Page 25 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Twenty-Five

L ike so many times since I had come to this kingdom, I once again found myself tossing and turning in the covers of this ridiculously comfortable bed. I couldn’t sleep. And this time, it wasn’t due to the heat. I was blaming the stupid nightgown I wore.

Ever since the betrothal announcement a week ago, Astrid had loved dressing me in the things, oohing and aahing about how beautiful they all were when they had first been delivered to the room. And though I was grateful for the lighter, more airy Zehvitian fabrics, I was not a fan of the provocative, revealing styles. If I hadn’t known better, I would have thought dressing me like this was my maid’s way of trying to entice my would-be groom. Though no matter how many outrageous outfits I was dressed in, nothing more scandalous than sleeping was happening in that bed.

Not that Malik had pushed the matter. He had been a perfect gentleman, lying beside me every night, only insisting on holding me close as he drifted off. And that was only on the nights that he came to bed with me. He had been working late, as he was tonight, catching up on everything that no doubt needed his attention since the celebrations, funeral, and coronation.

I rolled over and my eyes fell on the small collection of plants outside the window, moonlight reflecting off their many leaves. And that in turn made me think of the palace gardens and everything we had done in that gazebo.

Agh ! No. I wasn’t thinking about that. Not again. I refused to think about that man and how he made me feel, or the rage I still felt towards him after arranging all this behind my back with my father without even consulting me.

No. I wasn’t going down that spiral again.

Sighing, I finally gave up on sleep, climbed out of bed and padded over to the terrace doors. Forgoing the slippers that sat there waiting for my use and deciding I would much rather feel the warm stone and cool grass under my bare feet, I stepped out into the night. The private courtyard was quiet and still, save for the hum of insects and the lap of water off the reflecting pool at its center. Taking a seat at the edge of the pool, I gazed down into the dark water. The scent of the flowers and plants that surrounded me filled my lungs as I tried to calm my racing mind.

It worked for about half a second before my mind was again dwelling on the situation I now inexplicably found myself in. I was betrothed to the King of Zehvi. I would be his queen.

I should have been on a ship right now bound for Halmar enduring Hilde’s disapproval as we headed back to Nevgard, my parents, and Silvanus. I had to admit that part did not sound too appealing, but I would get to see Helene and Nova. I would finally be able to escape this heat and see the ocean again.

Instead, no one was heading home. All the delegates and everyone visiting for the coronation had been invited to stay on at the palace until the Marking Ceremony in a week’s time.

Though I had to admit I would have missed Zara terribly, and exploring the city, and I would even miss—

Something flickered out of the corner of my eye. A quick movement in the reflection of the pool.

I reacted on instinct and dove to the side, barely avoiding the knife intended for me. I rolled and came up on my feet, my nightgown tangling around my legs. The assailant was dressed all in black, face covered, his uniform not unlike my own climbing suit. Male—if I had to guess, due to his size, but I could discern nothing else.

I took all this in in the split second before he renewed his attack, the knife in his hand glinting as he moved. He made to swipe across my belly and I jumped back. I blocked his next strike with my crossed arms. I was going to be bruised later if I survived this. I kicked out at his knee, but he evaded the blow. We traded a series of strikes, my attacker’s movements swift, sure, and silent.

This man had been sent by The Order—by Silvanus—to kill me. I was sure of it. This was my punishment for failing, for not following his orders and killing Zara.

Zara.

A chill went down my spine. I had no doubt this assassin had been ordered to go after Zara the moment he was finished with me. Unless he’d gone after her first.

Taking advantage of my momentary distraction, he got in past my guard and jabbed downward toward my leg. I moved. I heard fabric rip but felt no pain. He had missed me, but barely. Had I just been cursing this nightgown moments ago? Now I was more than thankful for the silky flowing material.

Catching his wrist before he could pull it back, I wrenched it to the side. He hissed in pain and let out a curse. His tone was low and barely discernable, but distinctly Halmarish. I yanked the knife from his hand, but before I could use it, he staggered back, holding his wrist.

I weighed the stolen knife in my hand, knowing I had to be careful. The blade would be poisoned.

Another figure clad in black materialized out of the darkness at the edge of the courtyard. This attacker had a slightly smaller build and approached from my other side. I backed up, keeping the pool behind me.

