Page 19 of Wild Flame

“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 forthem 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 weremanythings 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’tnotspeak. “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 reallybelieve 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—washis 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 turneverythinginto 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.

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