Page 14 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Fourteen

T he balmy night air whipped a strand of my loose hair into my face as I spun on my heel and swept my arms out to the sides in order to keep my balance. Standing atop the stone wall that ringed the roof of the palace, my feet were precariously close to the edge of the several hundred-foot drop that awaited should I fall.

After checking on Astrid that morning and finding she had suffered from a fever and chills in the night and that she still remembered nothing more from the night before, I told her to take the day off. I had spent the remainder of the day trying to take my mind off what today was the anniversary of. I especially didn’t want to think about any other aspect of last night, namely Malik.

Unfortunately, the entire day had been a failed attempt at distraction. A walk in the garden didn’t help, and my books weren’t holding my attention. When I finally gave up and returned to my room, I sat on my bed staring at the wall for what felt like hours, sending my excuses and missing dinner entirely. Eventually, I let Hilde help me undress and slip into a nightgown before dismissing her outright. Her disapproving stare had lingered on me before she finally complied.

Once I was alone, I had donned one of the thinner Zehvitian style robes that Astrid had obtained for me and slipped out to my balcony. It had been surprisingly easy to climb down the wall, back into the palace on the first floor, and sneak into the kitchen cellars. There I had confiscated the first bottle I came across and snuck back out.

I took a drink of the stuff now as I paced along the wall and stared out at the palace grounds and the city beyond. In the distance, I could just make out a dragon alighting on one of the massive stone pillared platforms throughout the city that were meant for such a purpose. Though it honestly could have just been a bird. My vision was a bit blurry.

I sighed, gripping my talisman in the pocket of my robe. If only I had wings . Then I could fly away and leave everything behind. I wouldn’t have to be me. I could simply be a dragon, with no parents or politics or assassins to worry about, only the wind, and perhaps my next meal, and—

“What are you doing up here, Princess?” a deep voice asked from behind me.

I spun to find a man standing there. He was Zehvitian, of course, his form tall and broadly muscular. He wore the billowing, wide-legged pants that many in this kingdom preferred, and his chest was partially visible under the open sleeveless tunic he wore, leaving his toned, tattooed arms on full display. His feet were bare as well. He carried himself like a warrior, but one that was relaxed and at his leisure. Something about his bearded face was familiar, but even when I squinted, my vision remained blurry, and I couldn’t get a good look at him. Oh well. It didn’t matter who he was, I supposed.

In answer to his question, I held up the bottle of spirits I had been imbibing for the last hour or . . . however long it had been.

The man glanced at the bottle in my hand, and his brows rose to his hairline. “Siren, you do realize what drink that is, don’t you?”

I shrugged. “No. At first it tasted sort of strong, but now I can’t taste anything.” I hiccupped. “My mother never let me have more than one glass of wine at a time. She said it wasn’t ‘befitting a lady of my station’,” I quoted. “Pff, I don’t see what the matter was. I’ve had nearly the whole bottle, and I don’t feel any different.”

I still couldn’t see all that well given the darkness and my impaired vision, but I think the man’s lips twitched.

“I see,” he murmured, stepping closer. His tone suddenly became gentle as he asked, “Did something happen?”

“Nope,” I assured the stranger, twirling on my heel on the stone and stumbling slightly. The world looked like it was floating. Either that or my eyes were watering. I was up really high. “Nothing happened. I’m just wonderful. How are you?”

He didn’t reply. “How did you get up here?”

I blinked several times. Was he getting closer to me? I shrugged again. “I’m good at climbing.” I motioned to my bare feet. I saw him glance at them, then down to the gardens far below.

“You climbed up here?” He sounded part disbelieving and part impressed.

“Uh, huh.” I hiccupped again. “I’m very good at it.”

“Good at what?”

“Climbing.”

“I’m aware,” he said, though his voice was part amused and part incredulous this time. “We will discuss that more later.” He said the latter nearly under his breath. “But you never answered my question. Why are you up here?” He glanced pointedly at my hand. “With a bottle of my finest silac?”

My eyes widened. “Is that what this is? Well, it’s disgusting.” I glanced up at the wide blanket of sky overhead and popped my lips before finally remembering to answer his question. “And I’m up here because I can’t breathe down there . . . And this makes it easier,” I mumbled, taking another unladylike gulp and then grimacing. If my mother could see me now. But I wasn’t thinking about her or Silvanus or anything to do with home. That was the point. Though, I forgot my resolution the moment the man asked his next question.

