Page 103 of Wild Flame

Pulling my talisman free, I held it out toward him in my open palm. The stone was smooth and rectangular, but not perfectly so. The rock had a clear crystalline quality with veins of pink throughout, but at its heart, suspended inside, was a perfectly preserved delicate white flower.

“I know you’ve wondered about this,” I said. “Even though I’m sure you know of my kingdom’s tradition of carrying talismans representing our connection to the gods. Most of my people carry many. This is my only one. I had always felt an affinity towards The Maiden since I was a little girl. When I found this rock washed up on the shore one day, with the flower inside, it felt like a sign, and I have kept it ever since.” The white flower, known as a gypsy blossom, was one of the goddess’s many symbols.

“Leida.” Malik’s voice was still laced with anger, but it had lessened somewhat. “What does this have to do with—”

I flipped the stone over in my hand. Malik stopped speaking as he saw what lay on the talisman’s other side. For this side was not crystalline and beautiful, but charred and blackened by dragon fire. At its center sat the symbol of The Assassin, the linesof the fist clasping a bloody dagger were crude and simple, but clear.

“This happened the night I got my scars. When I told you about that night . . . I didn’t tell you everything.”

His eyes flared. He didn’t like that, but he simply ordered, “Explain.”

“I told you, Helene and Nova followed me that night. What I left out was that . . . Helene wasn’t just injured, she was dying and so was I. As I lay there on the ground, half over Helene’s burned body, I knew I would soon feel her last breath, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Helene, my sister, the only thing I loved in this world. So I prayed. I prayed and made a bargain with any of the gods that would listen. I promised that if they let her live, I would serve them in any way they saw fit. I blacked out for a time, thanks to my own injuries, and when I woke again Helene’s breathing had evened out, and I could already see that she was healing. I knew she would live and so would I. The gods had done their part. It wasn’t until I glanced over and saw my talisman laying not too far away and saw this symbol that I knew to which god I now owed my allegiance.”

Malik said nothing as I put the talisman back in my pocket and continued, “Nearly a year later, when I was somewhat recovered, I went to The Temple of Nine and told the high priest about my vow. I didn’t know it at the time, but he is the leader of The Order of Assassins. And he uses us—them—to carry out the dark god’s will. He’s the one who trained me—to fight, to kill.” I explained how my parents had known about the training for a time, though not its true purpose and not that it had continued even after we were ordered to stop. “Helene suspected something was going on, of course,” I told Malik. “But she was busy with rider training, and I never told her what truly happened that night. Nor what I had to do as a result.”

Malik hadn’t moved at all as I spoke, but at this demanded, “How old were you? When all this was going on . . . when you had your first kill? How old were you?”

“Why does that matter?”

“How old were you, Leida?”

His voice had sharpened, but I wasn’t completely sure it was really directed at me this time, so I answered, “Fifteen.”

“Realms, Leida,” he bit out. “You were a child.”

His comment reminded me of that night before the scorpion attack when he had made much the same observation. I shrugged. “That didn’t matter. Not to Silvanus, and not to me. I had a mission—a vow to fulfill.”

He closed his eyes, and his chest expanded as he inhaled. Azrun rumbled a growl, and I looked his way, but the beast’s gaze was on his rider.

Rushing to explain further, I admitted, “That night you found me on the roof . . . it was the anniversary. Ten years. Ten years since I—that I’ve been this.” I spread my hands to indicate what I wore.

Malik’s gaze met mine again, and this time something in it had changed. It was still hard as steel, but had also softened somehow. “What happened with Zara?” he asked, his voice much more subdued now.

Distantly, I registered that Azrun had left, but that wasn’t important right now. “With Zara,” I swallowed hard, “that—she was different. The job was off from the start . . .” I explained about everything that had happened that night, and didn’t leave anything out. “I was tormented about what I had done the rest of our trip to Taveran. I have never, not once, not fulfilled an assignment.” I shook my head. “Then I got here and met Zara, and I knew I couldn’t go through with it.”

His expression had shifted from anger to something else. “Leida—”

But I didn’t let him interrupt. The flood gates were well and truly open now. I gestured to him. “And then there’s you. You with your arrogant smirk and your big body and how sweet you are with Zara and the way you love your people. And you’re always in my space—the library and the garden, making me feel like . . . like I can’t breathe.” When had I started crying again? Had I ever stopped? “And the way you just—you saw me,” I finished lamely.

“Siren,” he tried again, stepping closer. “I, of all people, can understand doing something you hate because you feel you have no other choice. Or being moved by a misguided sense of duty. Why did you not just tell me? Come to me? Explain?”

I sighed. “Because I knew if I told you what I had done—what Iwas—you wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. You would never look at me with that fire in your eyes again. I was afraid . . . if you didn’t kill or imprison me, you would make me leave. I would have to return to Nevgard. And I can’t go back there, Malik. I can’t go back to that cold, unfeeling prison. Not after all this," I gestured around. “Not after you.”

Suddenly, his body was pressing into mine, and my back was against the nearest wall. His hand came up to hold my face, his eyes blazing down into mine. His tone was a mix of anger, frustration, and even exasperation as he growled, “You are not leaving. Ever. Do you hear me? You are my wife, my queen, and I never want to hear you say that again. You will always belong here.”

His fierce declaration brought more tears to my eyes. His gaze dropped to my mouth and my body suddenly came alive with need.

“Siren,” he growled, his eyes returning to mine. “Do you hear me?” The rumble in his chest made it rub against mine as he spoke.

I licked my lips, salty from my tears, and his eyes tracked the movement. “I hear you.”

He leaned close and his warm breath fanned against my thrumming pulse. “Good.”

For one taut second, neither of us moved.

Then his mouth was on mine.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

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