Free The Sword and the Sylph (Elemental Series) by Elizabeth Rose Page A

on letting out his anger in a warrior’s fashion. He only pitied the man he’d be paired with, as he had much pent up anger to release today.
    He had a mean workout the rest of the morning, scaring off several of Lord Solomon’s knights who graciously bowed out of the practice for one reason or another. Only Sir Samuel met Braden’s challenge. And once or twice he looked bewildered when Braden’s anger for the sylph was released and he attacked like a mad man.
    Lord Solomon came to watch the practice, which only made Braden practice harder. Thankfully the fae girl hadn’t played her tricks upon him in the practice yard and because of this he’d managed have a good workout with the weapons, impressing Lord Solomon with his skill of not only the sword but the lance and mace as well.
    “Good job, today Sir Braden,” the man said happily as they made their way back to the lord’ s solar. Sir Samuel joined them.
    “He almost took my head off a couple of times,” complained Sir Samuel, “but I have to admit his skill with the weapons is impressive indeed.”
    They entered the room and made themselves comfortable. The cupbearer was at the door immediately, pouring them each a cold ale.
    “I had no idea you were so skilled with any weapon put in your hand,” said Sir Samuel.
    “I told you he was loyal and could protect my daughter,” replied Lord Solomon before Braden could even answer.
    “I was born with a sword in my hand,” said Braden with a smile.
    “Ouch! I feel sorry for your poor mother,” joked the other knight and they all laughed.
    “Who are your parents, anyway?” asked the lord of the castle. “I do hope you plan on inviting them to the wedding.”
    Sir Braden didn’t really want to talk about his parents. He’d lost his mother at an early age, and not seen his father in over two decades, nor did he want to.
    “They won’t be coming to the wedding,” he said, staring into his cup as he spoke.
    The wind blew the door to the room open, and the cupbearer ran over and closed it. The scent of lilacs filled the room and he knew they had an invisible visitor.
    “Why wouldn’t they be at their own son’s wedding?” asked Solomon. “Are they by any chance dead?”
    “Aye, my mother is deceased ,” he answered, still feeling the loss after all these years.
    “And what about your father? I am sure he would want to be here to see his son being married.”
    “I don’t know,” he answered hoping for a change in the conversation. “I haven’t seen my father in many years.”
    “Then al l the more reason to invite him, as I am sure he would want to see how fine his son turned out being fostered by another lord. I’ll send a messenger anon. Tell me, where does he live?”
    “I . . . don’t know,” he said, knowing that it wasn’t really a lie. He’d not seen him in years, nor knew where to find him, and he really didn’t care. “He travels overseas often, and I am not sure how to contact him.”
    “Well, what a shame,” said Lord Solomon holding out his cup for the servant to refill it. “As I would truly like to meet him, and you’ve yet to even tell me his name. As a matter of fact, neither do I know much at all about the man who is betrothed to my daughter.”
    “Aye, do tell us more, Sir Braden,” ur ged Sir Samuel, leaning back in his chair. “Tell us about yourself, please.”
    “There is not much to tell,” he said, feeling very uncomfortable. “I was an only child, and sent to be fostered from one castle to another, finally pledging my loyalty to the Duke of Manterra.”
    “Aye, the duke is a fine warrior as well,” said the lord with a nod of his head. “He is known as Duke the Destroyer for the amount of lands he’s seized and men he’s killed.”
    “I do think he prefers to just be called Lord Wolfe these days,” said Braden, getting to his feet.
    “I never understood that,” said Solomon. “What duke does not want to use his title?”
    “Lord Wolfe is very