The second attacker held a dagger as well as he dashed forward. I dropped down, avoiding his initial strike, before sweeping his legs out from under him.

I would have followed it up with a slice from my dagger, but I only had a moment to turn as my first attacker charged me. Correcting my stance, I bent slightly at the knees. I was used to fighting people bigger than me. Everyone was bigger than me. I bent forward just as he reached me and, using his momentum, rolled him up over my shoulder. He hit the water behind me with a loud splash.

Not bothering to look back, I twisted to avoid the jab from my second attacker, who had now risen to his feet. I blocked his strike, then slid in close under his arm and stabbed upward. My blade sank into flesh. The man gasped and staggered back as I jerked away. My blade went with him, sticking out from his gut.

His dark eyes, which I could barely make out in the slit in his mask, appeared utterly shocked as he stared down at the knife, then back up at me. Then his eyes drooped, and he fell forward. He twitched on the ground for a moment—white foam spilling from his mouth—before going still.

I leaned down to grab my knife just as a cold, wet hand fisted my hair and hauled me backward, dragging me to the ground.

I landed hard on my back and had no time to recover before my soaked attacker climbed on top of me.

I cried out, realizing like an idiot that I hadn’t already done so. The struggle had been surprisingly quiet until now. I should have called out for help immediately, but I had been focused on defending myself. I had no idea whether Malik had yet returned to our rooms, but I hoped it alerted someone. Talonar were stationed outside the doors to our suite and I knew they patrolled the outer walls of our courtyard periodically throughout the night.

The assassin cursed low, and his fist connected with the side of my mouth. Pain lanced through my jaw and up into my eye. My lip split, and I tasted blood.

“Leida?” Malik’s concerned voice rang out from beyond the open terrace doors.

My attacker cursed once more, and I gasped in air as his weight rose off me and he fled.

“Leida?” Malik’s voice was closer now.

I watched as my assailant skillfully climbed up and over the courtyard wall. He had just disappeared from sight when Malik’s large frame appeared on the terrace. Two of the Talonar were right behind him.

Those sharp features darkened as Malik took in the dead man on the ground, and the state I was in as I began pushing myself to sitting. He was at my side in moments. Those large, rough hands were supremely gentle as he knelt before me, tilting my face to examine either side. His expression turned murderous.

“What happened?” he demanded, his tone roiling with barely leashed fury.

I shook my head and winced. “Couldn’t sleep,” I mumbled. “Came out here and they attacked me.”

His eyes darkened further as he took in the single dead man. “They?” he demanded, voice deceptively calm.

“There was another. He . . . got away.” I gestured weakly towards the wall.

Malik followed my gaze.

The two Talonar stepped forward. One was Brunara, the female warrior I remembered from the games. “We will find him, Your Majesty,” she promised.

But Malik held up a hand. “No need.” His gaze had gone distant.

A great roar filled the air. A gush of wind wafted my hair, and I looked up just in time to see Azrun’s deep red shape pass by overhead.

A shudder went down my spine, and I almost felt sorry for my attacker. Almost.

“Zara!” I suddenly remembered, clutching at Malik’s arm. “We must check on Zara. She might have been a target as well.”

Malik looked to the warriors. “Go,” he commanded, “and send for Tajan. I need him here.”

Both warriors nodded and were gone.

“ Isholet , look at me,” Malik ordered, his voice having gentled once more. His eyes met mine and scanned briefly over my face, his thumb rubbing softly over my lip. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

I shook my head, grasping onto his wrist. As we stared at each other, all the anger and resentment I had been feeling towards him the past few days fell away. All that was left was gratitude that he was here. My head throbbed and my face hurt, but I couldn’t help but nuzzle my cheek into his cupped palm. Either giving or seeking reassurance, I wasn’t sure. The look in his eyes changed, becoming even more intense.

The spell was broken as a scream of terror shredded the night. The sound of beating wings preceded another gust of wind, as Azrun dropped my surviving attacker onto the stone in front of us.

Azrun followed, making the ground shake with the force of his landing. He pressed one clawed foot down over the man, effectively creating a cage where only the man’s head could be seen peeking out between two giant claws. The massive dragon lowered his head to inspect the man and growled deep in his throat. Malik stood and strode over to them.

The assassin’s mask had fallen off, but I didn’t recognize him.

