Gold Dragon (Heritage of Power #5)(8)
One guard sprinted after her, his hand dropping toward a truncheon at his belt. The other whirled on Trip, eyes bulging as he spotted his rifle in Trip’s hand.
“That’s a dragon,” Trip said, hoping that would explain everything.
“You took my rifle, you witch.” The guard snarled and leaped for him.
Azarwrath reacted before Trip did, raising an invisible barrier. The guard struck it chest-first and stumbled backward.
“I’m just protecting you,” Trip rushed to say.
Another “Wheee!” sounded farther down the corridor. Shulina Arya had found another corner to go around. The guard, boots pounding the marble tiles, could be heard running after her and ordering her to “cease and desist, right this instant.”
“If you were to shoot a dragon,” Trip added to the glowering guard still in front of him, who had also pulled a truncheon from his belt, “the bullet would ricochet off its—her—defenses, and might come back to hit you. Or one of the priceless vases on those stands all along the hall. I’m trying to help you.”
“Trip,” Rysha blurted, running into view. When she wore her uniform, as she did today, she usually looked professional and dignified, but right now, a frazzled expression stamped her face as she ran toward him. “She got away. Did you see—”
“Stop!” the distant guard yelled as Shulina Arya came back into sight, her scooter somehow zipping along at top speed even though she wasn’t using her foot to push off the floor.
She rounded the corner too quickly and brushed one of the stands holding one of the priceless vases Trip had referenced. It wobbled alarmingly before settling back to a stop.
Rysha reached Trip’s side, and Azarwrath lowered the barrier so she could step close and grip Trip’s arm. He wasn’t sure if it was to push him to safety or because she needed emotional support.
Shulina Arya rolled past them, looking like she was having far too much fun to stop caroming around the castle for a meeting.
The double doors opened silently behind Trip. He might not have noticed except he sensed a familiar presence.
Sardelle leaned her head into the hallway. “Is there a problem out here?”
The guard that had been chasing Shulina Arya since the beginning raced past, his face red, his arms pumping and his truncheon clenched in his white-knuckled fist.
“Uhm.” Trip groped for something more articulate to say, but he hadn’t started reading Duck’s vocabulary-laden classics yet, so fancy words eluded him.
Sardelle watched, her face impressively serene. Or maybe she was just good at masking her thoughts.
“Ma’am.” Rysha turned hopefully toward Sardelle. “Are Shulina Arya’s parents in there?”
Sardelle’s serene expression shifted into one bordering on bemusement. “They are.”
“Maybe they could convince her to—”
Shulina Arya rolled back into view again, this time returning from the king’s vast audience chamber. “Coming through, human friends!” she called.
Trip tugged Rysha out of the way as Sardelle pressed her back to one of the open doors to make way. The guard looked like he wanted to lunge forward and tackle Shulina Arya as she approached, but she wrinkled her nose, and he froze in tableau.
She zipped past Trip, the breeze ruffling his hair, then weaved around some large potted plants as she disappeared into the solarium.
Trip didn’t stretch his senses out toward the people inside—he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they thought of the intruder, nor did he want to witness it if a legion of the king’s bodyguards tried to tackle her—but he still felt the ripples of alarm and surprise.
“And to think,” Rysha said, her hand to her cheek as she looked through the open doors into the solarium, “meeting Shulina Arya’s parents was what I was nervous about today.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to bond with such a young dragon,” Trip observed mildly, still keeping an eye on the guards. They were both back in front of the door now, their glowers turning toward him. He offered them their rifles, hoping there wouldn’t be repercussions and also hoping they would forget he had used magic to confiscate them.
There’s nothing wrong with a young and perky individual, Jaxi spoke into Trip’s mind—into all of their minds, he imagined.
The soulblade was sheathed in her usual spot on Sardelle’s hip.
Good morning, Jaxi, Trip thought. I’ve missed your commentary.
He couldn’t say he’d missed listening in as Jaxi and Azarwrath argued, however, and was glad they were usually separated now. Sometimes, they made up for lost time when Trip reported to Sardelle’s house for his lessons. It was hard to concentrate on magic with arguing voices in his head.
Of course you’ve missed me. I’m not sure how you keep from falling asleep every time Azzy opens his mouth to drone on.
His… mouth?
His mental mouth. It certainly puts me to sleep. You must have excellent stamina.
Azarwrath issued a long-suffering sigh into Trip’s mind.
Trip looked at Rysha and smiled, thinking of suggesting that Jaxi could ask her about his stamina, but that seemed uncouth, so he refrained.
Please, I doubt she remembers what your stamina is like, Jaxi said, apparently reading his thoughts. He must still be, as she’d observed previously, leaving his bank vault door open when he thought of Rysha. You two haven’t rutted since that disgusting alley in Lagresh.