Chapter Thirty Six...

Lillian remained gone for the rest of the evening so the others carried on drinking until the sun had vanished and the moon was high in the air. The fire pit continued to burn despite having no obvious fuel source, heating their small seating area in the cool night.

“Whoosh!” Julian yelled dramatically. “And then I cut off its head! I was the night, a phantom!” His words slurred together into a giggle that set Elda off laughing as well. The Vampire had spent the night regaling them with tales of his adventures across Valerus, trying valiantly to keep the attention away from Sypher and their journey to the Weeping Mountain.

The others obliged despite their obvious curiosity, and eventually Julian was weaving stories so grand that Elda couldn’t help but be pulled into them, imagining him and Syd taking on the harsh terrain and fighting off demons as a pair. Each story was interspersed with joyful reunions with his family.

Elda learned Julian had stayed away from Yani for so long because he was being tailed by Harbingers, a type of demon infamous for their keen intelligence. The only time they didn’t stalk him was when he had Sypher close by.

“But why are they chasing you?” she asked.

“He pissed Cynthia off around the time she switched sides to ally with my brother,” Sypher answered.

“I threw a firebomb at her,” Julian boasted proudly.

“And so began four hundred years of intermittent separation,” Yani sighed sadly.

“I always come back to you,” his husband argued, nudging him.

Yani grinned suddenly. “And seeing the joy on your face when you remember how much it annoyed her is worth it.”

“She was pretty mad,” Sypher agreed.

“Almost as mad as when she realised your bond was broken. The second she had you level Nova, she was done for,” Julian chortled. Sypher froze.

“Cynthia had you do what?” Gira and Elda asked together.

“Julian, you moron!” Yani hissed, getting up and dragging him away. Clover excused himself and followed quickly, leaving the two Keepers to stare at the Soul Forge with open mouths. Sypher’s mirth faded, a deep sigh escaping him.

“Cynthia forced me to destroy Nova,” he admitted quietly, setting his ale aside. “I was surprised the Spirits would let her go so far. They only stopped her hold over me when she decided to find Malakai.”

“You owe Julian a life debt because you killed his family,” Elda murmured, suddenly understanding why he was so insistent on feeding them. “You blame yourself.”

“You can’t,” Gira frowned, his cheeks rosy from sharing Clover’s bottle of port. “The Compulsion is beyond your control.”

“When you’ve had someone beg you not to hurt them and then you’ve killed them anyway, come back and tell me who you blame.” He got to his feet and started to walk away, stopping when Elda stumbled after him and caught his hand.

“Wait,” she blurted, frowning up at him. “You weren’t just going to leave me behind were you?”

He cocked his head. “You just learned I destroyed an entire kingdom and you still want to come with me?”

“Yup.”

“You’re so odd,” he muttered, but he stooped and lifted her so she was cradled like a doll against his chest. He turned back to look at Gira warily. “Can we talk more tomorrow? All of us are drunk.”

“We can. And I expect the truth from you, Sypher. All of it.” Gira stood and walked away.

“He sounds mad,” Elda commented.

“He should be. I killed his cousin and then destroyed an entire kingdom.”

“You did?” Elda’s brows rose as she looked up at him. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“I’m sorry she ever met me,” he answered sullenly, making his way back towards the villa when he was sure Gira was gone. Elda let him carry her in silence for a moment, pondering the revelation.

“The old girlfriend!” she exclaimed suddenly, making Sypher jump.

“Vildeh, I almost dropped you!”

“The cousin. Is she the girlfriend Julian told me about on the way to Cenet?”

“Julian told you I had a girlfriend?” he frowned.

“Yes. Was it her?”

“It was her.” He ascended the few steps and ducked inside, carrying her through the corridors until they reached his room where he promptly dumped her on the bed.

“What was her name?” Elda asked, reaching down to try and pull off her boots. She frowned when her fingers refused to obey her.

“Selena.” Sypher sat on the mattress and pulled them off for her, tossing them into the corner of the room. “Can I tell you about her when you’re not drunk?”

“Don’t think I’ll forget,” Elda warned, pointing at him to reinforce her promise. “No more keeping secrets from me.”

“Yes ma’am,” he replied sarcastically, tugging the blanket out from under her. “Are you sleeping in those or will you complain about how awful it is to wear trousers to bed?”

“I don’t suppose you’d go to my room for a nightgown?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at him. He narrowed his eyes at her, then stepped off the bed and into the shadows, reappearing a moment later with a nightgown of hers in his hand.

“Anything else, Your Grace?” he asked, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“No, Your Grace,” she replied coyly. “Princes have their own titles, you know.”

“Just get ready for bed.” He turned away so she could change, respecting her privacy despite his admission that he loved her. In the midst of her alcohol-induced fog she felt warmth blossom in her chest.

“You can look now,” she allowed once the covers were tucked up to her chin. “What are you sleeping in?”

Sypher stepped out of his boots and let his armour disappear, revealing his scarred torso and dark leather trousers. “This.” He saw her eyeing his chest and cocked his head. “I don’t have any tunics that fit over my wings.” He scowled at the feathered limbs over his shoulders. “Is that alright?”

“If it weren’t, I’d return to my own room.” She knew her cheeks were rosy but she hoped he’d pass it off as the effects of the wine. He climbed in beside her, turning onto his side to face her so his wings didn’t get in her way.

“If you get uncomfortable, tell me.”

