Page 6 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Six

A few days later, I sat in the shade of an overhanging tree by a small pool I had found in an obscure part of the sprawling palace gardens. In an effort to alleviate the oppressive heat, I had hiked my skirts up above my calves, yanked off my slippers, and was trailing my feet in the cool water. My chosen sanctuary was just off one of the dozens of winding paths and was surrounded by flowers, shrubs, and other tall trees. So much so that I was confident no one would stumble upon me by chance.

It was early evening, and everything was bathed in the warm colors of the setting sun. Even the water of the pool reflected them back to me. A white stone gazebo sat secluded on the other side of the pool. It was quiet, save for the sound of the lapping water and the hum of insects. I was totally alone.

I reveled in the solitude and tranquility around me. I hadn’t been alone or hardly had a moment to myself since I had sailed for Zehvi nearly two weeks ago. I was often alone back in Halmar. After completing my training with Silvanus and my mother’s lessons, unless I was required at some formal gathering or other, I was pretty much left to my own devices. And I had grown to like it that way. I wasn’t used to being around so many people. Between the constant celebrations and banquets every night, and Hilde and Nilfren’s disapproving stares—not to mention the many eyes on me wherever I went—it felt like I had been slowly suffocating. So finally, today, after the midday meal, I had made the excuse of being tired and went up to my rooms and sent my maids away. The second the doors were closed behind them, my mind drifted to what I could do. Then my eyes fell on my chamber’s open balcony doors and the gardens.

After collecting my guards and telling them to stay far back, I made my way out to the gardens.

Now, feeling a rare lightness in my chest, I began to hum the notes to a familiar song and then, a few lines in, I began to sing. The words fell from my lips into the quiet evening as I sang about a girl and the warrior she met by chance in a garden. It was a sweet, carefree tale with a tune to match, and it very much fit my mood.

I didn’t care if the guards heard me. I had loved to sing since I was a child, but I only ever did it for myself. Helene knew I sang, but it was rare I did it in front of her anymore. I had found myself singing less and less as I got older. Life . . . and my work for The Order had gotten in the way. In recent years, it had felt like the music had simply drained out of me. I no longer had a desire to sing.

As I sat there and eventually lay back on the grassy bank, I tried to recall the last time I had felt the urge to sing before today. I couldn’t remember. The thought soured my mood, and I drew the song to a close, my tone slightly softer and more subdued as I sang the final note.

“Beautiful,” a voice declared from close by.

I sat up with a gasp and turned to find Prince Malik standing several feet away. I had been so lost in the music and my own thoughts that I hadn’t noticed his approach. He had taken a few steps off the path and was staring at me with an expression that was hard to decipher—almost a mixture of fascination and pleased surprise.

“What are you doing here?” I snapped, feeling my face flush as I quickly removed my feet from the water, sloshing much of it on myself in the process, and pulled down my skirts.

The prince took in my movements with bemused eyes. “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he said in that clear, slightly accented voice of his—the one I couldn’t help but think sounded like music of its own. “I often walk out here to clear my mind. Then I heard your voice . . .”

My blush deepened. I wasn’t entirely sure what to say in response, feeling oddly vulnerable, so I simply gave him my iciest stare as I got to my feet.

To my surprise and annoyance, he didn’t react to my glare. Instead, he took in my stiff posture and expression, and his own changed to amusement. I had to bite back the urge to ask him what he found so funny.

Once he seemed to realize that I had no intention of responding, he smiled disarmingly. “I didn’t realize you could sing, Princess.”

“And why should my singing surprise you?” I demanded, ignoring the way his smile made my belly clench.

“You just don’t seem the type.”

My back stiffened. “Well, there is a lot you don’t know about me, Your Majesty.”

He regarded me closely, those deep, golden-brown eyes boring into me. “I can see that. Do you ever perform?” he asked.

“Perform?”

“For your court or your family,” he clarified. “Do you ever perform for them?”

