Page 21 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Twenty-One

T he day of the coronation dawned bright and warm, and from the moment I woke, there was a bustle of activity. I bathed, and as I ate breakfast, my hair was done up in one of the most elaborately braided hairstyles I had worn since coming here. I was representing Halmar today in every way. No more Zehvitian-inspired dresses for me.

Instead, I wore the gown my mother had told Hilde to pack for me specifically for the coronation. The gown was pale blue, trimmed in silver fur, with a square neckline and long sleeves. Thankfully, the fabric wasn’t as heavy as some, and there were stylistic slashes down the arms that allowed it to breathe.

As I put the dress on, it felt like I was donning armor against what I had let happen in the gazebo with Malik, and our conversation afterward. I refused to let myself dwell on what we had done—what his hands, his mouth, had made me feel. I absolutely could not think about the fact that he had implied it all had meant something to him. What did I think would come of it? He was as good as betrothed to someone else—to Priya. It was all anyone could talk about as the other courtiers and I made our way off the palace grounds and walked the short distance to the Temple of the Warrior just outside the gates surrounding the palace. Everyone was convinced Malik would announce his engagement tonight during the ball. I even noticed some people eyeing me speculatively, and I supposed I could understand why, since he had picked me for the dance last night.

Do you honestly think he will choose you? My mother’s sharp, horrible voice intruded on my whirling thoughts. You’re not even a dragon rider. What man would want you? Let alone a king. He might want you to spread your legs for him, but nothing more.

I fought to repress the vile words. So instead, my mind focused on something else Malik had said last night.

Don’t do that.

Don’t do what?

Retreat back behind that wall of yours.

The words replayed over and over in my head as we entered the temple where the coronation ceremony was to be held. Leif escorted me to our seats down near the front of the large, echoing nave. I wondered if I ever had the chance to come out from behind that wall Malik talked about, what I would find. Would that woman be terrifying and bitter and mean? Or maybe . . . maybe she could be someone kind. If she didn’t have to constantly worry about protecting herself and being who others wanted or expected her to be . . . if she could be herself . . . maybe she would be someone worth knowing.

“. . . rumor is that he is claiming he cannot remember what happened. Doesn’t know why he did it.”

The Zehvitian lady's conversation beside me interrupted my internal thoughts. Her companion, a ruddy faced elderly man sitting next to her, responded, “Total lie if you ask me. I heard they were postponing the trial. Blatant favoritism. Even Fangdar should not be immune from our laws.”

My stomach sank as I realized they were discussing Ramin. Zara had relayed to me that Taj’s investigation had stalled. He and his spies could find nothing more on the reasons behind the attack or what exactly had been done to Ramin. Malik had recently announced that they were postponing the trial until more information came to light. But it was only a temporary solution. Ramin’s dragon could only be sedated for so long while his rider was imprisoned. Sekar was currently being kept separate from Ramin, only allowed to rouse long enough to eat before being put back under again. A decision would have to be made soon.

I was just about to tell the two busybodies to shut their mouths about topics they didn’t fully understand, when the crowd outside let out a collective roar of excitement, and I knew Malik had arrived. Everyone inside the temple rose from their seats and turned as Malik appeared between the tall doors at the back of the hall. He was resplendent in a dark red cloak with Azrun at his side.

He stared straight ahead. When he reached the front of the room, he knelt before the priestess who stood there waiting. She looked to be the same one from the funeral as she spoke a few words in ancient Zehvitian while anointing his forehead with oil.

Then she began speaking in the common tongue, and Malik repeated after her. He swore the oath, pledging to honor the gods and uphold the laws of this land and defend and protect the people of this kingdom. The priestess then put the glittering gold and ruby-encrusted crown on Malik’s head.

He rose and turned to face the silent crowd, then removed his cloak. He was bare-chested underneath. A priest stepped forward and marked Malik with the Kathar family sigil directly over his heart. The inking process looked fairly detailed and took nearly a quarter hour. No one spoke, though, and Malik didn’t flinch once as the symbol was etched into his skin.

When it was done, the entire temple erupted into applause, the dragons roared, and cheers were echoed moments later by those outside. The Zehvitian people clearly loved their new king, and they were making it known.

