Page 24 of Wild Flame

I glanced at him. “Yes, well . . . I’m here to foster good relationships with Zehvi. Am I not?” Not that I had been doing a very good job of it so far. I hadn’t really been trying to get close to Malik like my father wanted. I wanted no part in whatever political game he was playing, so I was dragging my feet.

Leif’s eyes gleamed, and I could have sworn his mouth quirked ever so slightly, but he didn’t call me on the lie. He simply nodded. But then he murmured, “You know you are allowed to make friends, Leida.” I glanced up at him and he smiled. “Other than myself and your sister, I mean.”

I rolled my eyes at him as a Zehvitian rider I didn’t recognize moved to Leif and began to engage him in conversation.

Turning back to face the hall, I noted that the dancers had moved off to the side and a man and woman now stood on a small platform that had been erected in the center of the space. The woman began to sing an achingly beautiful ballad about a lost love, and I closed my eyes, allowing myself to get lost in the music.

I had always adored music. As a little girl, I would sneak down to the great hall after the nursemaid had already put me in bed in order to hear whatever performer my father had gained for the entertainment that night. I had always been small and good at hiding, even back then, and so it was easy enough to find a spot near the back of the hall to hide and listen and watch. My favorite had always been when my father allowed bards to sing about the old tales. I loved hearing stories about our ancient seafaring ancestors and the warring clans, or the tales of Queen Lethara.

I never cared if the tales were sad or happy. I loved them all, and I loved the music that accompanied them. It was what had first inspired me to sing songs of my own.

A presence came to stand beside me. I didn’t have to glance over to know who it was before he spoke.

“She has a lovely voice,” Malik murmured. “Though it pales in comparison to yours.”

I opened my eyes and glanced at him. “Hardly. You, my lord, have had too much wine.”

Without taking his eyes off me, he nodded towards the performers. “I should like to see you up there, enchanting the room with your siren song.”

I rolled my eyes—I was doing that a lot tonight—and took a sip of my own wine. “As I told you before, I don’t perform for others. The only person who has ever heard me sing is my sister.”

“And me,” he murmured conspiratorially.

His eyes danced as I stared up at him, and I tried to ignore the small flutter in my stomach as I conceded, “And you.”

His lip twitched. “Will you sing something for me, siren?” he asked. “Not here. Not today. But someday?”

“No,” I said, the word coming out slightly breathless.

He cocked an eyebrow. “You would refuse a king?”

I glared at him. “You are not king yet. And you are not my king.” My reply only seemed to amuse him more. “Why should you want to hear me sing, anyway?”

He studied me, and when his answer came, it was not what I expected. “Because you have the voice of an angel, and I want to hear it again.” A simple answer. Said with none of the teasing calculation or charm I was coming to expect from him. Truth rang in every word.

It was . . .disarming.

“Will you sing for me?” he persisted. “Someday?”

Something in my chest tightened. The feeling was entirely unsettling. “No,” I finally said softly. “No, I will not.”

He smiled, and it was knowing. He held my stare. “We’ll see.”

Wanting to get some distance from that look in Malik’s eyes, I glanced away. But my gaze then fell on Salim and Priya, who stood across from us on the other side of the hall. They were staring boldly at Malik and me, Salim glaring daggers at me and Priya with a sour look she quickly masked when our stares collided.

It was also at that moment that I could feel the tension coming from Leif on my other side. He had obviously finished his conversation with the rider he had been speaking to and I felt embarrassment creep in that he might have heard some of my conversation with Malik.

Malik’s eyes were still on me as well, and I was scrambling for something to say when an enraged shout interrupted the performance, and everyone in the hall turned to see the cause.

Prince Amir.

He was obviously drunk and was yelling at Ambassador Nilfren, pushing the other man away from him.

Malik tensed beside me and gestured to a few of the guards. But in the next second, Amir’s dragon shifted to his natural form, smashing several tables and knocking over one filled with refreshments in the process. Virath snarled down at a now terrified looking Nilfren.

Several nobles screamed and scrambled back, nearly being crushed by the dragon’s massive bulk. One man was swept off his feet by the dragon’s long tail. The hall was large enough to accommodate several dragons in their natural forms, but not when it was full of people. Many of the dragons in their minor forms were hissing and snapping in agitation, adding to the rising din.

“Step back!” Malik commanded. Members of the Fangdar and several other riders began to clear the hall, ordering people out or to the edges of the room.

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