Page 2 of Wild Flame

My eyebrows rose. “Two months?”

He rubbed a hand over his beard. “Apparently, Zehvitian death rites involve several days of celebrations leading up to the funeral, but for a monarch, the festivities last nearly an entire month. They have delayed the start of the celebrations to allow time for those traveling to the capital. As it is, you should have just enough time to get there before they begin.”

“Celebrations?” I asked, again in confusion.At a funeral?I had been tutored in the history of our world, of course, but when it came to the customs of Zehvi, my training had been more focused on social and court protocol and the like. I had read several Zehvitian books, but admittedly those had been more the fairytales and romantic adventures. I loved immersing myself in the lush stories of the far away land and had gobbled up everything the castle library had on the subject—which hadn’t been much—before the age of twelve. So unfortunately, I knew little of their death rites. I would have to rectify that.

“The heathens believe in celebrating the life of the deceased rather than mourning their death,” my mother scoffed. “Supposedly, they even burn their dead and release them to the elements rather than bury them by land or sea. Backward wasteland rats,” she muttered.

I wanted to point out that some of our practices would most likely appear barbaric to them as well, but I knew better than to voice that thought.

“You leave tomorrow,” my father instructed, as if my mother hadn’t spoken. “Your maid has already been informed. I have assigned Leif to accompany you as well. I want at least one dragon rider in your party along with the contingent of guards.”

I fought not to show my pleasure and relief at his words. Leif and I had been friends since childhood. His father was a rider and one of my father’s closest advisors. There weren’t many children who lived in the castle, so when we were young, he had been pulled into Helene’s schemes and games right along with me. Then they had both bonded their dragons the same year, and though their rider training kept them busy, our trio had always tried to make time with each other over the years. I hadn’t seen much of him recently though since he and his dragon had been assigned to one of our southernmost cities. The thought of having him with me in Zehvi was reassuring.

“Ambassador Nilfren will be there as well, of course,” my father added, and I refocused on what he was saying. “He just returned from Zehvi not long ago and will escort you to Taveran.”

My heart sank at the mention of Ambassador Nilfren. He was one of the most self-righteous, power-hungry men I had ever known. I made a point of having as little to do with the nobleman as possible. I had been relieved when he had been made our ambassador to Zehvi several years ago and subsequently spent most of his time there rather than in Halmar.

“He will help you navigate the Zehvitian court, such as it is,” my father continued. “He is aware you know little of their customs. And you need to make a good impression on Prince—or rather, King Malik, as I suppose he will be soon.”

My heart leapt at the mention of the Crown Prince, but I immediately tried to temper my reaction. I had met Malik Kathar only once several years before when he came to our court. I had been eighteen at the time. I never spoke to himbeyond necessary greetings and such, but my impression of the prince was that he was intolerably arrogant, though admittedly charismatic and charming. He was also devastatingly attractive. And he knew it. Even though I was now in my twenty-fifth year, no doubt he still considered me as some naïve girl, if he thought of me at all. Not that I would have anything to prove to him when we met again, I told myself, even if he was soon to be king of the largest and richest kingdom in Palasia.

Of course, I said none of this to my parents. Instead, I replied, “Of course, Father. I will do my best.”

“You will do much better than your best,” my mother corrected coldly. “We can’t afford to have you be your normal wilting, petulant self. For once in your life, you will be useful and represent Halmar with some dignity.”

I had long since stopped looking to my mother for any kind of affection, prepared after all these years for the cool indifference. But I would be lying if I said the near disgust in her expression as she regarded me didn’t still sting.

“If you are so concerned with how I will conduct myself, why send me at all?” I asked, echoing what she had said earlier. “Why not Helene—"

“My reasoning does not concern you,” my father replied, giving me a sharp look.

I bit back my retort that this very much concerned me. My father hated it when I contradicted him, and my mother would likely scold me and tell me it was unladylike and that I didn’t get to have an opinion. So instead, I kept my face blank and locked my feelings down behind the familiar wall inside me. A wall that had become so thick and reinforced over the years that I wondered if it could ever be breached.

“Yes, Father.” I bowed my head, sensing Tarook’s disapproving stare on me. Dragons were incredibly intelligent, and while wild dragons couldn’t understand language as such,bonded dragons could through the bond they shared with their rider.

I did not have to be a dragon rider to know that Tarook was sharing in my father’s irritation.

“Petra, leave us,” my father suddenly ordered.

The pinched look on her face told me that my mother didn’t appreciate being dismissed in such a way, especially when this was a matter she felt should concern her, but she said nothing at his abrupt words. Instead, she turned her glare on me again as if this was my doing before she swept from the room.

When the door shut behind her, my father contemplated me for a moment in silence. Tarook regarded me as well from his perch behind the king. I had always been amazed at how still dragons could be when they wanted. His wings didn’t rustle, he didn’t shift his clawed feet, and I swore his eyes didn’t even blink. It was unnerving and no doubt intentional.

“There is something else,” my father said when he finally spoke. “Something I want you to do aside from attending the funeral rites and coronation.”

What could he possibly wish of me that my mother could not be privy to?

He continued staring at me for a long moment, before he finally clarified, “While you are in Zehvi, you are to get as close to Prince Malik as you can. In whatever way you can.”

“Get close to him?” He gave me a pointed look and I flushed.

“You aren’t a fool, Leida, and you are pretty enough. Be as charming as you are able. Put yourself in his path and get him to desire you.”

“To what purpose?” I finally inquired, trying to keep my tone level and not full of the sudden nerves that had assailed me as I considered what his possible motivations could be. Though I could guess. A marriage alliance was the only use my father would ever have for me.

“That is none of your concern, either,” he said again, and Tarook huffed behind him. “You will do as you are told and that is the end of it.” He gestured towards the door. “Now go. May The Warrior walk with you and The Maiden keep you safe on your travels.”

The last were the standard Halmarish words of parting. They sounded rote coming from his lips and not at all filled with the usual warmth that accompanied the farewell. I hesitated only a moment, my thoughts and feelings a jumbled mess, before I turned to go.

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