Page 13 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)
Chapter Thirteen
M y attention was fixed to the mirror before me as I watched Astrid twist my braided hair up into a delicate chignon at the back of my head. My new maid, I had come to learn, was incredibly gifted with hairstyling. She made it look effortless, making my braids and updos look more feminine and flattering than Hilde had ever managed.
“Priya is the favorite,” Astrid was saying, as she pulled a few wisps free to frame my face. She had befriended several of the other ladies’ maids and had been repeating all the court gossip she had overheard. She was currently on to one of her favorite topics: whom she believed Prince Malik would choose as his bride. Apparently, it was tradition in Zehvi for a new unmarried monarch to announce whom they intended to wed at their coronation ceremony. A coronation ceremony that would happen a week after the previous king was laid to rest. “But she is by no means the only one vying for the prince’s hand,” Astrid explained. “Every single territory will have a daughter or niece or cousin from their ruling families in the race, hoping to catch his eye. But Tika, one of the other maids, told me that she doesn’t think her prince will be interested in such women.”
“Why ever not?” Hilde asked in confusion as she laid out my midnight blue gown for tonight on the bed. Hilde had been acting as if she could not care less about what Astrid was saying this entire time, although I had noticed she was listening rather intently. It surprised me that she would even deign to ask and admit her interest.
Astrid’s face grew more animated, and she changed her voice to imitate the other woman as she replied, “‘Because our prince is like his dragon. There is fire in his soul. And dragons like a challenge.’ She doesn’t believe he will be interested in such easy prey. He can have his pick of women in the kingdom, and he knows it. The woman he chooses to declare his Hassai will have to be a very special woman indeed.” Her gaze met mine in the mirror and she shrugged. “Perhaps this lady will not even be aware she has caught his attention.”
“Perhaps she is aware of his attention, but simply does not want it?” I countered.
Astrid giggled as she fixed a stray curl. “That seems unlikely. What woman would not want the attentions of a future king?” She sighed rather dreamily, and I couldn’t help but be reminded how young she still was. “Especially one who looks like Prince Malik.” Astrid blushed profusely at her own daring and then ducked her head at Hilde’s glaring disapproval.
“Who, indeed?” I said, patting my hair as I rose to my feet, trying to put Astrid at ease.
Who indeed?
At the banquet that night, I was seated next to the Baldorian delegation and somehow found myself deep in conversation with Councilor Zadeth, one of the three heads of their Dragon Rider Council. She was shrewd and possessed a quick wit, and I found I liked the older woman immensely. I was disappointed to learn she was leaving Zehvi after the king’s funeral and that another member of the council was coming to replace her for the coronation.
During a lull in the conversation, the councilor turned to ask Leif a question. He sat across from us and had barely spoken all night. This wasn't unusual, but things had been strained between us since our conversation about Malik. But I wasn’t going to apologize for what I had said, and I wasn’t changing my mind.
Malik. The name was like a tantalizing summer breeze in my mind.
I told myself I wouldn’t, but for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, I let my eyes wander over to the table where Malik held court with his stepmother, Zara, Priya, and several members of his Fangdar. Amir, and Priya’s father, Salim, had slipped out some time ago, but Priya, of course, was right by Malik’s side, laughing prettily at everything he said. She kept leaning into him and placing her hand on his arm as she spoke. I couldn’t help thinking of the conversation I had had earlier with my maids. The two of them were a striking pair. My chest suddenly grew tight at the thought. I knew I had no right to be upset. Malik wasn’t mine and never could be.
My thoughts drifted to the other night standing outside my door. You have a flame . . . a spirit inside you . . .
Just then, Malik’s dark eyes flicked to me and caught me staring. My heart leapt in my chest and I quickly looked away.
“Will you be taking part in the Unari celebrations, Your Highness?”
Councilor Zadeth’s words jolted me back to the conversation at hand. “I’m sorry?” I said sheepishly.
The old rider smiled. “Unari. The Zehvitian holiday,” she elaborated. “Two days from now. Do you plan to attend the celebrations?”
