Page 1 of Wild Flame

Chapter One

“Do you really want her to represent our kingdom to those barbarians? She isn’t a dragon rider. She has hardly any experience with politics and the girl is practically a mute.”

I halted just outside my father’s study when my mother’s familiar voice carried through the door. Her hissed words stopped me cold. I knew instantly she was speaking about me.

Unlike my father and sister, I wasn’t a dragon rider. My mother wasn’t one herself, but that didn’t stop her from despising me for it. In fact, she seemed to take it as a personal affront when I was presented year after year at the Nest and each time failed to bond with a dragon. She and my father had beamed with pride when Helene, my twin sister, bonded her dragon, but then stared on stone-faced when I hadn’t done the same.

Of course, my mother’s contempt might also be because I was the opposite of everything she thought a princess should be. I preferred my own company to large crowds and would rather sit curled by the fire with a good book than attend any kind ofgathering. Not that I wasn’t social or didn’t enjoy the company of others, but apart from Helene, people tended to ignore me. The court, and sometimes the entire kingdom of Halmar itself, seemed to have little use for me. I was the second born. The spare.The Forgotten Princesssome had labeled me.

I hated that nickname.

They acted as though I had committed some cardinal sin by not becoming a rider. As if it wasn’t extremely rare to bond with a dragon in the first place—especially recently.

For the past several years across Palasia, fewer and fewer dragons were answering The Call and claiming their riders. And no one knew why. This past year, Nevgard had only seen one new rider bond, while several other cities had had none. Across all of Halmar there had only been five new riders in total, the lowest number in a century.

Thoughts of Helene had me considering theotherand perhaps more likely reason my mother despised me so . . . namely that she had never forgiven me for the night I had nearly gotten Helene killed. The scars on my back twinged as if in reminder, and I forced my attention back to the present.

Barbarians,my mother had said.Who was she talking about?My mother thought anyone who wasn’t from Halmar, or who differed in any way from our staunch traditions wasuncivilized, so that didn’t really narrow down the list of possibilities much.

“Leida can handle herself,” my father contradicted my mother, confirming they were indeed discussing me. “And it’s not as if she will be negotiating our trade agreements with them.”

Frankly, my father displaying any confidence in me was surprising. After it became abundantly clear that I would never become a rider, my father had little use for me. We hardly saw each other, save for at mealtimes, and even then, he rarely spoke to me. He didn’t know me at all.

“Calder, you can’t be serious,” she protested. “Surely Helene would be a better choice.”

“I need Helene here. She is my heir.”

I wished I could simply walk away, but I knew I couldn’t. My father had summoned me, and I had to appear.

“Come in, Leida!” my father suddenly called. “Tarook can hear you breathing out there.”

Internally, I sighed. I should have known that my father’s dragon could sense me out here. Dragons had incredibly heightened senses. They were the most powerful magical creatures in our world. They lent their speed, strength, and healing abilities to their riders through the bond they shared. And it was through that bond that Tarook had no doubt alerted my father to my presence.

I took a steadying breath, bracing myself for the coming interaction. Ignoring the two stoic-faced guards stationed on either side of the door, I pushed it open, walking inside.

The room was stark and austere, with nothing adorning the stone walls save for some ancient weaponry and an even more ancient tapestry depicting a sea battle before the time of riders. A single large window cast early morning light about the room through which could be seen the capital port city of Nevgard below. I could just make out the ocean beyond and the many ships dotting the gray expanse. The window was partially open, and a wave of fresh sea air hit my nose as I closed the door behind me.

My father sat behind his large desk clad in his dark gray riding leathers. King Calder Ivar was a large man with a barrel chest and massive arms. His head was shaved except for a thick braid down the center which was tied at the back and twined with beaded talismans proclaiming his dedication to The Warrior. His tawny-brown beard was thick and wiry and partially braided as well, with a few touches of gray hinting at the first signs of age.

His silvery-gray dragon, Tarook, sat behind him on a thick metal bar, his eyes watching me as I entered. His minor form—comparable to that of a large dog—was bigger than most dragons, partly because he was male, but also because he was a much larger dragon in his natural form.

My mother, Queen Petra Ivar, stood beside my father’s desk. She wore a deep blue gown trimmed in silver fur that perfectly offset her auburn hair, so like my own, that was braided back from her face in the elaborate way she preferred. A silver belted chain hung low at her waist and from it dangled pearl-encrusted charms depicting a cluster of flowers, her talismans to The Maiden. Her beautiful face was a pinched stone mask as she regarded me.

“Father.” I dipped my head slightly to him then turned. “Mother.”

My mother didn’t acknowledge my greeting. “What took you so long?” she demanded. “When your father summons you, you are to respond immediately.”

Reaching into the pocket of my gown, I clutched the familiar smooth lines of my own talisman and stared back at her, refusing to show any emotion. “I was out walking in the gardens.” More like staring out over my favorite spot on the cliffs on the far side of the castle, but they didn’t need to know that. I would only be reprimanded for it. “My apologies for the delay.”

My father waved off my excuse. “It is unimportant. I have called you here for a reason, Leida. I have an opportunity for you.” He shot the queen a warning look.

“Opportunity?” I asked.

“King Nazeem has finally died. As you probably know, he had been sick for some time. My spies tell me his heart finally gave out. His funeral events are to be held in Taveran in two weeks’ time. You will attend as a representative of Halmar. You will also stay for the subsequent coronation.”

My eyes widened at the unexpected pronouncement. My father had never asked me to represent Halmar in any capacity before—let alone in another kingdom. It was usually Helene who did such things. She would be our ruler someday and was much better suited for official duties than I. “How long will I be—"

“Five weeks,” my father interrupted. “Not including the time it will take you to travel. So closer to two months.”

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