Page 10 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Ten

T he next morning, a stack of several scrolls arrived from Halmar. The one from Helene contained nothing of true importance, but it was the one I read first. I was grinning almost the entire time as she described a particularly disastrous flying lesson she had overseen with some of the younger riders. I ached to see her.

The second scroll had cold dread bubbling up inside me. It was sealed with black wax.

Silvanus.

I had known this was coming, but my hands still shook slightly as I broke the wax and unrolled the parchment.

Only two lines in a familiar pointed script.

Bile churned in my stomach. My first thought was that I needed to warn Zara . . . but how? How could I possibly warn her without implicating myself? Others have been sent. I had to protect her and keep this from happening.

All this went through my mind as I woodenly moved to the bedside table and lit the candle there, burning the scroll. After that, I was barely conscious of the guards following me as I made my way out into the hall. My mind raced as I considered and discarded several options, and I still wasn’t sure what to do when I finally paid attention to my surroundings. I had wandered to a terrace at the back of the palace that looked out over the desert several stories below.

Deciding to clear my mind for a moment, I moved to the edge and leaned on my elbows, letting my hands hang over the stone rail. I could hear my mother’s censuring voice in my head as I did.

Stand up straight. Ladies don’t slouch.

I didn’t budge, enjoying the slight rebellion, as pathetic as it was. I closed my eyes and took in a breath of the warm desert air, trying to clear my mind.

When I finally opened them again, a flash of color caught my attention. My eyes were inexorably drawn to the two dragons flying in the blue sky a distance away. The sun glinted off their scales, creating gleaming fractals of light as they moved. I recognized the larger crimson dragon with midnight horns as Malik’s dragon, Azrun. Despite his immense size, the beast flew in an easy, graceful line, his scarlet wings outstretched, while the smaller sea-green female flew beside him. The female dragon was Priya’s. My heart clenched at the sight.

I wasn’t sure why it had. I had only had a few encounters with the man. And so what if he had lent me a book? That didn’t mean anything. Besides, he was insufferable with that cocky smirk and those too-knowing eyes. I thought of how he looked at me in the library and a shiver went through me. No man had ever looked at me like that, or if they had, I hadn’t noticed.

Get ahold of yourself, Leida! I thought. He was Zehvitian. Sensual looks and flirtatious smiles were practically in their blood. It didn’t mean anything to him. And here was the proof right before my eyes. He was spending time with the woman—the rider—he was actually interested in.

They had flown slightly closer, and now I could just make out Malik in the saddle. A moment later, I gasped when Malik freed his legs from the straps and stood up on Azrun’s back. Then I watched dumbstruck as he strode confidently out onto his dragon’s wing.

The thought of doing something like that made me queasy.

“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” a man’s voice said from behind me.

I turned to find Rajar Salim, Priya’s father, coming to stand beside me.

His gaze wasn’t on me though, but on Malik. “It’s called wing walking,” he explained.

I glanced back to watch Malik as well. Amazed at how the pressure of the air from below made the dragon’s wings appear as solid as stone underfoot as he walked. Or perhaps that was simply a testament to Malik’s skill that he could make it appear so easy.

My theory was confirmed by Salim’s next words. “Our prince is one of the few riders that can do it, along with one or two of his Fangdar.” The respect in his voice was clear as he spoke of his prince. “Most fear to even unstrap themselves from the saddle during flight, but not our prince.” He shrugged. “Of course, it is needlessly dangerous and he would likely never use it during battle, but Prince Malik has never been one to be deterred by a little risk.”

“Very impressive,” I admitted, not sure what to say to this man, having never spoken to him directly before. And honestly, I wasn’t sure why he was speaking to me now.

“Priya and he will do well together,” he suddenly said, and I turned to look at him. His eyes met mine. “He deserves to be with someone who can match him in all aspects of his life.”

I didn’t respond to his statement. Instead, I turned back to stare out at the two riders and their dragons, just in time to see Malik throw his head back in laughter at something Priya had said.

I turned a page in my book as I continued my stroll through this as yet unexplored portion of the palace gardens. My hair was up in a cornet braid, and the afternoon sun beat down on the back of my exposed neck. I ignored the discomfort in favor of enjoying the quiet around me.

My guards followed at a discrete distance. I had wanted to be alone after my conversation with Salim. I could have simply gone back to my room and dismissed my maids, but I craved being outdoors, and the gardens here were so beautiful that I had decided to read to distract myself.

Unfortunately, my mind kept drifting to thoughts of Malik and our encounter last night. Exactly where I didn’t want my thoughts to go. But no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking of the way he had stared at me, or the way his eyes flashed as he teased me . . . or when he confronted his brother. And of course, how I nearly lost my mind to fear and old memories, and Malik saw it all.

Realms! What was the matter with me? The last thing I needed to be thinking about was—

“Good morning, my lady.”

The warm voice came from behind me, and I spun to find the man himself standing before me. It was as if I had conjured him from my very thoughts. For that could be the only explanation as to why Prince Malik was standing in the middle of the garden path, dwarfing it with his massive physique. He wore sandstone riding leathers, the same ones all of his Fangdar wore. Part of his bronze chest and tattooed arms were exposed, and a long sai blade was strapped to one hip. His hair was tousled and a little damp as well, so maybe he had been flying or training? He looked utterly masculine and too tempting by half. Where had that thought come from? What was wrong with me?

“Malik!” I said in surprise and a little bit of alarm.

His disarming grin flashed in that playfully arrogant manner of his. “So we are back to Malik again? Good.”

“What are you doing here?” I demanded, ignoring his statement.

Those big shoulders shrugged. “Am I not allowed to take a stroll on my own grounds?”

