Page 7 of Wild Flame (Wild Bond #2)

Chapter Seven

I made a small cut on my hand with the dagger I held, and let the few crimson drops fall to the dark stone at my feet. It was a simple offering, but being one of the Dark Gods, blood spilt in some form or another was all The Assassin wanted from his followers.

I looked up at the statue before me for a moment, taking in the hooded figure clutching a knife. You couldn’t make out his features, but that was the way most of the Nine were often depicted; having their faces concealed in some manner. Except for The Maiden, The Warrior, and the Child—the three Gods of Light were always depicted with faces.

I was alone in the small temple, save for Leif, who waited silently at the entrance for me, his dragon at his feet. Not that I had expected anything less. Despite the lack of patrons, The Assassin’s temple was kept in pristine condition. It would not do to have one of the Dark Ones take offense and curse the city. In fact, all major cities across Palasia had at least one temple dedicated to each of the Nine. Some were just more popular than others.

It was not often the Dark Gods had worshipers visit them, not unless you wished dark designs carried out in some way. Or, in my case, it had been my practice to leave an offering for the Dark God ever since Silvanus completed my training to his satisfaction. I usually did it before an assignment, but there hadn’t been time before we left Nevgard. And today was the first time since arriving that I had been able to leave the palace, at least during the light of day, and make my way to the temple. I asked the god’s forgiveness for not completing my task and fought my inner turmoil at the thought of actually carrying it out. I knew I couldn’t kill Princess Zara and, by extension, her sweet violet dragon. It made me sick to think about.

Silvanus no doubt knew by now that I had not carried out my assignment. I didn’t think he would go so far as to kill me, but there would be hell to pay when I returned to Halmar. And he would likely send someone else after Zara . . . short of admitting what I was and outing the entire Order, I wasn’t sure how to warn her.

Pulling my talisman from my pocket, I stared down at the small stone. One side was blackened by dragon fire and emblazoned with The Assassin’s symbol. The other was clear stone swirled with a pinkish hue—a tiny white flower caught within its depths. The symbol of The Maiden. I clutched it tightly in my fist before placing it back in my pocket.

Bowing my head, I turned from the statue and held pressure on the small cut with my other hand as I walked down the narrow aisle between pews.

When I reached Leif, he surprised me by gesturing at my bleeding hand. “Let me see.”

I extended my hand after only a slight hesitation. “It’s nothing.”

A grunt was his only response as he pulled a cloth from his pocket and pressed it to the wound. His much larger hand was callused and completely engulfed mine. I peered up at him and saw his eyes were on my face, his expression one I had never seen before.

The gentleness in it was unsettling.

Pulling my hand away, I gave him a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Thankfully the gentle look vanished and his brow quirked. “I’m not going to even bother asking why you just made an offering to one of the Dark Gods.”

“Good,” I replied, “because I wouldn’t answer you even if you did.”

His lip twitched at my snippy response, but then his expression sobered. “I know you trained with the High Priest for a while when we were younger, but I thought your patron god was The Ma—”

“My faith is my own,” I said, cutting him off. “I don’t feel the need to announce it for all to see, as you well know.”

I eyed The Warrior talisman woven into the end of his braid as I said this.

He stared down at me and nodded. “My apologies, Princess. I did not mean to offend you.”

The formality of the title grated, and I touched his arm. “I’m sorry,” I apologized, my shoulders sagging. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. I didn’t sleep well and I’m tired. I warned you this morning when you offered to come out with me that I would be poor company.”

His soft smile returned. “That you did. I forgot how surly you are in the morning.”

I shot him a look, and he chuckled. “Helene was always the morning person,” I admitted.

“I prefer the surly ones.” He winked at me. “There's something seriously wrong with people that can be that chipper when the sun’s barely up.”

As I shook my head at him, he pushed the door open for me and we stepped back out onto the street. The two guards that had accompanied us waited just outside and straightened as we emerged.

We had only taken a few steps away from the temple portico when a somewhat familiar voice spoke from behind me.

“Is it common practice in Halmar to worship The Assassin?”

