Page 17 of Wild Flame

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 thethree 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 strainsof 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 benchessurrounding 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.

Chapter Seven

Imade 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 wascallused 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.

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