“Makes what easier?”

“Today,” I explained, realizing he was definitely moving closer to me. “It’s the anniversary.”

“The anniversary of what?”

I sighed, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. “Of the first time I killed someone,” I admitted. I was staring down the neck of the bottle, but I felt him freeze where he stood only a few feet away from me now.

“Killed someone?” he repeated carefully.

I nodded. “Didn’t have a clue what I was doing. Nearly got caught . . . just like the last time. He makes me"— hiccup —"do it, you see.”

I caught his shocked expression, but then quickly dismissed it as unimportant.

“Who makes you?” he asked quietly.

The Dark God. The High Priest. Who knew anymore? “What does it matter?” I said aloud as I took another step and the floor seemed to suddenly disappear completely under my foot. I wobbled, but then quickly righted myself.

“Be careful!” he admonished sharply. “You’ll fall.”

I snorted. “What does it matter?” I said again. “No one would care if I did.” A wave of familiar sadness overcame me as I stared down at the lights of the city and the ground far below. “That’s not entirely true,” I said to the ground. “My sister would . . .” My sight began to waver, and my balance felt more precarious the longer I stood there. I listed forward—just as firm hands clasped me at the waist, halting me. Then I was picked up and lowered slowly until my feet touched the warm stone of the rooftop.

“Thank you,” I said, as solemnly as possible as I glanced up, but it was hard to do when the man’s face blurred before mine. “Nine Realms, you’re big!” I told him.

Instead of responding, he simply kept ahold of me, moving his hands to my arms to steady me. His handsome face came into focus and his expression was stern. “Leida, what do you mean the first time you killed someone? Who makes you?”

“Shh,” I reached up and put my fingers to his lips, “no one is supposed to know.” I poked at the furrow between his brows. He was too pretty to look so angry. “And don’t call me Leida,” I added. Then I grinned. “I like siren better . . . or isholet . . . though Malik only called me that once, and I can’t bring myself to ask him what it means.” My head was spinning. I frowned and glanced back up at the man holding me. “Do you know what it means?”

“Siren—” he began.

“Who are you again?”

That was when I lost all feeling in my legs, and I collapsed. Or at least, I would have if the man hadn’t caught me and swung me up into his big arms. I heard a clunk that sounded like my precious bottle hitting the floor.

“My drink!” I protested. I lurched in his hold, trying to grab for it, but his strong arms held me firmly against his solid chest, refusing to let me pick it up.

He sighed. “All right, off to bed with you.”

“Wait,” I muttered, about to protest some more, but suddenly I could no longer keep my head up. It felt too heavy. So I rested it against the smooth skin of his neck and inhaled deeply. I hummed. “You smell lovely,” I mumbled against his skin. I was vaguely aware of the sensation of movement and that we might be going down some stairs, but I didn’t want to lift my face from his glorious scent to check. “Like Malik,” I whispered.

I felt as well as heard a deep, pleasing chuckle come from the man’s chest. Then he spoke low, “And what does this Malik smell like, my little siren?”

I tried to blink, but found my eyes were already closed. “Like sandalwood and amber,” I breathed dreamily. “He smells good. All. The. Time. It’s supremely aggravating . . . and wonderful.”

The man chuckled again. “I hope for your sake, you don’t remember this in the morning.” He paused. “Actually, I hope you do.”

“Hmm . . .” was my verbose reply as my head lolled to the side and my eyes opened. I took in the plant fronds and flowers overhead, barely obscuring the night sky as he carried me through a familiar courtyard and down an open corridor of the silent palace.

“I love it here,” I confessed. “I don’t want to go back home.” My voice sounded small and forlorn in the quiet around us.

There was a pause. “Why not?”

“It’s beautiful there and there are some things I miss, but . . . I-I hate who I am there . . . who they make me be. It’s . . . suffocating.” I exhaled wistfully. “I just want to stay here and drink fruit juice until I make myself sick.”

Another deep chuckle. “Fruit juice? That is why you want to stay in my country?”

I nodded, though I doubted he could see it in the shadows that engulfed us. “Yes. Well, not just fruit juice. I love the gardens and the music, and the people are nice . . . mostly. Zara is lovely.”

