Page 2 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Two

A fter the conversation with my father, I actually did go walking in the garden to clear my head and had just returned to my room when my chamber door burst open.

“Finally, you’re back!” my sister cried as she entered. Though Helene was my twin, we looked nothing alike. Today her long, white-blonde hair fell loose down her back in smooth waves, with only a small braid above each ear to hold it back from her face. Mother would never let me get away with such a casual hairstyle, but Helene could. My sister’s eyes were a bright azure blue, and she was tall for a woman. Her gray Halmarish riding leathers fit like a glove to her lean muscular frame.

I, on the other hand, was small with more feminine curves than my sister, though I still had some lean muscles from my own training. I had inherited our mother’s russet hair, though my pale gray eyes were all my own. I hated them, but Helene said they were striking and almost appeared violet in some lights. Helene was my contrast in almost every way. She always had been. But I didn’t begrudge her for it. I loved her too much for that.

“Father told me he’s sending you to Zehvi for the funeral and coronation,” Helene said, before I could even get a word out. As she approached, her talisman—a beaten metal disc engraved with The Warrior’s symbol of a sword and shield—gleamed from a delicate chain at her throat.

Helene’s golden dragon sauntered in on all fours behind her. Nova’s minor form was smaller than Tarook’s, closer to the size of a cat, and her delicate gold wings were tucked in primly at her back. She leapt up on my bed and greeted me with a soft chuff in my direction before finding a spot amongst the furs there.

Helene had bonded with Nova during the celebrations only a few months after our eleventh birthday. Dragons usually only bonded with humans while they were both young, before the dragon or the human reached maturity, and the dragon’s age often mirrored that of their human counterpart. So, I had grown up with Nova as much as my sister had and loved her almost as fiercely.

There had been a time, especially when we were young, that I had wanted to be a dragon rider as desperately as my sister. But that hope had died in me the night I had gotten my scars—the same night my life had taken a different path. A darker one.

“I wish you were coming with me,” I said, just as my eyes caught on a small, inconspicuous roll of parchment on my bedside table. I froze. Though the parchment was entirely blank on the outside, I knew what I would find within.

The Assassin’s familiar seal. A fist grasping a bloody dagger.

My heart dropped as dread filled me. It had been years since . . . I sucked in a breath. Maybe he wasn’t summoning me for an assignment. Maybe it was for another reason. Maybe—

“Leida?” Helene’s clear voice cut through my spiraling thoughts. I quickly turned from the offending piece of parchment.

I gave my sister an apologetic smile. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Helene studied me for a moment, then seemed to shrug it off. She threw herself on my bed and stroked Nova’s head. I leaned over and did the same. It was usually frowned upon to touch a rider’s dragon unless given permission, but Helene and I had never had those boundaries.

Helene sighed. “I was saying that I wish I could come too, but Father has me running flight maneuvers with the trainees. Then he apparently wants me to go with him to The Summit with the Elders.”

“Oh, the joys of being the heir,” I teased her. “Poor baby.”

She tossed a pillow at me, but she was smiling. “Yes, while I’m stuck in some dusty tower with a bunch of old, stinking scholars listening to them complain about everything under the sun, you get to travel to Zehvi and spend time surrounded by gorgeous Zehvitian men and going to parties every night.” Helene sighed dreamily up at my stone ceiling as she lay on her back. “Realms, imagine spending a night or two with Prince Malik or Prince Amir.” She shot me a wicked grin. “Malik especially has a reputation for being a gifted bed partner. And for a Zehvitian, that’s saying something.”

“Helene!” I scolded, thoroughly scandalized by my sister’s words.

The Zehvitians were known for being a much more . . . open society than we Halmarish were when it came to their sexuality, dress, and manner, though the topics were rarely discussed in polite society. Where had Helene even heard such things?

“This trip is about attending their father’s funeral ,” I emphasized. “They are no doubt still grieving. Lovemaking will be the last thing on their minds.”

This time Helene rolled her eyes at me. “You don’t understand men like I do, little sister. Lovemaking is almost always on their minds.”