The coronation ball was in full swing. The ballroom was stunning tonight. The alabaster stone pillars inlayed with carved mosaic designs glittered in the light of what felt like hundreds of hanging lamps and filigreed paper lanterns placed over glowing candles on the floor. The room had been decorated with the bright colors of red and gold, with accents of black. Sumptuous materials draped artfully from the ceiling, along with flags and banners stitched with the snarling dragon of the Kathar sigil. Arrangements of flowers littered the space and filled the air with the scents of orange, rose, and musk.

As couples danced and guests drank and ate and laughed, servants carried trays of milk sweets and delicate pastries filled with braised lamb and spiced lemon rice. Others brought around trays of wine, and the much harsher tasting ale that was popular in my homeland.

I stood off to one side, taking it all in while sipping on a glass of wine. I was trying to commit all the sights, sounds, and smells to memory, to memorize how it felt to be here. I was trying very hard not to think of the fact that I would be leaving tomorrow and would likely never return. Even though I missed home—or rather, I missed Helene and the sea and the cooler climate—I knew I would miss this place as well. I had found a part of myself here that I was afraid I would lose when I went back. And I did not relish the thought of seeing my parents again, or dealing with the fallout of my decision to stop working for Silvanus.

I would miss Zara and the other people I had met as well. And I couldn’t deny the sharp pang in my heart at the thought of never seeing Malik again. I could admit it to myself, even with things so unresolved between us.

My eyes were drawn, as they had been several times tonight, to the man in question. He was standing across the ballroom listening to a courtier who was talking animatedly to him. He now wore his crimson-scaled armor, and he looked so delicious my breath halted in my chest. I had never seen him in it before, and it was frankly unfair how it made him look so menacing and powerful.

We still had not spoken, not that I honestly expected him to seek me out. There really was nothing to discuss. He was incredibly busy with what seemed like every person in the kingdom wanting a moment of his time or to congratulate him.

Forcing myself to stop watching him, I let my gaze wander. It snagged on a corner of the room where Amir was holding court. He was reclining on one of the many seat cushions with two women sprawled over him as he drank, kissing one and then the other. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and he raised his glass to me before I glanced away, not for the first time thinking of how different siblings could be. Malik and Amir could not be more so. My sister and I were further proof of that.

My eyes roamed until they fell on Rajar Salim arguing with Nilfren. Salim looked angry. At first, I only noticed the men because it seemed like such an unlikely pairing in my eyes. I wondered what they could possibly be discussing.

I was contemplating slipping out for some fresh air on one of the balconies when a woman’s friendly voice cut through my thoughts.

“Hello, you must be Princess Leida.”

I glanced over to find a female dragon rider standing there with a smile on her face. She was probably only a few years my junior, with long white-gold hair and striking green eyes. She wore dragonscale armor that matched the jade-colored dragon that sat on her shoulder and had a belt of daggers around her waist.

I knew who she was immediately, though we had never been properly introduced. “And you are Corrine Darrow,” I replied.

She waved her hand dismissively. “No one calls me that. Call me Rin, please, Your Highness.”

“Rin,” I repeated.

Everyone in Palasia knew the story of the thief that bonded a dragon despite being too old to do so. She had been twenty years old when she bonded the famous Jade Dragon, and it was usually unheard of to bond after your twelfth or thirteenth year. Then, she trained to become a dragon rider and passed the rider trials all in under a year—also unheard of.

“You may call me Leida,” I found myself saying.

Her grin broadened, and I realized she was quite striking with her pale hair and flashing eyes. And that grin—wild and guileless, yet somehow still shrewd. It made me think of Helene. She gestured to the dragon on her shoulder. “This is Skye.”

Skye had been staring at me curiously with wide emerald eyes since the pair had approached me.

“Skye,” I murmured and bowed my head slightly to the creature. She gave me a nod of acknowledgement back. The dragon was beautiful and uniquely colored, her scales shifting from cream to the darkest dusky green.

“I met your sister during the trials,” Rin said. “I liked her. You’re—”

“Different?” I ventured sardonically.