Another pause. “Yes, she is.”

“Though the heat is awful.” I made a face with this last statement and there was another rumble from the man holding me.

“Anything else?” he asked.

I thought for a moment and, unbidden, a wicked grin and flashing amber eyes came to mind. Eyes that seemed to smolder with flames whenever he looked at me. That keen predatory light that was also somehow intensely protective reminded me so much of the creatures that dominated my world.

“Leida?” the masculine voice prompted.

Closing my eyes and snuggling closer to the warmth surrounding me, I answered, “My dragon. I will miss my dragon.”

“Your . . . dragon? ” the voice asked.

But I must have dozed off, because I never had the chance to respond. The next thing I was aware of was being placed carefully on a bed. I snuggled into the pillows, sinking into their cool softness. A weight sat next to me and a hand stroked lightly down my cheek. “Sleep well,” he murmured.

I reached out blindly as I felt his warmth pulling away. “Stay,” I mumbled, hardly conscious of the plea before it left my lips.

There was a pause. I felt myself beginning to sink down into sleep—the heavy, dark sleep that came from drinking too much wine—before the reply came.

“Soon, isholet . Soon.”

But I was already lost to heavy oblivion.

I woke the next morning to a throbbing head, a dry throat, and desperately in need of a drink of water. When I finally had the ability to open my eyes in the painful shafts of sunlight, I glanced down to find my fingernails were chipped and dirty, almost as if I had been—but that was absurd. Surely I hadn’t been climbing? I remembered sitting in my room, feeling like I would come out of my skin if I didn’t do something . . . then I retrieved the drink.

Then . . . everything was hazy.

What had I done last night? Vague images of Malik’s face swam in my mind’s eye. I was confused, then horrified as I realized he had been there last night. Not only that, he had brought me here and put me to bed. Humiliation boiled through me and I laid back in the bed with an arm thrown over my eyes. Curse the Nine! Malik had seen me drunk. I cringed to think what I might have said or done. I never drank. So the possibilities were endless.

My headache was slow to abate, and my stomach was unhappy, so I stayed in bed for most of the morning. Leif had already come by to check on me. I had no plans to go out tonight since it was the Unari celebration, and I would definitely not be attending. Hilde would no doubt have something to say about my missing the celebrations two nights in a row—and a holiday besides—but I didn’t care. I wasn’t going. And as far as Malik was concerned, once again, I vowed to simply avoid him as much as possible.

That plan was foiled, however, when Astrid informed me that it was tradition for the nobility to participate in the city celebrations rather than those in the palace and the prince had requested that I accompany him. There was an excited twinkle in her eye when she told me. She had been rather subdued all morning, and it was good to see a spark of her old self returning.

As yet, no answers had come to light regarding what exactly had happened to her the other night or if she had in fact been drugged by someone. I still wanted to suspect Salim, but knew I couldn’t act on those suspicions unless I had more proof. And Astrid’s memories were murky and unreliable at best.

“Requested?” I asked her. “Or ordered?”

“Does it matter, my lady?” she asked, looking uncertain. “He is the future king.” When she took in my frown, she continued carefully, “But—I am sure you could refuse him if you truly wanted to.”

“You should refuse,” Hilde advised. “It is not appropriate.”

“How will it not be appropriate?” Astrid asked in true confusion. “They will be attended by guards and in full view of the entire city.”

Hilde merely huffed.

I did want to refuse Malik’s invitation. Aside from the fact that tonight’s celebration would mean hundreds of bonfires would be lit throughout the city, which sounded like my own personal nightmare, I had no doubt that Malik was only doing this because he wanted to discuss what happened last night or at least tease me mercilessly.

The man was too arrogant by half. He knew I could not really refuse his invitation. What possible reason could I give? Nothing that wouldn’t be seen as a slight from my kingdom to his. Even if I pled a headache or some such thing, I wouldn’t put it past Malik to come to my rooms and check on me. So I might as well go with him. He had really left me no choice, and he knew it.

Trying valiantly to ignore the flutter in my chest at the thought of seeing him, I looked back at Astrid. “All right, I’ll go.”

Her smile appeared, and she clapped excitedly. “Excellent. Now, what will you wear?”