Page 117 of The Last Syphon

Prince Walder sighed. “This is not about choosing her over you, Larissa. For as long as I have been forced to undertake this ridiculous farce, I have always danced with whoever was assigned as my personal Shielder.”

“You’re a creature of habit,” Inara added.

“Yes,” he threw over his shoulder. “And that is what I will continue to do for as long as this heinous tradition is demanded of me. No doubt next year, it will be someone else.”

Inara nodded. “Yeah, that’s right.” She frowned. “Wait, what?” She folded her hands on her hips. “You think I’m only going to last the year? Way to have fucking faith.”

She was only playing at being offended. Truth be told, there was no way she was going to compete in the Shielder Trials next year. One term was more than enough in Overlord Walder’s presence.

“Do not act as if you care. I suspect you cannot wait to be free of your contract.”

“Yeah, but I’m allowed to think that. You’re not.”

“Why?”

“Because—”

“Stop!” Larissa thundered. “Stop this!” She swiped her hand aggressively through the air. “You talk as if you are friends with this Borderlander.”

Inara rolled her eyes. “You’re really going to have to come up with something better. That is not the insult you think it is.” Being a Borderlander meant she’d lived a hard life and was fucking tough as shit because of it. That was nothing to be ashamed of. Where she came from was nothing to be ashamed of.

Larissa bared her teeth. “How about whore?”

The fuck she just say?

Inara took a threatening step forward, but she was blocked by Prince Walder.

“That is enough, Larissa,” he warned darkly. “While the woman infuriates me to no end, she is a reflection of the Crowned Family, and you will not insult your reigning line.”

Her lips pressed into a tight line. A flare of magic hit the air. Inara was surprised at the level of power it held. Larissa might have been an uptight bitch, but the woman had some kick to her. She opened her mouth⁠—

“Brother!” Princess Phaedra barged past Larissa, almost knocking the other woman over as she rushed into the room. She encircled her brother in a tight hug. “There you are. I’ve been searching all over for you—oh. Fair Eve, Larissa. My apologies, I didn’t see you there.”

Larissa righted herself, running her fingers through her hair, even though there was not a strand out of place. “I find that hard to believe.” She huffed. “This dress makes it impossible for people not to see me. I guaranteed it.”

Princess Phaedra’s eyes flicked up and down her slender body. “Yes. Well…it’s a very…lovely dress.” She clicked her fingers. “You know what I like about it? It leaves little to the imagination. Anyway, brother, it’s time for your dance,” she said, turning and giving her back to Larissa. “You have many prospective partners lined up to dance with you. Shall I let them know you will be⁠—”

“Dancing with none of them? Yes,” he responded coldly. “I am only obligated to participate in one dance, and that will not be with a flock of women who are only interested in me because of my title. Come, Inara. Let’s get this over with.”

Spine straight, he marched out of his office without another word.

Inara rocked back on her heels, hands behind her back, whistling softly. “Well,” she said with a laugh, “who could say no to an offer like that?”

“Watch your step,” Prince Walder hissed.

“I am!” Inara hissed back.

“Then why do you keep stepping on my foot?!”

“Because I suck at dancing!”

The music was loud enough that no one else on the dance floor could hear them whisper-yell at each other, despite the fact that they were surrounded on all sides by other dancers.

It was as bad as Inara had thought it would be—worse, even. They’d arrived on the dance floor, and the moment the music began, all the lessons she had received from Princess Phaedra disappeared from her mind, as if they’d never been there to start with.

Inara was not only tripping over her own feet, but everyone else’s. She wouldn’t have cared as much if it wasn’t for the fact that Larissa was dancing only a few feet away. Her movements were perfect, of course. Fluid. Graceful. Never out of step.

The bitch.