I spun to see Prince Amir standing there. He wore his dark hair slicked back and had a smirking expression. His dragon wasn’t with him, and I found it odd that no guards flanked him, either.

“Not particularly, Your Highness,” I replied carefully.

He acknowledged Leif and his dragon with a nod, and then continued. “I have to admit, I find it intriguing to find a member of the royal family at a Dark God’s temple.”

“I could make the same observation of you,” I pointed out. “But if you must know, I simply find it good practice to pay my respects to all the Nine. I’d prefer not to have any of their eyes fixed on me for any length of time if I can help it.”

“Sensible of you,” he noted dryly, as if he did not quite accept my excuse. “Unlike you, I am in the city for a much less pious reason, I’m afraid.”

When he didn’t elaborate, I merely raised a brow in question.

“I’m simply trying to avoid my duties at the palace.” He sighed, twirling a small ring on his finger. “I grow weary of the endless meetings and presentations. Not to mention all the bowing and simpering from those of lesser standing. It grows tiresome. I decided to leave that to my dutiful elder brother for the day.”

He did not entirely mask his contempt as he mentioned Malik, which I found interesting. And contrary to his claim, I had gotten the impression since being here that this prince actually rather enjoyed being bowed and simpered to , as he called it.

I was saved from replying when Astrid of all people materialized out of the crowd on the street and came striding up to me. She bobbed a curtsy to first me and Leif, then to Prince Amir.

“My lady. Your Highness. My apologies for the interruption, but Hilde sent me to find you.”

“What is it, Astrid? Is something wrong?” I asked.

The poor girl’s eyes widened and her cheeks pinkened. “Oh, no—no, of course not. Princess Zara came looking for you. She wishes to speak with you.”

Surprise colored my tone as I responded, “Very well. You can accompany us back to the palace.”

Astrid smiled brightly and nodded. She was rather pretty when she smiled and let her shyness and reservations fall away. “Very good, my lady.”

I turned and made my excuses to the prince beside me, noting that Amir was giving Astrid a rather appraising look.

“Enjoy your time with my sister,” Amir said. And with a nod and another glance at Astrid, he was gone.

I had scarcely made it back to my room before there was a knock on the door. One of the guards outside informed me who it was, and I moved to the door to find Princess Zara standing there dressed in riding leathers. Mesmera was perched primly on her shoulder. The tiny dragon’s scales gleamed in the light from one of the many open windows along the corridor.

“Zara,” I said in surprise. “I was just coming to find you.” I had intended to see properly to the cut on my hand first, but I guessed that would have to wait.

She smiled broadly at me. “Well, now you have. I came to ask if you would like to go for a walk. I have training on the practice fields in a little bit, and I was wondering if you might like to accompany me.”

Surprise coursed through me, followed by a dawning flash of warmth. “I would like that.”

If possible, her smile got even brighter. “Excellent.”

I stepped out into the hall and closed my door.

“This way.” She gestured, and I matched pace beside her. Her guards, whom I hadn’t noticed until now, and mine, fell in line a few feet behind us. “Oh, I’m so glad you said yes. I was worried you wouldn’t. After all, if we’re going to be friends, we should talk and get to know each other better. Don’t you think?”

I fought to keep the rare smile from my face. “Is that what we are going to be, then?” I asked. “Friends?”

Zara’s lively expression fell, and I thought I might have caught a flash of hurt in her eyes. “Unless—unless you don’t want to be,” she faltered. “I’m sorry. I’m sure you’re busy. I shouldn’t have assumed—"

“No, I think I should like to have a friend.” I paused. “I’ve never had a friend before . . . well, other than my sister,” I added, when I saw the look of pure astonishment on her face.

“Never?”

I shook my head, deciding I might as well answer honestly. “My mother rarely let me leave the castle grounds. And the women of the court were mostly indifferent to my presence.”

Zara’s brows pinched, and she frowned. “Why wouldn’t they want to have anything to do with you? You’re lovely, and a princess besides. Surely—"

“Oh, no one was ever outright rude to me, thanks to my position, but none of the interactions ever felt genuine, either.” Zara nodded in understanding. “Though I tend to be content with my own company and I suppose I didn’t make it easy for them to get to know me.” I smiled faintly. “The few ladies who showed any interest in forming friendships over the years were quickly dissuaded by my mother, anyway.”