The look on his face was teasing, and I couldn’t help wondering for a fleeting moment if he was here to see me.

Surely not. Mother’s voice was in my head, sneering. He’s a dragon rider and a king besides, why would he be interested in you?

I just raised a brow.

He stared at me for a moment and the teasing light left his eyes. “I wanted to see how you were doing after last night.”

My spine stiffened. “I’m fine.”

“Are you certain? You seemed . . . unsettled by what happened.”

I refused to discuss this with him. The last thing I needed was to explain my irrational —as my mother had called it—fear to him. I didn’t need him thinking I was more pathetic than he probably already did. “Thank you for your concern, Your Highness, but I assure you I am fine. Now, you’ll have to excuse me.” Without waiting for a response, I turned and began walking in the opposite direction.

I had barely gone a few paces before his large presence fell into step beside me. “My apologies, Princess. I did not mean to—”

“You didn’t,” I said crisply. “I just have somewhere else to be.”

To my annoyance, he didn’t leave, but instead leaned closer and asked, “I wonder . . . Are you off to hide away in the library?” He glanced down at the book in my hands. Then his eyes met mine and his voice lowered. “Or perhaps to go plan your next foray into the city?”

My steps halted. Realms! How did he—did he have someone following me? I thought back to that first night when I had thought I had felt someone watching me . . . I suppose it didn’t matter how he had found out. He knew. If it got back to my parents . . . I swallowed hard and tried not to let my anxiety at that possibility show as I played dumb.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smirked and stroked his beard. “Really? Because I’ve been told you’ve snuck out several times after you excuse yourself from the feasts. And that rider of your father’s doesn’t accompany you, nor do your guards.”

“Do you take issue with how I spend my time, Your Highness? Those of us who aren’t riders must amuse ourselves somehow. Am I committing some crime that I am unaware of?” My tone came out slightly sharper than I intended. There wasn’t actually anything threatening in his words or demeanor but . . .

He shook his head. “I was merely curious as to where you sneak off to. Against my will, I find myself intrigued.” Those honey-brown eyes considered me closely and I refused to look away from that probing stare.

“Against your will?” I snorted, then thought of how my mother would call it an inelegant sound. I turned and began walking again. He kept pace with me. “I’m afraid your curiosity will just have to remain unsatisfied, Your Highness.”

I pulled at the neckline of my gown as I spoke. Hilde had picked out this dress. It had a high buttoned collar, and I was feeling more than a little uncomfortable in the rising heat of the day.

“Very well,” Malik said with a shrug.

After that, we walked in silence. I thought he would try to fill it, but he didn’t. He simply prowled soundlessly next to me, taking in the sights around him as if he didn’t have a care in the world. I studied him out of the corner of my eye. Seeing him in his riding leathers . . . I knew this was the real him. That cultured veneer he had cultivated was gone, and in its place was the commanding dragon rider he was. This man before me shifted between roles as effortlessly as slipping on clothes.

I began to feel unnerved by his continued silence. Finally, I halted and turned to face him again. “Don’t you have better things to do than stalk me through the garden?”

He halted as well, and one dark eyebrow rose. “And what other things do you think I should be doing, exactly?”

I flung my arms out. “I don’t know. Kingly things?”

“Kingly things?” he repeated, his eyes sparkling with suppressed mirth.

I huffed in exasperation. “I simply mean that you must have many demands on your time.”

“I do,” he acknowledged, frustratingly nonchalant.

“Then why are you here? Don’t you have another celebration to plan or a meeting to attend? Aren’t you meant to be finding a bride?” That last just sort of fell unbidden from my mouth. My face flushed beet red. Why had I said that?

His eyes gleamed. “Believe me, siren, that is one of my highest priorities.”

I glared at him. “Be serious.”

He leaned closer, his big body overshadowing mine. I forced myself not to take a step back. I didn’t think he was trying to be intimidating. I was just that small and his presence was just that overwhelming. His gaze traveled over my face as he spoke. “I am serious.”

The weight of his stare only added to the oppressive heat, and I tugged at the neck of my gown again before looking away.

“Did you not bring anything more suitable for the weather?” His brow furrowed as he took in my discomfort and the glisten of sweat on my brow. “It is not practical to wear such clothing this time of year.”

“I assure you, I am fine.” I wanted to tell him that I didn’t exactly have a say in what styles were packed for me on this trip, impractical or not, but I held my tongue.

“You are not,” he stated emphatically, glaring down at me with frustration. “It is no trivial matter. If you are not careful, someone of your complexion could easily get heat sickness.”

“Heat sickness?” I had never heard of such a thing. I knew those of fairer skin could burn if they were out in the elements too long, but not to the point of illness.

He nodded. “Your body can overheat and become dangerously ill.”

“Well, I’m fine, so if you will just—” I gasped as he pulled me into the shade of a tall tree and reached for the top button of my high collar. “What are you—” I began.

“Just hold still,” he ordered. “I assure you, I have no designs on your virtue at present.”

I was so shocked at the unexpected intimacy and impropriety of the gesture that I was temporarily stunned into immobility. And what did he mean by at present?

I hardly moved, hardly dared breathe as his warm, deft fingers swiftly unbuttoned the first few buttons at my throat. He halted when he reached the hollow at the center of my collarbone, pulling the fabric wide. I swallowed hard as the back of one long finger skimmed the flesh there and lingered as our eyes met.

My cheeks flamed, and he dropped his hand.

“Better?” he asked and raised a challenging, dark brow.

It was. The relief was instantaneous, and it felt amazing to not have the itching, cloying fabric against my skin. But I wasn’t going to tell him that. Instead, I just made up some excuse and turned to walk away.

And this time, he didn’t follow me.