Startled by the question, I answered honestly. “Of course not. No one knows I sing—except my sister—and they wouldn’t care to hear from me even if they did.”

His heavy brows came together. “Why ever not? A gift such as yours should be shared and enjoyed. What little I heard would make The Maiden herself weep for joy. You have been blessed by the Nine. Surely your family would want—”

“Trust me, they wouldn’t,” I cut him off, an icy hollowness to my voice that I hated. For some reason I seemed to have a harder time masking my emotions around this man. “Now, if you will excuse me.” I made to move past him, back onto the path, but he stepped in front of me.

My eyes rose to his, and I tried not to notice the broadness of his chest, or the width of his shoulders, and especially not the sandalwood and amber scent wafting off him as he stepped close. But he was just so big , I couldn’t help but think he would dwarf even Leif, or my father should they stand side by side.

“Yes?” I gritted out, trying to remember I was in a foreign kingdom and at present the future king of said kingdom stood before me. I couldn’t be rude, no matter how much his high-handed ways irritated me or how his nearness affected me.

His eyes danced with real humor now as he leaned down slightly so we were closer to eye level. “I believe you’re forgetting something, siren,” he murmured, tipping his chin behind me.

Annoyed at his use of a nickname, I was about to tell him off, but forgot all about it as I glanced over my shoulder and saw my slippers still sitting where I left them beside the pond. Together, we both glanced down at my bare feet currently peeking out from under my hem. My toes curled and my cheeks flamed, curse my fair complexion that didn’t hide anything.

I spun around and retrieved my shoes, slipping them on quickly and trying to avoid looking at the smirk I knew was on his face. I ignored him completely as I stepped onto the path back towards the palace, intent on getting as far away from this man as possible. I barely took note of his guards and mine that waited further down the path.

“No need to run away on my account, Princess,” he said.

I paused. “I’m not running away.”

He simply raised a dark eyebrow.

“I just remembered I have somewhere I need to be.”

“And where might that be?” he asked. “The banquet is not for a few hours yet.”

I tried to remember that my father wanted me to make a good impression on this man, to get close to him, but in this moment, all I wanted to do was wipe that smug smile off his too-attractive face. “I’m not sure what concern it is of yours, Your Highness. ” This time I did not try to conceal the irritation in my voice.

He clasped his hands behind his back and strode closer until we were mere feet apart. And again, to my extreme aggravation, the insufferable man grinned. Grinned.

“Oh, it most certainly is not my business, which is exactly why I want to know.” Before I could even think of what to say to that, his dark head tilted. “Have I done something to earn your ire?”

I blinked at him, taken aback at his directness. “Excuse me?”

“Have I offended you in some manner I am unaware of? Because you act as if I have irritated you in some way, though I cannot fathom why.”

I clasped my hands before me and answered calmly, “No, Your Highness, you have not offended me. I’m sorry if anything I said gave you that impression.”

His eyes took in my new stance, my blank expression, and his brows came together. “Princess—” he began.

But before he could say more, a man rounded the hedge at the end of the path. I quickly recognized him as Harun, Malik’s second and head of his Fangdar. The tall man skirted our guards and drew closer. “Mal, I have the reports concerning—oh!” He finally looked up from the parchment in his hands and halted a few feet away. “Your Highness,” he nodded to me. “My apologies for interrupting.”

“You interrupt nothing,” I told him.

Malik’s smirk returned at my response, as did the humor in his eyes, before he asked, “Did he not?”

Harun’s gaze shot between the two of us as I glared daggers at his sovereign. “I’ll just . . . come back later—"

“No need,” I said. “We’re done here.”

I thought I might have caught a glint of humor in the rider’s eyes as I dipped my head in the barest farewell to both of them and began to walk away.

“I will see you tonight at the banquet, Princess,” Malik called.

I didn’t bother to respond.