I grimaced. She was probably right. Helene commanded men and was around riders and soldiers on a daily basis. She had even had a brief interlude with one of my father’s commanders until he was reassigned outside the capital. She had been discreet, of course, as sexual relations before marriage—at least for a woman—were frowned upon in our kingdom.

I had never even been with a man before. But Helene had shared every detail of her affair with me, so I wasn’t completely na?ve on the subject. Though I had to admit to being utterly shocked when I learned what the act of sex entailed.

“Besides,” Helene continued, “I seriously doubt they will be mourning anything. Malik and his father supposedly weren’t even that close. Constantly arguing over the war and other political matters. And I heard Amir has drifted apart from the family in recent years.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked skeptically.

Helene shrugged. “People talk.”

“Well, personally, I would rather visit the Dark Realms than go,” I muttered, sitting on the bed beside her. I had come to this conclusion during my walk. Even if I was excited by the opportunity to see some place other than Halmar, it felt poisoned by what my father had asked of me.

Helene laughed. “It won’t be that bad. Zehvi is actually a beautiful country. Don’t let Mother’s opinions spoil it for you.”

“It’s not that,” I said with a sigh. Glancing at Helene now, I felt a stab of guilt. Perhaps it was because I was embarrassed, or maybe it was simply that I didn’t know how to tell her, but whatever the reason, something stopped me from bringing up what father wanted me to do while there.

Helene sat up. “Then what is it?”

I glanced out the window, then back at my sister. Not yet ready to tell her everything, I decided to bring up one of my other worries instead. “What if I embarrass myself? Or cause an incident in front of all the world leaders?"

She immediately waved away my concerns. “Oh, hush. Just try not to trip over your gown during any important moments and you’ll be fine.” Her grin widened at the glare I shot her, and her tone grew more serious as she continued. “Father wouldn’t have trusted you with this if he didn’t think you were capable.”

Her words might be true, but I would put more credence in them if our father didn’t have an ulterior motive for sending me.

“I suppose,” was all I said, then remembered. “And I’ll have Leif with me.”

Helene grinned. “Oh, good. Father took my suggestion then?”

“It was your idea?”

She shrugged. “I thought you could use a friend while you were there.” Before I could respond, she suddenly grabbed me in a fierce hug. “I’m going to miss you.”

I hugged her back just as fiercely and fought the sudden sting of tears. “I’ll miss you too.”

She pulled away and stared into my eyes, her hands still gripping my forearms. “Don’t be afraid to enjoy yourself, Leida. This is a chance for you to experience the world and get away from Halmar and our parents . . . especially Mother.” She squeezed me tightly. Helene had always tried to intervene where she could where our mother was concerned, but she couldn’t always be around, and she knew how hard she was on me. “This will be good for you, little sister. I just know it.” She smiled. “A lot can happen in two months.”

Nevgard Castle was the only castle in Palasia with a temple attached as part of its very design. The Temple of the Nine was dedicated to all of the Nine gods, and each of them was represented here. Each had their own temples in the city as well, but this was where the offices of their High Priests and Priestesses were located, and thus the reason for my visit.

As I stepped inside the drafty stone edifice of the temple, my eyes were immediately drawn to the eight grand statues that lined either side of the center aisle. Each of the gods was represented, save for The Necromancer, who was never depicted in any physical form so as not to draw his dark eye. On either side of me, cast in precious black obsidian, stood the other two dark gods of Palasia, The Assassin and The Traitor. I turned and bowed low to The Assassin before beginning the long walk toward the front of the temple. My footsteps echoed around me, and I noted there were hardly any patrons lingering in the pews. As I passed the three gray stone statues portraying The Trickster, The Thief, and The Crone, I saw a priestess carefully lighting candles by one of the multi-paned windows across the hall. She smiled softly at me, and I nodded back. I didn’t have many smiles left in me. Helene was the only one who seemed to be able to draw them out of me anymore.

Lastly, I came upon the three white marble figures of The Child, The Maiden, and The Warrior. I clutched my talisman in my fist as I passed The Maiden and knew I had to be imagining the flickering pulse of warmth coming from the stone in my hand as I did.