“I’m sorry, Leida,” Zara said, and I could tell she truly meant it.

“Don’t be,” I replied, my tone light. “I’m used to it.” Desperate to change the subject, I added, “I’m actually glad you invited me out today.” I cleared my throat. “I wanted to apologize.”

She shot me a look. “Whatever for?”

I stared off toward the sunny courtyard we were walking past, thinking there were many things I needed to apologize for, but few I could tell her about. The cut on my hand stung as I answered, “I never apologized for that day in the throne room. My comment about your father’s passing. I did not mean to offend—"

She put her hand on my arm. “No, Leida, please don’t apologize. Not for that. You were only doing what is customary in your land.” She lowered her hand and began fidgeting with the leather cuff at her wrist as we walked. Her brow pinched, inadvertently reminding me very much of her older brother. “To tell you the truth . . . it was rather nice . . . and refreshing for someone to acknowledge the pain my father’s absence has caused. Don’t mistake me, I love that we celebrate the life that he lived and the successes of his reign . . . but I miss him terribly, and sometimes it feels like to mourn him would be to betray my people in some way.”

I wasn’t sure what to say, but felt like I couldn’t not speak. “Zara, you are allowed to mourn your father. That is a completely natural response, and it is a betrayal to no one. You can celebrate his life and mourn his death, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with that.”

Our steps halted as she paused to glance at me, and the look in her eyes was both pained and hopeful at once. “You really believe that?” she asked earnestly. I nodded, but her shoulders still slumped. “I’ve tried to talk to my mother about it, but it’s hard . . . I think she is grieving too but she won’t admit it. And neither of my brothers seem to miss him. Amir, well, he always seems to be gone these days. And Malik . . . After father died, Malik just continued on like nothing had happened. He’s so strong. Nothing ever seems to faze him. I wish I were more like that.”

She wasn’t, though. This girl wore her emotions on her sleeve, clear for all to see.

“Have you tried talking to him about it?” I asked. I wasn’t exactly a paragon of wisdom when it came to family relationships, but bottling up emotions was never good. And yes, I was very aware of how hypocritical I was being in this moment. I had a veritable vault of unspoken words and suppressed emotions boarded up inside me that I never let see the light of day. So, I guess in an odd way, it sort of made me an expert on the subject.

Zara shrugged. “I tried talking about it at first, but Malik and father . . . their relationship was complicated. They often butted heads. Malik is strong-willed, and father pushed him . . .” She sighed. “Father was different with me. I’m his— was his only daughter.”

After a moment, I surprised myself by saying, “Malik is your brother, and if you tell him how you feel, he will listen.” I wasn’t altogether sure where this advice was coming from—I didn’t know Malik well at all—but I knew I believed what I was saying. Zara was young, still a child in some ways, and she was grieving and desperate for someone to connect with. She needed her family. And like me, she had a sibling whom I believed had her best interests at heart and who loved her dearly. I had seen it in his eyes every time they interacted in the banquet hall.

She smiled softly at me, and if I wasn’t mistaken, her eyes were shining with wetness. Neither of us commented on it though, and she simply nodded. “I will talk to him.”

We turned to start walking again. “I do think my kingdom could learn a thing or two from Zehvitians about how to throw a party, though,” I mused. “We Halmarish may mourn our dead, but we can be altogether too solemn sometimes.”

Zara grinned. “And Zehvitians could probably try and learn not to turn everything into a party.”

I smiled back at her. “Perhaps the answer is somewhere in the middle.” She laughed in agreement as she wove her arm through mine.

When we reached the training yard—a large outside courtyard with sand underfoot rather than stone—a tall, leanly muscled man was waiting for us. This had to be Ramin, Zara’s weapons instructor and a member of the Fangdar.