Luckily, the group I was seated with that night at dinner had been made up of Zehvitian nobles more interested in sampling the palace wine than in conversation. I had been relieved that I wasn’t sitting by the prince—apparently it was Zehvitian custom to rotate seating placement during the course of the funeral celebrations—especially not after our interaction in the garden this afternoon. I avoided looking over at the high table at all costs and excused myself the moment it was socially acceptable.

I could have sworn I felt eyes on me as I slipped away, but when I glanced back toward the dais, where the feeling had originated, the prince and other members of the royal family were all otherwise occupied. Dismissing it, I had retreated to my rooms with my guards in tow. I allowed my maids to dress me in my nightgown before dismissing them for the night.

When they were gone, I quickly stripped and donned the Zehvitian style flowing pants and fitted tunic I had purchased when we were staying at the inn in Viraj. A simple shawl completed the ensemble, and I used it to cover my head and pulled it low to cover the sides of my face. Once I was satisfied my identity was as concealed as I could make it, I slipped barefoot over the side of the balcony with my shoes tucked in my waistband. I shimmied down to the gardens, put on my shoes, and crept through the foliage around the outside walls. A small gate I had noticed earlier led me to a courtyard beyond, and I was soon on the road that led down to the main gate, my desired destination.

Since I was exiting the palace rather than entering, the guards barely spared me a glance as I swept past and out into the city. No doubt in my current garb, they assumed I was a servant making my way home for the night, or that I meant to join the celebrations.

In no time at all, I had joined the revelers on the streets and slipped by unnoticed. My gaze took in my surroundings, eager to see what a celebration out amongst the people of this peculiar kingdom was all about.

All of Taveran was alight with torches and braziers set at intervals along the streets. Tavern doors were flung wide, patrons streaming in and out, laughing and drinking. Market stalls and shops were still open and doing a steady business. The air was thick with the scents of spiced meat, ale, and fresh bread. Music drifted to me from several street performers. A man with a monkey on his shoulder played some kind of lute, while a woman danced barefoot, sensually swinging her hips, tied with small clattering symbols that shook as she moved. She wore only a short, sheer skirt and a swath of fabric across her breasts.

I couldn’t help feeling uncomfortable and somewhat scandalized at the display. Barbarians, the lot of them. Heathens with no decency or decorum. My mother’s voice played in my mind as I walked by, glancing away.

I also passed a trio of fire eaters and made sure to give them a wide berth as I skirted the crowd of enraptured onlookers. The heat from the flames kissed my skin, even at a distance, and I shuddered at the dreaded sensation.

Everywhere I looked, I spotted the Kathar family sigil—a roaring dragon’s head—and nearly everyone I passed wore at least some small token of white clothing.

I was careful to avoid any city guards or dragon riders that were mingling amongst the crowd. I was confident my disguise held, and I knew none of them would ever think to look for the demure Halmarish princess out here, but I was still cautious. Even though I wasn’t a prisoner here by any means, and no one would stop me from taking part in the celebrations, the last thing I needed was for Leif or Hilde to find out I had slipped free of my guards and for it to get back to my mother. But the risk was worth it to me to get to see the city and its people as they truly were, without anyone knowing or caring who I was.

As I kept moving farther into the city, a stall owner I passed tried to entice me to buy a jeweled necklace, while another tried to offer me a small bird with colorful feathers and a long beak that looked odd on its small face. I declined with a smile and noticed a small crowd that had gathered in the center of one of the main thoroughfares.

I bought some sweetmeat on a stick from one of the vendors and made my way over to see what had drawn such a crowd.

An older woman was standing on a dais—a story weaver, I realized—already in the midst of telling her tale, her audience spellbound. I paused to listen.

“The war had raged long enough,” the woman was saying, “and so a summit was called.” I recognized the tale instantly. It was the story of Lethara’s three grandsons and the formation of the three kingdoms. Queen Lethara had been the first dragon rider and had used her bond with the great dragon Severion to unite all of Palasia into a single kingdom ages ago. She and her consort had a son who eventually had three sons of his own. When he died, his three sons had fought over who should be king. It was some of the most vicious fighting in our recorded history, brother against brother, and dragon army against dragon army.

