Page 97 of The Last Syphon

Fraener propelled forward at unimaginable speed. The excitement of the hunt thrummed down the soul-link, pounding like a relentless war drum. Fraener’s wings pumped hard against the rush of the wind, building momentum, and then suddenly, he tucked them deep into his sides, and they disappeared, reappearing over a hundred feet away in the blink of an eye.

Inara’s stomach twisted and dived. Vaulted and spun. She barely had the time to take a breath before it happened again.

And again.

And again.

The two of them blinked across the night sky, there one moment and gone the next, racing forward and clearing fast distances far more quickly than imaginable.

After the fourth or fifth round—Inara honestly wasn’t sure which—she screamed stop in her mind.

Fraener listened instantly, ceasing the insane movement to hover in place.

Dizziness washed over her. Inara’s stomach churned, her skin going deathly pale.

Oh, no.

Bile rose in her throat, and she was utterly powerless to stop it. She threw up over the side of Fraener. Vomit rained down in the sky…

And landed right on Prince Walder’s head.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

“Isaid I’m sorry.”

“Do not speak to me.”

Inara sighed, picking at the grass in front of her. She sat crossed-legged before the lake, her back to the water as Prince Walder washed himself of the contents of her stomach. Fraener and Tydus sat off in the distance in their true forms, the outlines of their mountainous bodies all she could make out amongst the darkness surrounding them.

She felt a little bad about what had happened. Not embarrassed, because who the fuck wouldn’t throw up after what she’d just endured, jumping from place to place like that with absolutely no warning? It was a very valid reaction on her part if you asked her.

The Crowned Prince, however, did not feel the same.

Inara could not really blame him. She’d be pretty peeved, too, if she had vomit in her hair.

She blew out a breath, flicking the small pieces of grass away and bracing her elbows on her crossed legs. The splash of water echoed behind her, and she couldn’t help but curiously glance over her shoulder.

Prince Walder was waist-deep in the luminescent water, his bare back to her, droplets trickling down his wet hair and onto his skin. That impressive red-scaled armour of his lay amongst the gravel only a few paces away from the waterline, along with the assortment of weaponry he always carried on his person.

A thought entered Inara’s mind, this one entirely of her own volition. It was a feeling she often got when she was around something of value. The compulsion to take whatever it was.

Inara ignored it, of course, because as much as she was dying to find out how much she could barter for such fine steel, stealing from the Crowned Prince of Arelia was just asking for trouble.

“You can’t stay mad forever.”

“Oh, yes, I certainly can.” His thick arms sliced back and forth, throwing water on himself before he dipped low, dunking his entire head under. He disappeared for only a moment before resurfacing, this time facing her. His violet eyes seemed to glow in the darkness.

“I said I was sorry,” Inara repeated for what she was sure was the dozenth time.

“And your apologies mean nothing while your vomit is still firmly entangled in my hair.” The prince lowered again, scrubbing over his scalp viciously while under the water before rising once more. He scrubbed a hand down his face and flicked the hair out of his eyes. “Turn,” he barked.

Inara arched an eyebrow but did as he asked. “Never met a man so modest.”

“My body is not for you to ogle.”

“Bold of you to assume it would be something I would be interested in ogling.”

She heard the moment he emerged from the lake. Gravel crunched beneath his bare feet. He appeared in her peripheral vision, tall and towering. She didn’t look, even though there was a minuscule part of her that was curious about what lay beneath that impenetrable armour of his.