Page 20 of Wild Flame

When we reached the training yard—a large outside courtyard with sand underfoot rather than stone—a tall, leanly muscled man was waiting for us. This had to be Ramin, Zara’s weapons instructor and a member of the Fangdar.

A male dragon whose scales were a shocking mixture of bright yellow and darkest black lay sprawled in his natural form on the opposite side of the space. His eyes tracked us as we approached. He was moderately sized for a male, but the deadly spikes along his back were still nearly the size of short spears. Zara introduced him as Sekar, and I bowed my head low to the dragon before turning to his rider.

Ramin nodded respectfully to me when Zara introduced us, and I did the same in return. His face gave away nothing of his thoughts about seeing me with his princess. He held a practice sword and motioned for Zara to join him on the sand without a word. I was reminded of what Zara had said to Sura about her husband, and how he wasn’t a man of many words. She obviously hadn’t been exaggerating.

I had intended to leave once we arrived, but as Zara said her goodbyes to me and I stepped to the side, I couldn’t help but watch as the two began sparring. Mesmera had fluttered to theground and seemed content to sit beside me and watch. Zara had skill, but even I could tell she had no patience. She was too eager and always rushed into her attacks, taking any opening Ramin gave her. As a result, she often didn’t see the opening for what it was—a trap. Ramin, on the other hand, was an exceptional swordsman and a competent teacher. He was firm with Zara, but not unkind when dolling out his critiques.

I couldn’t help but compare this training session to the hundreds I had had with Silvanus over the years. Those had always been brutal sessions where any weakness I had shown was drilled out of me with cruel efficiency. The difference between that and this was worlds apart.

“Feint left!” I called out. Zara immediately did as I suggested and nearly scored a hit, but Ramin still blocked it in time.

Zara’s triumphant grin was huge as the two finally paused for a break and came over to where I stood. They both drank some water from a pitcher a servant had left on a side table for them.

“You have some knowledge of swordplay,” Ramin observed. “Do you have any training?”

I shrugged. “My father allowed me to train for several years when I was younger in order to help heal an injury.” The statement was true enough. They didn’t need to know who exactly trained me or why. Let them think it was some master at arms in my father’s service.

Zara eyed me, then held out her sparring sword with a wide grin. “Care to show me how it’s done?”

I blinked in surprise. “No, thank you.” I gestured to myself. “I’m not dressed for—”

“Come on, Leida,” Zara said, her smile altogether too friendly and disarming. “Please!” Zara winked and practically shoved the sword into my hand.

Unable to deny her, I sighed. “Fine. But if I ruin this dress, I’m going to send my maid to lectureyouabout it.”

Ramin didn’t smile, but I did see his lip twitch as he and I moved to the center of the courtyard and faced each other. Zara remained where she was, looking on eagerly with Mesmera back on her shoulder.

Ramin struck first, a swipe which I easily dodged. I countered, and he sidestepped. We traded several tentative blows as we sized each other up and I got used to the unfamiliar feel of the sand under my feet. It also felt strange to be fighting with one of the sai blades Zehvitians preferred, even if it was a dull practice sword. It handled differently than I was expecting. The weight of the curved blade was heavier than I was used to and changed depending on which direction I turned it to slash, block, or thrust.

I knew Ramin was holding back, which wasn’t surprising, but then so was I.

Eventually, when he must have decided I wasn’t completely inept, Ramin quickened the pace of his lunges and swings and truly put me on the defensive.

I had initially intended not to show the full extent of my skill, but after several minutes of sparring, I realized how much I had missed the physical exertion of training, of pitting my skill against another, and decided not to hold back.Why should it matter if they knew I was skilled?It wasn’t as if I would be any true challenge for Ramin.

Zara yelled out encouragement as we fought, and cheered when I finally managed to land a blow—a glancing one, but still a hit—to Ramin’s thigh. I was sweating profusely by this point, not used to training in the heat, or in a long-sleeved gown for that matter. But even despite that, I couldn’t keep the exhilarated smile from my face.

“Well done, Your Highness,” Ramin praised with a nod.

Zara came up beside me as I leaned on my sword, catching my breath.

Ramin handed Zara his practice sword. She grasped it and he gestured to me. “Your turn.”

The protest I had ready died on my lips when I saw the excitement dancing in Zara’s eyes. “Please, Leida? Please?”

I sighed again. It looked like I wouldn’t be changing out of this dress after all.

Chapter Eight

As I pushed open the large double doors to the library a few nights later, I had to hold in my gasp as I took it in. The high ceiling above was at least three stories tall, and the walls were filled with shelves and shelves of books. Curved stairs off to one side led up to the higher floors. Desks and chairs of dark wood and elaborate scrollwork designs were scattered amidst the shelves. Large windows let in faint moonlight. Though glass-covered lanterns had been lit around the space, they had to work hard to dispel the shadows.

The scent of dust and aged parchment hit my nose, and it felt like coming home as I stepped inside. It always amazed me that no matter where you were in the world, a library—and books—always smelled the same. I found comfort in that.

I motioned at the two guards trailing me to stay by the doors. The quiet around me was absolute, save for my footsteps as they echoed on the stone floor. No one else was about that I could see, and I was grateful.

Running my fingers along the spines of the books on the nearest shelf, I scanned the titles. Almost all were written in thecommon tongue, only a few I spotted on higher shelves were in ancient Zehvitian. These all appeared to be encyclopedic texts having to do with flora and fauna, so I made my way further into the stacks. I wandered for a time with no real direction in mind, random titles catching my eye,A History of Queen Lethara’s Reign, A Collection of Fanciful Tales, and an entire section dedicated to dragon anatomy. Eventually, I came across a book entitledTales of Forbidden Love & Love Lost.

Pulling out the old tome bound in red leather with faded gold lettering, I quickly realized that it was a collection of romantic Zehvitian tales. I decided to find somewhere to settle in to read.

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