Azrun pulled back as Malik glared down at the assassin with barely concealed rage. His entire body was taut with tension. Then he crouched down and grasped the man by the throat.

“You made my queen bleed.” His voice was a deadly whisper, but I still heard every word. “You attacked her in our home, in my city, while she was under my protection. Letting my dragon gut you and then burn you alive will be the least of what I do to you.” He let go, and the man fell back to the ground with a gasping cough. “Take him to the dungeons,” Malik ordered, his voice like chipped ice. Guards I hadn’t heard approach moved to apprehend the man. “Do nothing until I come. I want to question him myself. Order a sweep of the palace for any other assailants. Also, send for a healer and your queen’s maids.”

“My king.” The four warriors put their fists to their hearts and bowed their heads before leaving, dragging the silent man in tow.

I doubted they would get anything out of him, even under torture. Failing The Order meant failing The Assassin himself, and we were trained to fear that more than anything else. Besides, he would most likely find a way to commit suicide at the first opportunity.

My eyes drifted over to my other attacker, and I watched numbly as his blood slowly filled the crevices between the stone tiles.

I wasn’t sure how long I had been staring at it before something warm and smooth carefully nudged me. I glanced over to find Azrun staring back at me. I had been so out of it that I hadn’t even noticed him shifting down to his minor form. Sitting as I was, his head reached higher than mine.

I was surprised, because Azrun had never approached me before. I couldn’t truly read his expression, but I thought I sensed his concern.

He sniffed faintly at the wound on my face and made a soft noise in his chest.

I hesitated only a moment before I cautiously lifted my hand and stroked along his broad snout. I figured Malik wouldn’t mind, considering the circumstances.

“I’m all right.” I assured him, giving the dragon a faint smile. “Thank you for hunting down my attacker for me.”

He snorted a huff as if to say, That was nothing.

And I smiled.

“I do not like seeing you in pain,” Malik said as the healer—the same healer who had seen to my injured hand—took his leave. He had given me a potion for the pain, telling me my bruised jaw would be sore for several days, along with a chilled water skin to help with the swelling.

I pressed it gingerly against my cheek now as I replied, “Not all of us have the luxury of dragon rider healing. I’m only human.”

His jaw ticked. “I wish you would not say that as if it were a bad thing.”

“It usually is.”

“You defended yourself well. Those men were highly trained, and you not only survived, but killed one as well.”

I snorted. “I wouldn’t have survived if you hadn’t shown up when you did.”

He didn’t reply as he began pacing before the bed. I sat leaning back against an obscene number of pillows that Astrid had fussed over after my bath. Azrun lay sprawled on the floor before the unlit hearth on cushions of his own. His eyes watched his rider, moving back and forth with him as he paced.

“First Zara and now you,” Malik muttered, his tone laced with rage.

Thankfully, Zara had been unharmed and blissfully unaware that anything was amiss until Malik’s men had charged in to check on her. Malik had already had men guarding her, but they had still done a thorough sweep of her room before reporting back that all was well.

“Someone targeted you both, likely because of me,” Malik continued, “though Taj’s spies still have no idea who it might be or why. The only thing connecting the attempts is the poison.” I didn’t need to ask him how he knew that it was the same poison. Taj had had it tested against the poison on the blade the assassin from the Healing Pools used and it was a match.

Guilt ate away at me as I sat there. I had the answers he needed, but couldn't bring myself to reveal them. Because then I would have to tell him everything, and I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

I also couldn’t get it out of my head that Silvanus had actually sent someone to kill me. I knew Silvanus didn’t care about me. I was just a tool to him. A weapon for his use, but a tiny, tiny part of me was still hurt that he wanted me dead. A member of his own Order—and his princess. But none of that seemed to matter to him at all.

My eyelids began to droop, the hit to the head and the lateness of the hour suddenly catching up to me. When I blinked them open, Malik had moved to my side of the bed and was smiling down at me.

“I’m awake,” I mumbled. “Keep talking. I’m . . . listening.”

But my eyes still felt heavy, and the next thing I knew, Malik was climbing into bed beside me and pulling me against his chest. My back to his front, his big arms encasing me. We fit together perfectly, as if our bodies were made to hold each other this way. I instantly relaxed.

“Sleep now, isholet ,” Malik murmured.

And so I did.