I turned left and made my way down the side hall to where Silvanus’ office was located. When I reached the familiar black door, I tried not to think of the many times I had walked this same path to this very door. Especially not that first time.

The temple was mostly dark and silent, and I leaned heavily on my cane as I made my way to the large door. The still healing skin on my back burned as I reached to knock. This man had to be able to help me. He was a High Priest. He would know how I could repay my debt.

I shook off the unwelcome memory as I took a deep breath and knocked once.

“Enter,” came the voice from beyond it.

I opened it without hesitation and walked inside.

Silvanus Gnarr, High Priest of The Assassin, sat behind his large desk clad in his traditional black robes, writing something on a piece of parchment. There were no chairs before his desk, though there was plenty of room for them. Silvanus did not want his visitors comfortable; he liked them ill at ease and off balance. But I was well used to his games and simply clasped my hands together before me as I waited.

Silvanus was a tall, thin man with drawn, sharp features and pallid skin. His head was shaved bald and his eyes, I knew, were such a light blue as to almost be eerie when they settled on you. I had no idea how old he was, maybe close to my father in years, but his features hadn’t changed in the nearly ten years I had known him.

I also knew that narrow frame belied the strength held within it. This man had been a dragon rider once but was now a Hollow One. The title was used much as the term widower to denote someone who had lost their dragon and chose to live on. This was rare, as the loss of the bond was said to be so debilitating that many followed their dragons into death rather than live without them.

It was several minutes before he finally deigned to put down his quill, interlace his long, slightly gnarled fingers on the desk before him, and look up. His unnerving eyes examined me.

The past and present seemed to merge as I stared back at him.

“Princess, what I can I do for you at this late hour?”

I fought to straighten my twelve-year-old frame as best I could, ignoring the painful protest of my realm's blasted body as I did. “I—I need your help. I made a vow to The Assassin . . . and I need your help to fulfill it.”

The High Priest gave away nothing of his thoughts as he leaned forward in his chair. “Explain.”

So I did. I explained about that night nearly a year ago when I had snuck into the Nest where the wild dragons were kept during the celebrations, convinced that if they could just see me one more time, one of them would bond with me and I could be a rider like Helene. I explained how I hadn’t known that Helene and her dragon had followed me. Then when it all went wrong, and we both lay there burned and dying, how I had vowed to any of the Nine that would listen that I would do whatever they asked so long as they spared my sister’s life and mine.

Pulling the two-sided talisman from my pocket, I showed him the dark symbol that was now imprinted on one side of the stone and how I knew it was The Assassin who answered my prayer. It was him to whom I now owed a debt.

“What do I need to do to uphold my vow?” I pleaded. “I’ll do anything you ask. Can you help me?”

The High Priest said nothing for several moments, but there was a gleam in his eye as he finally smiled and said, “Yes, I can help you.”

That same gleam was in his eyes now as he spoke.

“Why did you not come immediately at my summons?” His voice was reedy and cold.

I bowed my head. “My apologies, Your Eminence, I was with my sister. And before that, I had an appointment with the king. I got away as soon as I was able.”

The thin line of his mouth tightened even further. He did not suffer excuses, as I well knew, and he hated even more to be reminded that I was beholden to anyone other than him.

“That does not matter,” he hissed. “Your duty is to our god above all else.”

“You’re welcome to tell my father that, Your Eminence.”

His eyes flashed at my response, and he gritted his teeth. “Careful, girl. I will only tolerate your insolence so far.”

I had to fight the involuntary shiver that tried to race over me at the promise of pain in his stare. It had been several years since I had completed my training with The Order, and longer still since I had been bested by any of my fellow assassins while sparring. Silvanus may be older now, but I still had no wish to pit my skill against his.

After the night when I came to him, desperate to settle my debt with the dark god, Silvanus had gone to my father. He had convinced my parents that he wanted to train me, to make my wounded body strong again. To this day, I still wasn’t sure how he had persuaded my father to allow a woman who wasn’t a dragon rider to be trained, but to my astonishment, my father had agreed. Perhaps, in part, because of who Silvanus was and that he saw no point in not honoring the request or maybe he truly just did not care what I did with my time.