She shook her head. “I was going to say you’re not what I expected. I thought you were twins.”

I took a sip of my wine. “We are, but I take after our mother.”

She nodded. “Have you enjoyed your time here in Zehvi? We only just arrived for the coronation, and I feel like I want to see everything.”

The woman seemed oblivious to the curious, wary, and speculative stares she garnered from those around her. I was used to it, and perhaps she was as well. Or maybe she simply didn’t care.

“I will be sad to leave,” I admitted, refusing to let my gaze even twitch in Malik’s direction.

As if she could sense where my thoughts had gone, she mused, “So, is it true?”

My brow pinched. “True?”

“All I’ve heard all day is how Prince—I mean—King Malik has been paying you special attention since your arrival. I’ve seen for myself how he can’t keep his eyes off you, but . . .” She trailed off when she took in the suddenly uncomfortable look on my face. Her expression immediately turned contrite. “I’m sorry, Leida. I shouldn’t have asked. Sometimes my curiosity gets the better of me and—”

“It’s fine,” I told her, seeing she was truly sincere. “I find it . . . refreshing, actually.”

Rin looked relieved, then a playful light lit her eyes, and she grinned again. “So is it true, then?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. This woman. Instead of finding her persistence rude as I might have in others, I instead found it endearing. Then I found myself countering with the same unabashed frankness, “Is it true that you and your queen’s spymaster are lovers?”

If rumors were to be believed, she was with Kyan Rakim, one of the three leaders of the Baldorian Rider Council, and one of the deadliest men on the continent.

Rin grinned at my equally impertinent question, but before she could speak, a deep voice confirmed, “That is true.”

We both looked towards the man who now stood at Rin’s shoulder. He was tall, with dark hair and lightly bronzed skin. I would have said he was Zehvitian, save for his shockingly blue eyes. His frame was broad and muscular, and I could just make out a hint of a tattoo on one arm peeking out from under the black dragonscale armor there. His expression remained neutral, while those blue eyes were like ice, cold and sharply assessing as he studied me. He was devastatingly handsome and utterly terrifying. I didn’t need Rin’s introduction to know who I was looking at. Commander Kyan Rakim was exactly what I thought he’d be.

Rin smiled up at him and greeted in a rather teasing tone, “Hello, commander.”

Commander Rakim said nothing, but he wasn’t able to disguise the hint of warmth in his eyes as he looked down at Rin. The devotion there . . . My heart clenched at the sight of it.

It was only as I glanced down that I finally took note of the menacing black dragon standing beside Rakim and staring directly at me. Realms! I gulped and only just stopped myself from taking an unconscious step back, clutching the talisman in my pocket. The beast was so large in his minor form that his head came up past his rider’s waist. He was even larger than Azrun.

“Naasir,” Rin scolded. “Stop it. She is not a threat.”

Skye fluttered down from Rin’s shoulder to land beside Naasir. To my shock, the much smaller female rubbed her body against his legs, and the black dragon bent down to nuzzle at her in response, releasing a contented huff as he did. Skye responded with a preening chirrup.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” Rin said. “They’ve recently mated and are, quite frankly, insufferable when they are together.”

Naasir released a rumbling growl, and Rakim shot him a warning glare. Dragon and rider stared at each other a moment before he returned to greeting his mate.

Unexpected humor bubbled up inside me at the interaction. But deciding it might be prudent to change the subject, I asked, “How long do you both intend to stay in Zehvi?”

“We’re leaving as soon as possible,” Rakim answered.

Rin eyed him. “King Malik asked us to come,” she clarified. “We have some business with him before we leave. So probably another few days.”

“What are we discussing?” another voice suddenly interrupted.

A ripple of awareness lit up my skin as Malik stepped up beside me. It was as if, after last night, my body was even more attuned to him than it had been before.

Completely oblivious to how I was suddenly having a hard time breathing, Rin greeted Malik warmly. “It is good to see you again, Your Majesty.”

“You as well, Rin.”

Her smile grew teasing. “The crown suits you.”

“It does, doesn’t it?” Malik grinned back with his usual endearing arrogance.

