Page 1 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter One

“ D o you really want her to represent our kingdom to those barbarians? She isn’t a dragon rider. She has hardly any experience with politics and the girl is practically a mute.”

I halted just outside my father’s study when my mother’s familiar voice carried through the door. Her hissed words stopped me cold. I knew instantly she was speaking about me.

Unlike my father and sister, I wasn’t a dragon rider. My mother wasn’t one herself, but that didn’t stop her from despising me for it. In fact, she seemed to take it as a personal affront when I was presented year after year at the Nest and each time failed to bond with a dragon. She and my father had beamed with pride when Helene, my twin sister, bonded her dragon, but then stared on stone-faced when I hadn’t done the same.

Of course, my mother’s contempt might also be because I was the opposite of everything she thought a princess should be. I preferred my own company to large crowds and would rather sit curled by the fire with a good book than attend any kind of gathering. Not that I wasn’t social or didn’t enjoy the company of others, but apart from Helene, people tended to ignore me. The court, and sometimes the entire kingdom of Halmar itself, seemed to have little use for me. I was the second born. The spare. The Forgotten Princess some had labeled me.

I hated that nickname.

They acted as though I had committed some cardinal sin by not becoming a rider. As if it wasn’t extremely rare to bond with a dragon in the first place—especially recently.

For the past several years across Palasia, fewer and fewer dragons were answering The Call and claiming their riders. And no one knew why. This past year, Nevgard had only seen one new rider bond, while several other cities had had none. Across all of Halmar there had only been five new riders in total, the lowest number in a century.

Thoughts of Helene had me considering the other and perhaps more likely reason my mother despised me so . . . namely that she had never forgiven me for the night I had nearly gotten Helene killed. The scars on my back twinged as if in reminder, and I forced my attention back to the present.

Barbarians, my mother had said. Who was she talking about? My mother thought anyone who wasn’t from Halmar, or who differed in any way from our staunch traditions was uncivilized , so that didn’t really narrow down the list of possibilities much.

“Leida can handle herself,” my father contradicted my mother, confirming they were indeed discussing me. “And it’s not as if she will be negotiating our trade agreements with them.”

Frankly, my father displaying any confidence in me was surprising. After it became abundantly clear that I would never become a rider, my father had little use for me. We hardly saw each other, save for at mealtimes, and even then, he rarely spoke to me. He didn’t know me at all.

“Calder, you can’t be serious,” she protested. “Surely Helene would be a better choice.”

“I need Helene here. She is my heir.”

I wished I could simply walk away, but I knew I couldn’t. My father had summoned me, and I had to appear.

“Come in, Leida!” my father suddenly called. “Tarook can hear you breathing out there.”

Internally, I sighed. I should have known that my father’s dragon could sense me out here. Dragons had incredibly heightened senses. They were the most powerful magical creatures in our world. They lent their speed, strength, and healing abilities to their riders through the bond they shared. And it was through that bond that Tarook had no doubt alerted my father to my presence.

I took a steadying breath, bracing myself for the coming interaction. Ignoring the two stoic-faced guards stationed on either side of the door, I pushed it open, walking inside.

The room was stark and austere, with nothing adorning the stone walls save for some ancient weaponry and an even more ancient tapestry depicting a sea battle before the time of riders. A single large window cast early morning light about the room through which could be seen the capital port city of Nevgard below. I could just make out the ocean beyond and the many ships dotting the gray expanse. The window was partially open, and a wave of fresh sea air hit my nose as I closed the door behind me.

My father sat behind his large desk clad in his dark gray riding leathers. King Calder Ivar was a large man with a barrel chest and massive arms. His head was shaved except for a thick braid down the center which was tied at the back and twined with beaded talismans proclaiming his dedication to The Warrior. His tawny-brown beard was thick and wiry and partially braided as well, with a few touches of gray hinting at the first signs of age.

His silvery-gray dragon, Tarook, sat behind him on a thick metal bar, his eyes watching me as I entered. His minor form—comparable to that of a large dog—was bigger than most dragons, partly because he was male, but also because he was a much larger dragon in his natural form.

