Page 129 of The Last Syphon

He was amazing.

She stopped in front of the stall and looked at the weapons on display. The weapon vendors were a husband and wife. Worn beige tunics draped over their sun-kissed skin.

“Hello, hello. Welcome, welcome. Finest weaponry in all of Arelia, you’ll find here. Yes, sir. What are you looking for? I have a dagger forged with the strongest silver on the market right here. Or maybe a bow and arrow is more your fancy? I got that, too. I got everything. Tell me what you’re after, and I got it. Swear it to the Fates.” The man spoke quickly—a little too quickly, based on Prince Walder’s frown of confusion. But Inara understood every word. She was used to the fast-paced conversations that took place in a market. The vendors had to talk quickly to snag people’s attention and keep them in front of them, or they were liable to lose interest and wander off.

“How much for the scythe?” she asked, inclining her head to the weapon dangling above them.

The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah. Good choice, good choice. Very good choice.” He pulled the weapon down and handed it to her to hold.

She tested the balance. Nice.

“What in the realm would you do with a scythe?” Prince Walder asked, expression dubious.

“It would look great hanging on the wall in my room. I’ve always wanted a weapon wall.”

“A weapon wall, you say?” the man cut in. “Well, this would make a fine addition to your collection, yes, sir.”

“What the fuck is a weapon wall?”

Inara’s gaze whipped to him. “Did you just curse?” She blinked, standing straighter. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you curse before.”

“I curse all the time. When the situation warrants it. Like now. What is a weapon wall?”

“Exactly what it sounds like, my Overlord. A wall with weapons on it.” He glared at her. She turned her attention back to the vendor. “How much?”

“Ten silver coins.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You must be joking.”

“I never joke about coin. Ten.”

“Five,” she countered.

“Nine.”

“Seven, and you throw in that meat pie behind you for free.”

The man looked at his wife. She nodded.

“Sold!” He bowed at the waist. “We appreciate your business.”

“Yes!” She turned to Prince Walder at her side, palm out.

His brow arched high as he eyed her hand. “I never agreed to give you coin.”

“Not give. Front. Meaning I’ll pay you back.”

A sharp intake of breath was quickly followed by a trembling voice. “Branko.” It belonged to the woman vendor. “Give it to them for free.”

“Free, Prinx?!” he questioned. “Why⁠—”

“That is the Crowned Prince!” she hissed.

His face turned deathly pale. He dropped to the floor behind the table, bowing profusely. “I am so sorry, my Prince. So sorry. Please, forgive me. Of course you can take whatever you like with no payment. Please, have mercy. I did not know. I’m sorry.” Branko continued to apologise over and over and over again, causing Inara to cast a side-eye glance at the man beside her.

“What in the realm did you do to these people?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled. “I have a…reputation.”