"And besides..."
She turned to Guilliman, her psychic eyes gleaming with eager anticipation:
"Rather than being a spectator, I'd rather try it myself. I want to see just how far a legendary Primarch can cut loose when he doesn't have to worry about smashing the flowers and grass.
So, Lord Guilliman, do you dare accept a sparring invitation from an Eldar 'girl'?"
She deliberately stressed the word "girl," her eyes full of provocation.
Guilliman threw back his head and laughed, his voice shaking the square. "Why wouldn't I?
As it happens, I also want to know just how sharp the blade of the Reaper Host's leader, who fought her way out of mountains of corpses and seas of blood, truly is.
Come, Lady Yvraine. Let's find ourselves a sturdy enough 'arena'!"
He said no more and extended a hand in invitation.
At the same time, an invisible force field gently enveloped Yvraine. It was both protection and a means of ensuring that he could carry her along at extreme speed.
Yvraine did not resist. Instead, she relaxed and felt that vast, steady power.
She turned back and gave the direction where Thousand Faces was hidden the slightest nod, sending a psychic message: No need to follow. Use your own judgment.
The next instant, azure and pearly-white light shot into the sky, tearing through the clouds and streaking toward the deep void beyond Macragge's orbit.
All that remained was the fading afterglow of energy, and, in the shadows of the square,
a silent guard who slowly rose to his feet, red armor glinting darkly beneath the sunlight, his expression beneath the mask impossible to discern.
This was Yvraine's first time experiencing interstellar flight in such an "intimate" manner.
There were no thick hull walls separating her from space, no low hum