My mother, Queen Petra Ivar, stood beside my father’s desk. She wore a deep blue gown trimmed in silver fur that perfectly offset her auburn hair, so like my own, that was braided back from her face in the elaborate way she preferred. A silver belted chain hung low at her waist and from it dangled pearl-encrusted charms depicting a cluster of flowers, her talismans to The Maiden. Her beautiful face was a pinched stone mask as she regarded me.

“Father.” I dipped my head slightly to him then turned. “Mother.”

My mother didn’t acknowledge my greeting. “What took you so long?” she demanded. “When your father summons you, you are to respond immediately.”

Reaching into the pocket of my gown, I clutched the familiar smooth lines of my own talisman and stared back at her, refusing to show any emotion. “I was out walking in the gardens.” More like staring out over my favorite spot on the cliffs on the far side of the castle, but they didn’t need to know that. I would only be reprimanded for it. “My apologies for the delay.”

My father waved off my excuse. “It is unimportant. I have called you here for a reason, Leida. I have an opportunity for you.” He shot the queen a warning look.

“Opportunity?” I asked.

“King Nazeem has finally died. As you probably know, he had been sick for some time. My spies tell me his heart finally gave out. His funeral events are to be held in Taveran in two weeks’ time. You will attend as a representative of Halmar. You will also stay for the subsequent coronation.”

My eyes widened at the unexpected pronouncement. My father had never asked me to represent Halmar in any capacity before—let alone in another kingdom. It was usually Helene who did such things. She would be our ruler someday and was much better suited for official duties than I. “How long will I be—"

“Five weeks,” my father interrupted. “Not including the time it will take you to travel. So closer to two months.”

My eyebrows rose. “Two months?”

He rubbed a hand over his beard. “Apparently, Zehvitian death rites involve several days of celebrations leading up to the funeral, but for a monarch, the festivities last nearly an entire month. They have delayed the start of the celebrations to allow time for those traveling to the capital. As it is, you should have just enough time to get there before they begin.”

“Celebrations?” I asked, again in confusion. At a funeral? I had been tutored in the history of our world, of course, but when it came to the customs of Zehvi, my training had been more focused on social and court protocol and the like. I had read several Zehvitian books, but admittedly those had been more the fairytales and romantic adventures. I loved immersing myself in the lush stories of the far away land and had gobbled up everything the castle library had on the subject—which hadn’t been much—before the age of twelve. So unfortunately, I knew little of their death rites. I would have to rectify that.

“The heathens believe in celebrating the life of the deceased rather than mourning their death,” my mother scoffed. “Supposedly, they even burn their dead and release them to the elements rather than bury them by land or sea. Backward wasteland rats,” she muttered.

I wanted to point out that some of our practices would most likely appear barbaric to them as well, but I knew better than to voice that thought.

“You leave tomorrow,” my father instructed, as if my mother hadn’t spoken. “Your maid has already been informed. I have assigned Leif to accompany you as well. I want at least one dragon rider in your party along with the contingent of guards.”

I fought not to show my pleasure and relief at his words. Leif and I had been friends since childhood. His father was a rider and one of my father’s closest advisors. There weren’t many children who lived in the castle, so when we were young, he had been pulled into Helene’s schemes and games right along with me. Then they had both bonded their dragons the same year, and though their rider training kept them busy, our trio had always tried to make time with each other over the years. I hadn’t seen much of him recently though since he and his dragon had been assigned to one of our southernmost cities. The thought of having him with me in Zehvi was reassuring.

“Ambassador Nilfren will be there as well, of course,” my father added, and I refocused on what he was saying. “He just returned from Zehvi not long ago and will escort you to Taveran.”

My heart sank at the mention of Ambassador Nilfren. He was one of the most self-righteous, power-hungry men I had ever known. I made a point of having as little to do with the nobleman as possible. I had been relieved when he had been made our ambassador to Zehvi several years ago and subsequently spent most of his time there rather than in Halmar.

