Page 80 of The Last Syphon
She was young—if Inara had to guess, possibly fourteen or fifteen—and she was nervous. She picked at her nails, mouth twisting in indecision. Whatever had brought her there was quickly being overtaken by her rising anxiety.
Inara did not blame her. The Crowned Prince was an intimidating figure. Even she could admit that.
“That is a nice sword.” All eyes turned to her. She ignored the furious glare coming from her right and focused on the girl’s wide, shocked green eyes. “You look like you know how to use it.”
Hova hesitated in answering at first, but eventually nodded, responding with a quiet, “Yes.”
“That’s good. Swords aren’t really my thing. I’m more of an axe girl.” With nothing but a thought, she conjured her shield axe into her palm.
The girl gasped. She stepped forward curiously. “How did you do that?”
“Magic,” Inara whispered eerily. She clenched her fist and her axe went poof. “Is that why you are here? To show your magic?”
It was just a guess. Inara had seen several parents bring their youthen to show the prince their power in the hopes they could be recruited into The Arelian Army. Of what she’d been able to ascertain so far, they must be over the age of thirteen, and the youthen must be there of their own accord. Enlisting in the Army was a huge decision, and had to be made willingly. The parent could not coerce or threaten the youthen into it.
“Yes.” Hova nodded. “I am a Shielder too.”
“Are you?!” Inara responded excitedly. “Show me.”
A bright, golden shield appeared around her, encasing her and her father entirely in a protective dome. It blinked out of existence not a moment later.
Inara clapped. “Amazing!”
The girl beamed, any trace of nervousness gone.
Rahphael stepped forward, placing a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, a proud, beaming smile on his face. “We have come to seek training.”
Prince Walder nodded. “You shall have it.” He waved a soldier over. “This is Sentinel Orion, a member of the Elite Guard. He will accompany you both to the training tower and show you to your new living quarters."
Sentinel Orion was a tall man—early fifties, if Inara had to guess—with a full bushy beard and dark hair. He walked with fluid and grace, one hand staying on his sword.
“Thank you.” Rhaphael bowed at the waist. “Thank you so much, my Prince. Say thank you, Hova.”
The girl looked at Prince Walder and suddenly grew shy once more. “Thank you,” she said meekly.
He inclined his head.
As Sentinel Orion led them away, Hova waved shyly at Inara. She smiled and waved back.
The next person in line took Rhaphael’s place. A short, curly-haired woman who had a complaint that a competitor of hers at the monthly markets in the city stole her formula for some sort of perfume she had invented. Another had a grievance with the job detail she’d been assigned in her district, claiming the proprietor of the region was unfairly punishing her for refusing to bed him.
The assembly hall had dropped to an almost unbearable temperature at that revelation, anger rolling over Prince Walder like an icy wave. He vowed the matter would be dealt with swiftly and effectively.
Then there was another. Then another. Then another.
Inara’s boredom returned quickly, and with a sigh, she rested both elbows on her bent knees, cradled her face in her hands, and zoned out.
They broke for lunch around midday. Prince Walder had an office space adjacent to the assembly hall so he could eat privately. The remaining citizens still waiting to be seen had two options: they could continue to wait in line so they did not lose their spot, or they could go and return in an hour.
Most chose to stay.
Inara glanced around the room. Dark. Gloomy. Cold.
It was about what she had expected from the prince.
A dark mahogany desk sat in the middle, with a red throne chair behind it. Upon the desk lay a mountain of scrolls he was currently sifting through. A plate of food sat in front of him—an assortment of meat, potatoes, and vegetables.
Inara sat off to the side in her own seat. It was very comfortable, and yet, she had never felt so uncomfortable.