Either way, Silvanus never let on the real reason for my training. To join The Order of The Assassin and kill for our god. That is how you can repay your vow , Silvanus had said that night. That is what our god wants of you. Silvanus had trained me to do exactly that. Not that anyone knew the true nature of my instruction. After a few years, once I had gained back my body’s mobility, my father had ordered I stop training with Silvanus as he no longer saw the point. I hadn’t though. My training had simply moved to the hidden chambers below these very floors where the other Order members trained. I had never learned how Silvanus knew about the stone chambers below the temple, nor the hidden access to them through a tunnel just off the public entrance. He was not one to share secrets.

My family simply believed I had become more pious, seeking the solitude of the temple and the gods in the wake of healing from my injury. None of them knew the true reason for my continued visits to the temple or my meetings with the High Priest. I had kept it all secret, even from Helene.

“Forgive me,” I murmured to Silvanus with a slight bow.

Silvanus said nothing to my apology and instead leaned back to unlock a drawer in his desk with a key he kept around his neck. From the drawer he pulled a small, sealed scroll. He sat it on the desk before him without a word.

At the sight of it, my heart sank anew. The last glimmer of hope I had that this wasn’t going to be about a new assignment flickered and died.

Still, I couldn’t help a slight protest.

“Perhaps you have not heard, but the king is sending me to Zehvi tomorrow on a diplomatic mission. I will not be in Halmar to—”

“This assignment is not in Halmar,” Silvanus spoke over me. “I know of your father’s plans, girl, and that is precisely why you are receiving this before you leave. Your assignment is in Viraj.”

I swallowed. “But that’s in Zehvi.” Our order was small, maybe fifteen to twenty members by my guess. Only the man before me knew the true numbers, of course, but as far as I knew, we never carried out assignments outside of Halmar and rarely outside of Nevgard itself. “You have never assigned—”

My words dried up at the forbidding scowl on his face as he leaned forward.

“I have not assigned you anything.” He said the words slowly, as if I were a small child. “It is not I, but our Lord who is asking this of you. Who are you to question the will of a god? Do you forget your vow so easily?”

Everything inside me went cold and my internal protests died.

Admittedly it had been harder to remember it of late. Partly because I resented what I was, what I had had to become in order to fulfill my vow, but also because it had nearly been two years since my last job. I had thought—or rather, hoped—that The Assassin was finally done with me. That maybe I had finally paid back my debt to him and I wouldn’t be expected to kill any longer.

I clutched the talisman in my pocket so hard I wondered if my hand would bleed. Silvanus was right. It was not my place to question him.

“No,” I finally answered. “I have not forgotten.”

He sat back. “See that you do not. I would hate to think what might happen to you, or your lovely sister, were you to break a vow made to The Assassin himself.”

I hated the familiar spike of fear that assailed me at his words. But like I had done so many times before, I fought back the helpless rage and frustration and put it behind the emotionless wall inside me where it belonged. When I was sure it was contained, I silently stepped forward and collected the scroll. I caught the flicker of a satisfied smirk on Silvanus’ face as I did.

“Report back to me when you return from Zehvi,” he ordered by way of dismissal.

It wasn’t until I was back in my room that I checked to see if the seal had been tampered with. It hadn’t. I broke it quickly and unrolled the scroll.

My heart stalled in my chest at the neatly written words I found there.

At the name.

My mind raced. Surely there had to be some mistake? Silvanus couldn’t mean for me to—

I looked towards the closed door of my chamber as if expecting to find the High Priest standing there waiting to tell me this was all a cruel joke. But I knew there was no mistake. This was my target. Our god willed it.

Feeling numb, I continued unrolling the parchment and the tiny object I knew would be there fell into my waiting palm. A small, blackened vial wrapped carefully and sealed with a magically treated wax. Holding it delicately in my hand, I moved to the hearth. After reading the rest of the carefully detailed information I would need, I tossed the parchment into the licking flames.

My eyes lit once more on the top few lines as I watched them blacken and shrivel.