“He will help you navigate the Zehvitian court, such as it is,” my father continued. “He is aware you know little of their customs. And you need to make a good impression on Prince—or rather, King Malik, as I suppose he will be soon.”

My heart leapt at the mention of the Crown Prince, but I immediately tried to temper my reaction. I had met Malik Kathar only once several years before when he came to our court. I had been eighteen at the time. I never spoke to him beyond necessary greetings and such, but my impression of the prince was that he was intolerably arrogant, though admittedly charismatic and charming. He was also devastatingly attractive. And he knew it. Even though I was now in my twenty-fifth year, no doubt he still considered me as some na?ve girl, if he thought of me at all. Not that I would have anything to prove to him when we met again, I told myself, even if he was soon to be king of the largest and richest kingdom in Palasia.

Of course, I said none of this to my parents. Instead, I replied, “Of course, Father. I will do my best.”

“You will do much better than your best,” my mother corrected coldly. “We can’t afford to have you be your normal wilting, petulant self. For once in your life, you will be useful and represent Halmar with some dignity.”

I had long since stopped looking to my mother for any kind of affection, prepared after all these years for the cool indifference. But I would be lying if I said the near disgust in her expression as she regarded me didn’t still sting.

“If you are so concerned with how I will conduct myself, why send me at all?” I asked, echoing what she had said earlier. “Why not Helene—"

“My reasoning does not concern you,” my father replied, giving me a sharp look.

I bit back my retort that this very much concerned me. My father hated it when I contradicted him, and my mother would likely scold me and tell me it was unladylike and that I didn’t get to have an opinion. So instead, I kept my face blank and locked my feelings down behind the familiar wall inside me. A wall that had become so thick and reinforced over the years that I wondered if it could ever be breached.

“Yes, Father.” I bowed my head, sensing Tarook’s disapproving stare on me. Dragons were incredibly intelligent, and while wild dragons couldn’t understand language as such, bonded dragons could through the bond they shared with their rider.

I did not have to be a dragon rider to know that Tarook was sharing in my father’s irritation.

“Petra, leave us,” my father suddenly ordered.

The pinched look on her face told me that my mother didn’t appreciate being dismissed in such a way, especially when this was a matter she felt should concern her, but she said nothing at his abrupt words. Instead, she turned her glare on me again as if this was my doing before she swept from the room.

When the door shut behind her, my father contemplated me for a moment in silence. Tarook regarded me as well from his perch behind the king. I had always been amazed at how still dragons could be when they wanted. His wings didn’t rustle, he didn’t shift his clawed feet, and I swore his eyes didn’t even blink. It was unnerving and no doubt intentional.

“There is something else,” my father said when he finally spoke. “Something I want you to do aside from attending the funeral rites and coronation.”

What could he possibly wish of me that my mother could not be privy to?

He continued staring at me for a long moment, before he finally clarified, “While you are in Zehvi, you are to get as close to Prince Malik as you can. In whatever way you can.”

“Get close to him?” He gave me a pointed look and I flushed.

“You aren’t a fool, Leida, and you are pretty enough. Be as charming as you are able. Put yourself in his path and get him to desire you.”

“To what purpose?” I finally inquired, trying to keep my tone level and not full of the sudden nerves that had assailed me as I considered what his possible motivations could be. Though I could guess. A marriage alliance was the only use my father would ever have for me.

“That is none of your concern, either,” he said again, and Tarook huffed behind him. “You will do as you are told and that is the end of it.” He gestured towards the door. “Now go. May The Warrior walk with you and The Maiden keep you safe on your travels.”

The last were the standard Halmarish words of parting. They sounded rote coming from his lips and not at all filled with the usual warmth that accompanied the farewell. I hesitated only a moment, my thoughts and feelings a jumbled mess, before I turned to go.

“Leida?” His voice stopped me just as I rested my hand on the door handle. I turned back to him, valiantly ignoring the dragon glaring at me from over his shoulder. “Do not fail me in this.”

Gripping my talisman tightly in my pocket once more, I simply nodded. Then I opened the door and fled.