Page 116 of The Last Syphon

“And what about the other villages within the Borderlands? The ones not so close to the Arelian border? There are hundreds of them, spread throughout that distance.”

“An aerial survey was conducted, and the entirety of the Borderlands was mapped out, including the locations of all the villages. It will take roughly three and a half years for it to reach the next village.”

Some of the fear consuming her ebbed. “You’re seriously handling this.”

He seemed insulted. “Of course I am. This is a serious matter. We have already begun preparations for evacuation.”

Inara’s brow arched high. “Evacuation? You’re attempting to relocate people in the Borderlands?” She felt like laughing. “How is that going?”

“Fine,” he answered, a little too quickly.

“Let me guess. They told you to stick it where the sun don’t shine.”

His brows snapped together in confusion. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Of course you don’t.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “I say this with as much politeness as I can muster, but they won’t listen to you, no matter what you say. Their home could be burning down all around them, and they still won’t leave.”

“Then they die.” He shrugged. Inara had a feeling that the prince wasn’t as unbothered by that as he was trying to portray.

Determination steeled her spine. “No. They won’t.” She was going to figure out what the fuck was going on, even if it meant flying out there her fucking herself.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Aknock sounded at the door, and not a moment later, it swung open, almost hitting her Overlord in the back. He turned, and although his face did not change expression, there was a hint of frustration surrounding him.

“Oh. I apologise, my Prince.”

Ugh.

It was Larissa.

The woman was utterly stunning. Her thick, long golden hair was free, running in perfect curls down her slender body. Her dress…By Fates, her dress was the most beautiful gown Inara had ever seen. Blood-red, cut down the middle with a near-perfect view of the rounds of her breasts. A slit ran up both sides, showing a seductive amount of skin that would catch anyone’s eye.

Expensive jewellery hung around her neck. Dangled from her ears. Wrapped around her wrist—a mix of gold, silver, and bronze. Heels accentuated her height, making her almost as tall as Inara.

Inara was jealous of her, but not for the reasons one might think.

Because she was wearing a dress, and she looked amazing in it.

Why did she get to wear a dress and Inara was stuck in the Shielder robes?

“I didn’t mean to interrupt you. I saw the representatives of Pregon and Roylan leave, and I thought I might come to collect you for the dance—” Her gaze suddenly caught on Inara, and her entire demeanour changed. Anger, hot and pure, blazed in her eyes. “You,” she all but snarled.

Inara smiled sweetly. “Me. Hello, Larissa. How are you this eve?” She didn’t really care, of course, but the kinder she was to the woman, the more it pissed her off, so, it was a win either way in her book.

Larissa chose not to answer. She looked back to Prince Walder, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “My Prince? The dance?” Her arm hovered slightly in the air between them, as if she was waiting for him to take it and escort her to the dance floor.

He looked down at her arm and back up quickly, brows creased. “I will be dancing with my Shielder, as I always do.”

She backed up a step. “I am your Shielder.”

Inara raised a finger. “Think I am.”

“No one is talking to you,” Larissa hissed.

Oh, she’d seen anger before, but man, the fury radiating from Larissa was more than Inara had ever witnessed in her life.

“It was one thing to score her so high in the trials, but to choose her over me for the dance? You cannot be serious.”