breed. One talent from each side.”

“What species were your parents?”

“I never had parents. I started this life as you see me now, minus a few scars.”

“How is that possible?”

“Beats me.” He looked back out in the direction they were headed, tilting his wings to adjust their course slightly. His whole body was tense beneath her, though she couldn’t understand why.

“How can you not know?”

“Because the Spirits decide what they want to tell me. Which for the last eight hundred years has been pretty much nothing.” His tone soured again, signalling the end of their brief conversation. Elda was surprised he’d shared anything about himself. She’d all but resigned herself to never learning a thing about him.

“I’m sorry,” she admitted after a while of flying in silence. “I shouldn’t have assumed you’d behave like Horthan once we were married. I panicked. I shouldn’t have treated you that way, Saviour.”

“Sypher.” He turned his head and again she saw the side of his face. “I can’t stand titles.”

“Is there anything you don’t hate?”

“Nope.”

“You can’t hate everything.” She nudged his shoulder. “Tell me one thing you like and I promise I won’t speak again until we land.”

“You want to know that badly?”

“I do.”

“And you won’t talk for the rest of the journey?”

“Not a word.” She waited for him to weigh up the benefits.

“...I like to read,” he admitted eventually. “It’s getting hard to find books I haven’t already read these days, but that’s what I like to do.”

“That surprises me.”

“Nuh-uh, no more talking.” He turned to look at her over his shoulder again, a wide grin on his face. “You promised.” Elda rolled her eyes, scowling at the back of his head when he beat his wings harder to pick up speed, carrying them across Valerus at an eye watering pace. She wondered what was waiting for her in Valdren.

Hours passed, the landscape changing from swathes of forest to rolling green hills and deep valleys. On the horizon was a line of huge, bruised looking clouds. They stretched as far as she could see in either direction, pelting the ground below with heavy rain.

“Looks like we’re getting wet,” Sypher mused, breaking the silence at last.

“Can’t we go over it?” Elda asked.

“Sure, if you want to suffocate.” He started to angle lower, aiming beneath the cloud cover. “In the pack I brought, there’s a cloak. Put it on.” She carefully unhooked the bag from her shoulders and reached inside, stomach lurching at the knowledge that her legs locked round his torso were the only things keeping her seated.

“Why can’t we go through the clouds?”

“I need my eyes to see. I’m not a bat.” She pulled out a cloak of black so deep it seemed to shimmer, fashioned from thousands of scales of varying sizes. For a moment, she was stunned by both its beauty, and the work that had gone into it. “Hurry up.” Sypher’s instruction prompted her to fasten it around her neck, the heavy material shielding her from the cold immediately.

She pulled up the hood and put her hands back on his shoulders just as the first drops of rain hit them. In seconds water was sluicing off his feathers and running down Elda’s cloak in rivulets. She could feel the extra strain on his wings when his shoulders tensed beneath her, but he kept them on a straight course.

A blood chilling shriek to their right caught Elda’s attention, but she couldn’t see anything through the torrential downpour and the gloom cast by the clouds. Everything was a mix of grey on grey, darkening by the minute as the meagre sunlight faded to night. Another scream sounded, much closer this time.

“Shit,” Sypher cursed. “If you tell anyone I said this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life. I want you to choke me.”