Page 24 of The Last Syphon

Now that he was no longer sitting on his dragon, Inara glimpsed another person who was sitting behind his place. The woman was beautiful, with platinum-yellow hair and a soft, heart-shaped face. She was dressed in the same red-scaled armour, but she had what looked like a cape pinned to her shoulders, the material flowing in the wind.

She looked at Inara with disdain, as if she were nothing more than a bug trapped beneath her expensive black boots.

Inara didn’t like it.

The Crowned Prince narrowed his eyes. His arms lowered back to his sides, and he remained in the air with nothing but his mind keeping him there. That level of power and concentration was insane. It didn’t even look like it was affecting him in any way. He didn’t show any of the telltale signs of someone overusing their magic. No shaking. No pain. No blood seeping from his nose or ears. How much power does this guy have?

“You are rude, and my patience has reached its end. Dismount immediately and surrender yourself to me.”

He is out of patience already? That had to be some kind of record for Inara.

She looked at the imposing army, fear not only for herself, but for the people of Deadhaven coursing through her. This was all her fault. She couldn’t let them die because of her stupid mistake.

The thought to do as he commanded left her mind as soon as it entered, thanks to a pulse of anger from Fraener. It was coated in fury, annoyance, and displeasure. She realised then that even if she wanted to, Fraener would never allow them to part ways.

She was his, and he was hers.

Inara straightened her spine and allowed Fraener’s strength to fill her. Take her over. She stared the Crowned Prince down, letting her silence be all the answer he needed.

A hard look settled over his face. One filled with darkness. Devoid of mercy. It was cold, calculating, and utterly terrifying.

“So be it.” His arms rose at his sides. Inara’s stomach dropped as every single sword being carried by the Arelian Army floated into the air. There were thousands of them, completely at the Crowned Prince’s disposal. The swords shifted, turning slowly until the tips of the blades were all pointing directly at her.

There was no hesitation. No “this is your final warning” or “are you sure you don’t want to change your mind?” With a simple flick of his wrist, he sent them all hurtling forward with the intention to skewer her alive.

Magic erupted from Inara’s soul, burning hot and teeming with power. A golden shield exploded out of the centre of her chest, casting a perfect dome over Deadhaven. The swords smashed against her shield with a deafening boom. Pressure squeezed her brain so tightly that she could feel the blood in her veins begin to boil. But she held on, keeping her shield up until the last of the swords fell to the ground.

Silence reigned, and Inara had the immense satisfaction of watching as the Crowned Prince frowned in confusion. The woman on the back of Tydus dropped her mouth wide open.

The Prince’s violet eyes ran over the villagers at Fraener’s feet, assessing. “Who amongst you possesses the ability to shield?”

No one said anything. Then again, they did not have to. The not-so-subtle glances everyone threw Inara’s way made it all the more obvious.

The Crowned Prince’s gaze whipped back up to her. “You.” He sneered.

Inara smiled, flashing her teeth. “Me.”

“All Shielders are to report to the palace for evaluation upon manifestation.”

“Maybe in Arelia, but you’re not there, you pompous prick. You’re in the Borderlands. There’s a different set of laws here.” Meaning no laws at all.

“All inhabitants of the realm, regardless of where they reside, are subject to Arelian, Pregonan, or Roylan law. And you shall refer to me with the respect my title demands.” He was still hovering in the damn air, with no indication the task was at all strenuous for him.

Curiosity got the better of her. Inara tapped into her syphon sight to gauge his power. Thousands of spectral energies appeared before her, some so dim they barely registered, while others shone a vibrant yellow.

The Crowned Prince’s, though? His was so bright that it almost hurt to look at it. Golden. Blinding, like the sun. Like the dragons around them. His power was on par with theirs.

So much power…She couldn’t help but wonder if he was even aware of it all. Aware of how much magic he had running through those royal veins of his.

“But those transgressions pale in comparison to the crime you have committed that is responsible for my presence in this…place,” the Prince continued, face full of derision as he looked out at the Borderlands.

Inara was fairly sure she knew what he was referring to. She couldn’t help but ask, though. “And…what crime would that be?”

“Stealing from the Crowned Family. An offence punishable by death.”

“I didn’t steal him.”

“Do not attempt to deny that which I can see with my own eyes,” he whispered harshly. Anger burst out of him in the form of a strong concussive wave. It slammed into her shield, and Inara gritted her teeth as a bout of pain hit her head-on.