“I think the only one in fear of being uncomfortable is you. I don’t mind when you touch me,” she chuckled, the wine robbing her of her filter.

“Oh you don’t, do you?” he asked, fighting a smile. “I’m certain I can make you take that back.” She squeaked when he reached out and tugged her closer, tickling her sides until she squealed.

“Alright, I take it back!” she gasped, swatting at him until he stopped, though he didn’t let her go. She turned in his arms, careful not to touch his exposed torso. “That was mean.”

“I keep telling you not to goad me.”

“You tell me not to goad Vel. You’re supposed to be the sensible one.”

“Who told you I was sensible?” Sypher frowned.

“Believe it or not, my father.”

“I’ll have to remind him of that the next time we see him. Usually he calls me an ass.”

Elda grinned. “He wouldn’t be wrong.” She yawned widely, cutting off their banter. When her eyes returned to the Soul Forge he was watching her with an odd expression on his face. “What?”

“I’m just concerned that the more you learn about me, the less you’ll want to be around me,” he admitted quietly. “I promised I’d put everything into training and protecting you. I’m concerned now that I’ve let you in, you’ll shy away when you learn the things I’ve done.”

“It depends on how they were done and what things,” she answered simply. “If you destroyed Nova because you could, then yes, I’d shy away. If you destroyed it because you had no choice then I wouldn’t. Did you have a choice?” He shook his head. Her eyes dropped to the scars on his chest. “Were any of those caused by an innocent person defending themselves against you?” He shook his head again. She took a chance, reaching out and laying her hand against his heart, the ridge of his most prominent scar rough against her palm. “Then I won’t shy away.”

It took him several minutes to adjust to her touching him, but he didn’t pull away from her or flinch. Eventually, his shoulders relaxed. Elda traced the old wound with one fingertip, her brow creasing at its severity.

“Scars from a Soul Blade never fade from me,” he almost whispered, answering her unspoken question. “Lazarus leaves particularly vicious wounds behind.”

“Lazarus?”

“The Spirit entrusted to Cynthia.” He turned onto his back, looking up at the canopy of translucent drapes above the bed. “Of all the Keepers, she was the worst. And I spent the longest time bonded to her.”

“We don’t have to talk about this now,” Elda reassured him gently. “You’ve been through enough.” She paused her brow furrowing. “Although, I do have one question.”

“Ask me anything.”

“You asked Cerilla if she knew what it was like to have her eyes plucked out or the bones cut out of her arm just to see if they’d grow back.” She swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “Did Cynthia really do those things?”

Instead of answering, he raised his right arm and turned it so she could see the underside, where a carefully placed scar bisected the dark runes on his skin from his wrist to the inside of his elbow. A scar easily long enough to get the ulna or radius through.

Swallowing her revulsion at such a heinous act of torture, Elda bent her head and pressed her lips to the scar. “I hope you never have to hurt like that again.”

“I’ve had worse. Waiting for my eyes to grow back was horrendous.”

“You have no scars on your face,” Elda frowned.

“She didn’t use Lazarus to remove them.”

“Did she know they’d grow back?”

“No.”

“Did you?” she asked. His brow furrowed and he shook his head. “That must have been horrible.” She smiled, forcing lightness into her tone. “But I’m glad they grew back, otherwise you’d never have seen my pretty face.” He blinked, a laugh escaping him despite the horrible topic.

“I’ll thank the stars every day for that gift,” he replied, his grin widening. “Enough sad talk. Come here.”

“You’re okay with me touching you like this?”

“Would you rather I wasn’t?” Instead of answering, she scooted into his open arms and laid her head against his chest, sighing contentedly when his heart thudded beneath her ear. It was erratic at first, but it slowed when he relaxed and his fingers began to trace gentle circles between her shoulder blades, slowly lulling her to sleep.

A knock at the door startled them awake just after dawn. Sypher lurched out of bed and opened it to find Julian behind it, a grave expression on his face.

“What’s the matter?” Sypher asked.

“Lillian returned just now. She’s hurt,” the Vampire explained. “She isn’t seriously wounded, but she was attacked on the road back into Valdren.”

“By who?” Elda asked, approaching the door to stand beside them.

“The Corrupted. Abraxos waylaid her when she returned with the nightly patrol. He tried to take her.”

“Is everyone else accounted for?” Sypher asked. The Vampire nodded. “Good. From now on the Keepers stay together.” He called on his armour, shadows dragging in from all corners of the room to encase him in the formidable black suit right down to the shadowed hood. “Keep everyone inside the villa.”

Before anyone could stop him, Sypher ran down the corridor and out into the garden, taking to the skies and angling towards the gates.

“Shit,” Julian muttered. Elda barged past him and ran to her room, dragging on a pair of trousers and a tunic in record time. She’d barely stuffed her feet into her boots before Irileth was in her hand and she was running towards the stables. Julian tried to stop her but she slipped his grasp, heading for Syd.

“I need you to take me to Sypher,” she pleaded breathlessly as soon as the winged horse was in sight, unhooking the latch on the stable door in an effort to get away before the Vampire could catch up with her. The tulpar demon pawed the ground eagerly, nudging the stable door out of the way to get outside. Elda hoisted herself into the saddle, wrapping the reins around her wrist and tapping her heels against Syd’s sides just as Julian burst into the garden. There was barely time to see him clutch his hair with both hands before Elda was winging her way to the gates after her husband.