“At the summit, after days and nights of arguing and negotiation, Lethara’s three heirs decided the land of Palasia would be divided. It is said that Lethara’s Heart was broken into three parts that day,” the story weaver continued, “but it had to be done. It was the only way to stop the fighting. Aarav, the true heir and oldest of the three, chose the golden sands and rich mines of the east with its nomadic tribes as his people. He took for his own his grandmother’s dragon sigil, as was his right. The second grandson, Rodrick, chose the heart of Palasia with its fertile fields and dominion of its northern coastline and its hard, seafaring people. Lethara’s third and youngest grandson, Natham, took the remaining western woods, with its trees and rivers, and resourceful mountain clans. And while the brothers embraced the unique customs and traditions of their new peoples, they also instilled in them a love and respect for the Nine as their grandmother would have wanted. They also taught them the common tongue so that all could be heard and understood across the three new kingdoms. Out of respect for the ancient tongues, the kingdoms were named with them. Zehvi. Halmar and Baldor.”

I listened for a few moments more. Gifted story weavers were rare in the kingdoms, but my eagerness to explore got the better of me and I moved on.

I stepped around a group of young men and women playing dice on the dusty street and turned down an alley, passing the open doors of a pub or tearoom of some kind. Haunting strains of music beckoned from within, accompanied by a thick, cloying smell that made my nose itch. There were several patrons sprawled on the stoop as I passed. One appeared unconscious, while the other—face sallow and eyes red and bloodshot—knocked back a clear substance from a small dark vial. Almost instantly, the man’s whole posture relaxed, his eyes glazed, and a blissful smile stretched across his face.

I had no idea what kind of drug the man had just taken, and I didn’t want to know. Belatedly realizing the establishment must be a drug den of some kind, and wanting no part of it, I quickly made my way past the entrance and down the rest of the alley.

As I emerged from the alley and turned the corner, I nearly collided with a group of performers who were gathered there. I made to move away, but then one of them raised a flaming stick to his lips. Fire eaters , I realized, just as the performer spat something into the air and fire erupted outward. I was so close that the orange and red flames created a wall across my sight. It was all I could see. All I could feel.

The heat.

The crackling rush of air.

The scent of dragons and burning flesh.

The skin on my back tightened, and a horrible, desperate fear took root at the center of my chest.

The sudden proximity to the fire had surprised me, and now I couldn’t get my breath back. My vision began to tunnel and darken at the edges. There was a roaring in my ears.

With a gasp, I stumbled away, ignoring the concerned and confused expressions of some of the onlookers. Pressing one hand along the warm stone of the building beside me for support, I turned down the first street I came to as I fought to curb the panic in my chest and settle my breathing.

I emerged into a small garden of some kind enclosed by walls on three sides. I dropped down on one of the stone benches surrounding a small well in the center and took several deep breaths. I closed my eyes and pushed back the memories that fought to rise to the surface. The flames. The pain. It felt almost as fresh as it had then.

It took several long minutes before I finally felt like I could breathe again. I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings more fully. A few trees and plants added some color to the place, and it was surprisingly peaceful. Thankfully, I was alone in the small oasis, the sounds of the crowds a faint murmur in the distance, and I thanked the Nine for that. After a time, I felt something in my chest loosen.

A loud bout of laughter from farther off broke the quiet spell, and I decided I had lingered here too long as it was. My nerves had calmed, and I could breathe normally again. My eagerness to explore had dimmed. It was time I headed back to the palace.

As I moved through the city, I began to feel like I was being watched. It started as an itch between my shoulder blades, and I ignored it at first. But the feeling persisted, even after I glanced back several times and saw no one there.

When I finally snuck back into the gardens and climbed up the wall to my balcony, I dared to look back down, but the night was still and quiet around me.