“I’m surprised you could get it to fit, Your Majesty ,” Rakim said in all seriousness, not even bothering to hide the implied insult or the contempt in his stare as he glared at Malik.

Malik didn’t take the bait, however. He simply nodded at the other rider with an almost amused resignation. “Hello to you too, Rakim.”

The tension between the two men was palpable. And I got the feeling it was more than the fact that both men had been leaders in the only recently ended conflict between their countries. No, this tension seemed personal. Though I couldn’t imagine what it could be.

Rin rolled her eyes. “You two.” Then she shot me a commiserating look that clearly said, Men!

“Actually, as much as I would love to verbally spar with you, Rakim, I need to speak with Princess Leida.” Malik glanced at me before returning his gaze to them. “So, if you will excuse us? Enjoy the rest of the ball.”

I didn’t have any time to protest before Malik took my arm and led me off to a slightly more secluded section of the ballroom. A large pillar afforded us some privacy from prying eyes.

He finally released my arm and turned to face me. “We need to talk.”

I clasped my hands in front of me, making sure my face remained serene. “No, Malik, we don’t. I don’t want to talk about last night. What’s done is done. There is no need to bring it up again.”

“This isn’t about last night,” Malik said in frustration. “I’ve been wanting to speak with you all day, but there simply hasn’t been time.”

I blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He stared at me. “I’ve been trying to—”

“Malik are you ready for the announcement?” the queen asked. She stood at Malik’s side and acknowledged me with a nod before turning fully to her stepson.

I had been so absorbed in talking to Malik that I hadn’t even noticed her approach.

Malik took in a deep breath before turning to her. “Yes, I am. I will be there shortly.”

The queen eyed us both as if she had just realized she had interrupted something. A hint of worry pinched her elegant brow, but she said nothing and simply nodded before stepping away again.

“What announcement?” I asked Malik as he turned back to me.

He sighed. “That’s what I’ve been trying to talk to you about.”

The realization hit me. Announcement. The Announcement. Malik was to announce his betrothal to his future queen. To Priya.

My stomach dropped. This was why he wanted to talk to me. Sadness and hurt swelled inside me, followed quickly by white hot anger. But my pride would not allow me to let it show.

My back stiffened. “There is no need to apologize, Your Majesty. As I said last night, it meant nothing.”

Malik's brow furrowed, and he reared back slightly. “Apologize?”

I nodded. “There is no need for you to feel guilty about what occurred in the garden. I don’t want or need your pity. Especially not in light of what’s about to happen.”

“Guilty,” Malik repeated. He straightened to his full, intimidating height, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “And what exactly do you think is about to happen, Princess?” he challenged.

I glared at him, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Fine. If he wanted to make me say it aloud, I would. “You are about to announce Priya as your betrothed.”

His eyes flared, but his expression gave away nothing as he stared back at me. Another tense second passed before he finally turned his attention to the queen, who waited just out of earshot, and he nodded to her with a tight smile.

Without another word or glance at me, he strode for the small dais that had been erected at the front of the ballroom. A steward quickly motioned to the musicians. Once the music halted, he called the room to attention. Everyone quieted and turned to face the dais.

The queen had moved away to stand at the base of the dais with Zara, who was beaming with excited anticipation. Amir was nowhere to be seen, and I wondered if he and his two companions had already found somewhere else to be for the night.

Malik waited until everyone had quieted down before speaking. “As many of you know, it is tradition for new monarchs to choose their Hassai on the night of their coronation. I intend to continue that tradition tonight.”

Excited murmurs broke out among the guests, and I wasn’t the only one that glanced, none too subtly, at Priya, where she stood beside her father. She had her eyes glued to the king as he spoke, a self-assured smile on her too perfect lips.

I noted several gazes were watching me as well, and I felt sick as I placed a hand on the pillar, suddenly needing it to steady myself as Malik continued.

“I see no need for preamble.” He grinned, effortlessly charming as always. “The woman I have chosen as my Hassai, to be my wife and your future queen, is . . .”

I held my breath along with the rest of the room. The name rang out loud for all to hear.

“Princess Leida Ivar.”