Page 45 of Alien Prince's Fake Bride
The serving staff begins to circulate, presenting plates laden with food. My gaze falls on a particularly shiny platter of roasted meat being carried by a nervous-looking soldier.That looks heavy.
The platter wobbles precariously in the server’s hands, then, with a sudden lurch, it flies upwards. The roasted meat and vegetables scatter across a nearby table, much to the shock and amusement of the soldiers seated there. A collective gasp is followed by another wave of laughter, louder this time.
"The Syntrix is lively tonight," a grizzled sergeant booms, wiping gravy from his cheek.
Mareliux’s smile tightens. "Indeed." He places his hand gently over mine. "Are you all right?" he murmurs, his voice low.
"Fine," I lie, my heart hammering against my ribs. This is escalating far too quickly. I try to focus on Mareliux's touch. The solid warmth of his hand is a small anchor in the growing storm within me.Stop it. Just stop.
But my control is slipping. A particularly loud burst of laughter from a table of officers nearby snags my attention. One of them, an older officer with a shiny, extra ornate breastplate,is gesturing grandly, his cape billowing behind him even while sitting down.That cape looks ridiculous.
With a sharpsnap, the officer’s cape detaches from his shoulders, fluttering to the ground like a discarded rag. The laughter dies down abruptly, replaced by a stunned silence. The man blinks, his hand instinctively going to his now-bare shoulders.
A nervous titter breaks the silence, followed by a hesitant chuckle, but the atmosphere has shifted. The humor is starting to curdle into something strained. This is too much.
My panic intensifies. I can feel the energy thrumming within me, a restless force I can't contain. My gaze flickers to the officers seated at this main table. One of them is carrying his sword on his back, the handle sticking up over his shoulder.That sword… it’s in the wrong place.
With a screech of protesting metal, the sword shoots out of its scabbard, flies across the table, and embeds itself point-first into the floral centerpiece, sending fake petals spraying everywhere.
A collective gasp ripples through the tent, the laughter now completely gone. Faces that were jovial moments before are now etched with confusion and a dawning unease. The officer whose cape has vanished stares at the impaled flowers with wide eyes.
"What in the name of Dages…?" someone mutters.
Mareliux’s hand tightens on mine, his expression now a mask of concern. "Umbra," he says, his voice urgent, "what's happening?"
"I… I don't know!" I whisper back. I can feel the force building within me, stronger than before, responding to my subconsciousthoughts with terrifying immediacy. My gaze darts around the tent, my mind racing. A stack of plates on a nearby serving cart.Thats’s uneven.
The stack of plates topples over with a deafening crash, shattering into a hundred pieces. A wave of murmurs sweeps through the crowd, the earlier amusement replaced by palpable fear.
Soldiers are standing up, their eyes darting nervously around the tent, hands on sword. Caret’ax is placing himself right next to Mareliux and me, plainly not sure about what to do.
I desperately try to think of nothing at all, but it’s impossible. Anything I look at starts to shake. I glance at Sigise by my side, and her sword shoots out of her scabbard and spins through the air before it lodges itself in a supporting pole. All the cutlery beside my plate explodes outwards, forcing people to duck.
Mareliux catches a spoon in the air and gets to his feet, Syntrix ring glowing so much it looks like an LED light. “Let’s get out, my love. The Syntrix is too strong in here.”
He pulls me to my feet. “My friends, please continue the celebration while the princess and I sort this out.”
The initial humor has completely evaporated. The air in the tent crackles with an unseen energy, thick with confusion and a growing sense of danger. I can feel the power surging through me, a wild, untamed current responding to every stray thought, every flicker of my subconscious. I’m losing control, and the thousands of soldiers around us are now witnesses to something inexplicable and potentially dangerous.
He pulls me along with him, out of the tent. I stare at the ground, my gaze carving a track in the hard floor. My own ring glows, too, noticeable even in the bright sunlight outside the tent.
I take it off, and notice the Syntrix feeling abate. “That’s crazy.”
We stop between two red tents where soldiers live, Caret’ax a few feet away. Mareliux looks me up and down, checking for injuries. “We knew you were strong with the Syntrix, but this is almost too much.”
“Not almost,” I tell him, my voice shaky. “Absolutely too much.”
“She never had a chance to properly train her Syntrix control,”Bellatrix reminds us from her scabbard.“I think that should be a priority before we get to Khav. We wouldn’t want the next empress to be known for being wild like that. People will start talking about the Forbidden Arts. It’s difficult to get rid of a reputation for being a witch.”
“I think it’s the ring,” I tell them, holding it up. “I seem fine now that I took it off.”
“The rings contain no Syntrix,” Mareliux says, holding up his hand and looking at the ring on his finger. “They don’t give it off. They simply shine because there is a concentration of Syntrix nearby.”
“Your common, joined Syntrix,”Bellatriz says.“You’re both strong by yourselves, but you seem to be extremely strong when together. Especially after the wedding. It’s very uncommon for the Syntrix of two people to actually flow together and strengthen each other ever further. But it’s not unknown. There’s even a name for it, but I know you don’t want it mentioned. Anyway, tell me well before you two tryto un-join it again. I want to be on another planet when that happens.”
“What’s the name for that?” I ask, controlling my voice better. “Soulbound?” I take a guess about a term I just heard someone whisper in that tent.
“That’s the name,” Mareliux ponders, staring at the distant podium where we were wedded. “But it’s an old myth, surely. Nobody’s Soulbound these days. Certainly not with—” he stops.