“Oh, I hadn’t decided,” I admitted, though I actually had. Once Nilfren had explained to me that the celebration was also known as The Night of Burning and apparently involved bonfires being lit throughout the entire city. After hearing that, I had no intention of attending the festivities. I would be avoiding it at all costs. My current plan was to beg off with a headache and curl up with a good book. In my experience, few celebrations or outings could compare with a good book, a warm drink, and a soft blanket.
“Of course she’ll be there,” Nilfren said, inserting himself in the conversation where he definitely wasn’t wanted. “You won’t want to miss something like that, Princess.”
My only answer was a tight half smile. “I’ll consider it.”
Anxious about all the eyes of the table suddenly on me and irritated about having to watch Malik with other women all night, I made my excuses and stood. I carefully made my way around the edge of the hall, avoiding any of the performers—currently, it was a pair of bards playing stringed instruments and singing a bawdy tune. When I finally reached the exit, I stepped out into the wide corridor and felt like I could breathe again.
Luckily no one was about, and I was able to find an alcove and lean back against a stone pillar and close my eyes, trying to settle myself. If I was being honest, I knew what was truly bothering me . . . and had been all day. Tomorrow was the anniversary. It made me sick to my stomach and no matter how much I tried not to think about it—
“Are you all right, Princess?”
The deep melodic voice had my eyes snapping open—to meet Malik’s concerned stare.
“Fine. I should think you were too busy with all your guests tonight to even notice.” I fought hard to keep the irritation out of my voice, but didn’t think I succeeded.
His eyebrow lifted. “You’re angry with me?”
I scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. Why should I care what you do?”
Something sparked in his eyes as he studied me. “But you do care, don’t you, siren?”
He stepped closer and—a loud crash from down the corridor broke the spell, drawing our attention.
I was stunned and confused to find Astrid obviously struggling to stay upright after having knocked over a decorative platter of some kind. The girl’s braided hair was disheveled and her normally neat attire was ripped and sagging at the shoulder. Rajar Salim, of all people, stood beside her looking annoyed.
“Astrid?” I said, stepping free of the alcove and striding swiftly towards her. Malik followed.
As we drew near, I heard Astrid apologizing profusely as she bent—or rather fell—to her knees to pick up what she had knocked over.
“What’s going on here?” I demanded, my eyes on Salim.
Salim just stared boredly back at me. “This chit nearly bowled me over just now, that’s what. Is she yours?”
I knelt and touched my maid’s shoulder. “Astrid, are you all right?”
“I’m s-sorry,” she mumbled, her words slurred. “I didn’t mean to—I feel . . . my mind feels fuzzy.”
She was obviously out of sorts and likely drunk, though she didn’t seem the type. I grasped her face in my hands and stared at her. Her pupils were blown, her eyes dark red and bloodshot, and her fair cheeks were splotchy with color. And was that a bruise forming on her cheek?
“Astrid, did you have something to drink?”
She shook her head. “Yes, I mean . . . no. I don’t—not usually. He gave it to me and I—” She blinked rapidly. “I can’t remember.”
“Who gave it to you?” My eyes drifted to her ripped dress, her flushed face. A chill rushed down my spine. “What happened, Astrid?”
She shook her head again, tears in her red eyes. “I’m—I’m so sorry, milady. I don’t know. There was— There was a knock on your door, and I answered . . . then nothing. I can’t remember. It’s just—It’s just blank.”
“The girl obviously took something. You should keep a better leash on your servants, Highness,” Salim sneered. “I would dismiss her immediately if she were in my employ.”
“No, milady, please don’t dismiss me!” Astrid pleaded. “I don’t—I can’t—I didn’t mean—I can’t remember. . ."
“Shh,” I said. She was sobbing now. Worry for her clawed at me as I helped her to her feet.
I glanced at Malik. “Something must have happened. This isn’t like her.”
He looked at me a moment before his eyes shifted to Salim. “You’re sure you know nothing of this?”
“As I said, Your Majesty, I was returning to the feast when the girl ran into me. I know nothing else.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him. His expression was too calm, too blank. But short of calling him a liar, there was nothing I could do.