A male dragon whose scales were a shocking mixture of bright yellow and darkest black lay sprawled in his natural form on the opposite side of the space. His eyes tracked us as we approached. He was moderately sized for a male, but the deadly spikes along his back were still nearly the size of short spears. Zara introduced him as Sekar, and I bowed my head low to the dragon before turning to his rider.

Ramin nodded respectfully to me when Zara introduced us, and I did the same in return. His face gave away nothing of his thoughts about seeing me with his princess. He held a practice sword and motioned for Zara to join him on the sand without a word. I was reminded of what Zara had said to Sura about her husband, and how he wasn’t a man of many words. She obviously hadn’t been exaggerating.

I had intended to leave once we arrived, but as Zara said her goodbyes to me and I stepped to the side, I couldn’t help but watch as the two began sparring. Mesmera had fluttered to the ground and seemed content to sit beside me and watch. Zara had skill, but even I could tell she had no patience. She was too eager and always rushed into her attacks, taking any opening Ramin gave her. As a result, she often didn’t see the opening for what it was—a trap. Ramin, on the other hand, was an exceptional swordsman and a competent teacher. He was firm with Zara, but not unkind when dolling out his critiques.

I couldn’t help but compare this training session to the hundreds I had had with Silvanus over the years. Those had always been brutal sessions where any weakness I had shown was drilled out of me with cruel efficiency. The difference between that and this was worlds apart.

“Feint left!” I called out. Zara immediately did as I suggested and nearly scored a hit, but Ramin still blocked it in time.

Zara’s triumphant grin was huge as the two finally paused for a break and came over to where I stood. They both drank some water from a pitcher a servant had left on a side table for them.

“You have some knowledge of swordplay,” Ramin observed. “Do you have any training?”

I shrugged. “My father allowed me to train for several years when I was younger in order to help heal an injury.” The statement was true enough. They didn’t need to know who exactly trained me or why. Let them think it was some master at arms in my father’s service.

Zara eyed me, then held out her sparring sword with a wide grin. “Care to show me how it’s done?”

I blinked in surprise. “No, thank you.” I gestured to myself. “I’m not dressed for—”

“Come on, Leida,” Zara said, her smile altogether too friendly and disarming. “Please!” Zara winked and practically shoved the sword into my hand.

Unable to deny her, I sighed. “Fine. But if I ruin this dress, I’m going to send my maid to lecture you about it.”

Ramin didn’t smile, but I did see his lip twitch as he and I moved to the center of the courtyard and faced each other. Zara remained where she was, looking on eagerly with Mesmera back on her shoulder.

Ramin struck first, a swipe which I easily dodged. I countered, and he sidestepped. We traded several tentative blows as we sized each other up and I got used to the unfamiliar feel of the sand under my feet. It also felt strange to be fighting with one of the sai blades Zehvitians preferred, even if it was a dull practice sword. It handled differently than I was expecting. The weight of the curved blade was heavier than I was used to and changed depending on which direction I turned it to slash, block, or thrust.

I knew Ramin was holding back, which wasn’t surprising, but then so was I.

Eventually, when he must have decided I wasn’t completely inept, Ramin quickened the pace of his lunges and swings and truly put me on the defensive.

I had initially intended not to show the full extent of my skill, but after several minutes of sparring, I realized how much I had missed the physical exertion of training, of pitting my skill against another, and decided not to hold back. Why should it matter if they knew I was skilled? It wasn’t as if I would be any true challenge for Ramin.

Zara yelled out encouragement as we fought, and cheered when I finally managed to land a blow—a glancing one, but still a hit—to Ramin’s thigh. I was sweating profusely by this point, not used to training in the heat, or in a long-sleeved gown for that matter. But even despite that, I couldn’t keep the exhilarated smile from my face.

“Well done, Your Highness,” Ramin praised with a nod.

Zara came up beside me as I leaned on my sword, catching my breath.

Ramin handed Zara his practice sword. She grasped it and he gestured to me. “Your turn.”

The protest I had ready died on my lips when I saw the excitement dancing in Zara’s eyes. “Please, Leida? Please?”

I sighed again. It looked like I wouldn’t be changing out of this dress after all.