Resurrection (Book Three of the Soul Forge series)

Every able-bodied person worked through the night and the next day to get the injured ready for travel, patching up wounds, fetching rations and clearing more rubble to make a path to the ruined main gate.

The dragons lifted chunks of stone and shattered beams in their talons, those blessed with water or ice in their breath working to locate any final smouldering ruins and stem the blaze.

Elda watched the Soul Forge ignore his wounds and get to work healing people until he could barely stand, but when she asked him to stop, he waved her away and told her not to worry. She knew he was hurting - he hadn't stopped to heal himself before helping the people laid up in the tents.

He'd paused long enough to visit Ember, but when he returned from the main gate his face was unreadable, and he came back alone, going right back to the monumental task of clearing the wreckage without a word.

When he finally paused, night had fallen again, and it was only because he couldn't stay on his feet. He was carrying a hunk of stone to one of the many piles when his ankle gave out and sent him to his knees with a pained groan.

"You need to stop," Elda pleaded. "You're no good to anyone if you're not strong."

"I'll stop when you do," he replied. When her brows pulled together, he smiled. "Fine. Help me back to the tents. Both of us need food and sleep."

She ducked under his arm, leaving the rock where it was and letting him lean on her until they were in the darkness of the makeshift shelter. Even in the midst of ruin, the soldiers had set up a partition to give them some privacy.

"I wish they hadn't treated us differently," she mumbled, collapsing onto the cot beside his. "They worked so hard. This was unnecessary."

"You're a monarch," Sypher reminded her, laying on his front to avoid hurting his wings. "Even in war, you're royalty. The soldiers respect you."

"You're a prince too.”

"Am I?" he asked, his one red iris glowing in the dark. "Eden has an empty throne now. I'm only a monarch if I'm married to its new ruler."

Elda's heart started to pound. With everything that had happened, she hadn't stopped to think of the implications of her parents death beyond her grief. The crown would pass to her.

"I'm not ready to be a queen," she blurted.

"Your father wasn't ready to be a king, either," he replied. "However, if you choose to abdicate, I'll respect whatever decision you make. The choice is yours."

"I don't have the energy for choices."

His chuckle was weary. "Then close your eyes, maite."

"I can't. You died. You were gone."

He reached out a hand to clasp hers between the cots. "I know."

"Did it hurt?"

"It always hurts," he mumbled. "Don't torture yourself like this. I'm okay now."

"But you're not, are you?" she whispered. "You're no more okay than I am. Look at you, Sypher. You’re riddled with wounds that aren’t yours on top of what you woke up with. You haven’t slept, you haven’t eaten.”

He sighed and turned onto his side with a quiet groan. "No. I'm not okay. My power killed your parents, El. Whether you believe it was me or not, if I hadn't gotten scratched none of this would have happened. I'm responsible."

"There isn't a single person in this city who believes that," Elda answered, squeezing his fingers gently. "Everyone saw what they did to you. They don't blame you for what happened any more than they blame the people trapped in that horde."

"I blame myself."

"But it was my fault," she whispered, swallowing against the sudden thickness in her throat. "I trusted Hephaestus with everything. If I hadn't..." The words refused to come out.

"Come here." In the dark, she saw him open his arms, scooting back on his cot to make room for her. She slid into the space he left, sighing when his arms folded tightly around her. "I know what Hephaestus said to you when I was taken. He told me."

"He was right."

"Bullshit." The Soul Forge shifted so she was beneath him, both halves of his soul staring down at her. "Listen to me. You watched me die. You knew I'd be brought back here to end you, and what did you do?" She said nothing. "Did you run?" She shook her head. "No you didn't. You organised an evacuation. You led a damn army, El. When your parents fell, you didn't stop. You fought. You kept your friends fighting."

"They wouldn't have-"

"Ssh." He pressed a finger to her lips. "No more denial. No more self-loathing. I do enough of that for the both of us. You are strong, and smart, and braver than anyone I’ve ever met. You have more power than you realise and you are not to blame. All of us were used as pawns, not just you."

It took several moments before Elda could reply. "How is it fair for me to stop the self-loathing when you haven't?" she croaked eventually.

He sagged, his nose almost touching hers for a moment. “I'm working on it. I have about seven-hundred-and-eighty more years of self-hatred to work through than you. It takes time to kick the habit." When she nodded, he kissed her forehead again.

"Why do you keep kissing my forehead and not my lips?" she mumbled, trying to lighten the mood so she didn’t cry.

His head cocked. "Is it bothering you?"

"Yes."

He shrugged. "I didn't think you'd want to kiss someone who's been dead for days."

"Did you clean your teeth?"

"Obsessively, as soon as I got the chance." Even in the shadows, she saw his nose wrinkle. "My mouth tasted so much like blood that I threw up while moving rubble. Reiner took pity on me and found some miswak in one of the first aid kits."

"Then what's your problem?" When he didn't answer, she frowned. "Are you worried they made you eat someone?"

"No. I’d have noticed if I threw up parts of a person. I'm worried you think they made me eat someone."

"Did you have anything disgusting between your teeth? A lingering taste for flesh?" she asked.

"This is the weirdest conversation I've ever had," he muttered. When she arched an eyebrow, he rolled his eyes. "I don't feel like eating anyone, alright?"

"Then kiss me, idiot."

Before he could reply, she stretched up and pressed her lips to his. There was a faint bitter taste to the kiss, evidence that he had indeed used miswak, but it was covered by the mint of the herbal painkillers the healers favoured.

She pulled him closer, but he winced and pulled back, one hand moving to press against his ribs. His forehead touched her chest for a moment, like it was hard to take in a breath.

"Why haven't you healed?" she asked softly, stroking his hair and urging him to lay down. He did as she asked, his weight on her comforting after the crippling feeling of losing him.

"Can't," he mumbled, sounding drowsy. "I haven't regained enough energy for my natural regeneration to work and I'm too tired to force it."

“You managed to heal people today.”

“Healing others is different to healing me. It’s an Angelic talent. Forcibly fixing myself is something I can do as Soul Forge. And right now I don’t have the energy.”

"Then get some rest. That usually helps you."

"Are you alright with me sleeping here?" he asked, his voice growing quieter. "I'm heavy."

"I need the weight to remind me you're not gone."

He exhaled slowly, then tightened his arms around her. "Alright. Wake me if it gets too much."

"I will. I love you."

"Love you too," both sides of him mumbled back, already drifting to sleep.