Page 31 of The Last Syphon

When people started closing in again, Fraener’s discomfort spiked once more.

She put her hands up. “Don’t come any closer. You’re making him uncomfortable.” In case her words didn’t hold enough warning, Fraener snapped his teeth, biting the air.

No one came any closer.

Except the Crowned Prince.

He continued on his path without a hint of fear, not a single slight in his step. He marched forward, one hand sitting comfortably on the sword at his side, his footsteps sure and even. There was no hesitance as he walked underneath Fraener’s tall, towering, muscular neck. No worry that the Guardian might lash out and attack him. Just pure confidence. An aura of strength that matched his dragon.

Tydus watched his Chosen approach them with calculating, suspicious, bright orange eyes, its gaze never wandering. The same went for the female companion. His Shielder. Inara was 100 percent sure that was who she was now. The way she tracked him…the way her hands hovered in the air, slightly away from her body, as if in preparation to call a shield into place to protect him…she had to be his bodyguard.

A part of Inara was tempted to do something to test her, but she tried to ignore that part of herself.

It was always getting her into trouble.

“Can we just get this over with?” she asked, shifting her entire focus back to the Crowned Prince. “I’d like to get out of here as soon as possible. I’ve got things to do.”

“More people to steal from?”

Oh, he’s quick.

“I told you already. I didn’t steal him.”

“Yes.” He looked her up and down with those stupid judgemental eyes. “So you have said.”

He didn’t believe her.

Inara couldn’t wait to shove her soul-link right in his stupid fucking face.

He turned to one of the soldiers standing out of Fraener’s reach as if in fear of getting too close. “Summon Magdala.”

The soldier nodded. “Yes, my Prince.” Then he was gone, disappearing in a blink.

Inara and Felix gasped at the same time.

Holy Fates. A fucking Transporter.

Inara had heard of people with the ability, capable of transporting themselves or others over vast, great distances, but she’d never actually met anyone who could do it.

It was a hell of a fucking power.

The man reappeared a moment later, holding the arm of an old woman. She had thick, white-grey hair wound up on the top of her head. Her robes were similar to those of Venerable Cias’s, except hers were red. Her face was wrinkled. If Inara had to guess, she was in her late sixties, early seventies. And she did not look happy to be transported randomly into the middle of a field.

She ripped her arm out of the soldier’s grasp. “What is the meaning of this? I was just settling down for my eve nap.”

The soldier who transported her frowned. “You were dancing naked around a fire when I arrived.”

“That was my before-rest ritual,” she spat defensively. Her hand flapped through the air. “Shoo. Out of my way.” She gathered up her robes and marched towards the dark, brooding warrior across from Inara. “Good Eve, my Prince. You so subtly beckoned?”

The Crowned Prince inclined his head in greeting. “Yes, Magdala. I need you to conduct a bond-check.”

“On whom? The golden aura beside you?”

Is she talking about me? Inara frowned. “The what?”

“Your aura.” The old woman pointed around her. “It’s bright. Beaming. Almost blinding, like the creature behind you. You are its Chosen, I assume?”

Inara turned a smug smile at the Crowned Prince. “Yes. I am.” She figured a big, fat, I told you so might be too much, no matter how badly she wanted to utter the words.