Page 30 of Wild Flame

I turned and headed for the door, but before I reached it, his quiet words stopped me.

“Leida, wait.”

I turned to face him as he strode forward and stopped before me. To my surprise, he grasped my hand in his and brought it to his lips, and kissed it softly.

“Thank you,” he murmured, emotion blazing in his eyes as he lowered my hand. “Thank you for protecting Zara when I could not.”

I opened my mouth to say something trite like ‘It was nothing’, but then stopped myself. It obviously wasn’t nothing. But the guilt was eating me alive. So instead, I finally settled on, “You’re welcome.”

Chapter Twelve

As I made my way out into the city the following night, I couldn’t help but feel again like I was being watched. But every time I looked around, I couldn’t see anything suspicious amongst the revelers. Part of me wondered why I had even bothered sneaking out this time since Malik already knew—not that I had been doing it to avoid him specifically, but . . . But the thought of having my guards trailing my every move and potentially reporting my visit back to my father or my mother or Leif . . . It all just sounded exhausting. I would be fine on my own and would only be gone for a few hours. No one would be the wiser.

Shrugging off the feeling of being watched, I made my way to the small theater where a particular performance I had wanted to see was taking place. It was a lighthearted play that I had heard some people discussing a few nights before. When I arrived, it was standing room only, so I found a place towards the back to watch. The show got underway, and I had only been enjoying it for a few minutes when a familiar voice spoke behind me.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

I turned in shock to find Malik standing close at my back.

“What are you doing here?” I hissed.

“I followed you,” he admitted with a grin.

I guess I now knew who had been watching me.

His clothing was nondescript, though still of fine make. A swath of fabric had been pulled up over his head, much like the cowl of a cloak, the sides trailing back over either shoulder. If you weren’t looking too closely, the man before me could pass for an average, though wealthy, Zehvitian. No one would have any idea their prince was among them. And the look worked for him, emphasizing his sharp cheekbones and darkly masculine features. The man was a chameleon—one of the fascinating creatures that could change its appearance at will that I had first seen in one of these very markets—changing his clothing and adapting his persona to fit any situation.

“Where is your dragon?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice down so as to not interrupt the performance.

“Nearby.” The crowd pressed close in the small space, and he was now so close he was nearly molded to my back. “It would be hard for me to truly enjoy the delights of the city with Azrun dogging my heels, letting every passerby know my identity. He is quite hard to conceal.”

“Don’t want your people to see you out amongst them?”

“Not at all,” he replied. “But I wanted to follow you and finally see where you sneak off to every night. I could hardly do that with a contingent of guards or the eyes of my people constantly on me, now could I?”

“You could just mind your own affairs and leave me be,” I offered.

“Oh, but I so enjoy seeing you all flustered and watching that furrow appear between your brows.” He made to touch it, and I waved his hand away with a scowl. That infuriating grinwidened. Then, after a moment, he said, “Does that friend of yours that doubles as a statue know you’re here?”

I glared at him. “His name is Leif, which you very well know, and he’s not a statue,” I protested.

“He is,” Malik argued. “He’s large, silent, and has the personality of a rock. So . . . a statue.”

“He does not have—ugh,” I bit back my response and turned away, refusing to be drawn in by another one of his baiting comments.

He made a noise that was a mixture between a scoff and a chuckle that rumbled against my back. I pretended to ignore him and watch the performance.

He flashed me a skeptical look I caught out of the corner of my eye. “He’s in love with you, you know.”

Surprise lit through me at his ridiculous statement, quickly followed by disbelief. I turned to glare at him. “Leif is not in love with me,” I stated emphatically. “Why would you ever think such a thing?”

He just looked at me. “Because it’s the truth. Anyone can see it. Any man, anyway. He wants you. And I would vow to the Nine themselves that the only reason he hasn’t acted on it is because you are his king’s daughter.”

“You’re wrong,” I said vehemently. But even as I denied it, I thought back on my interactions with Leif over the years and especially since coming to Zehvi. Lingering looks I had dismissed, or at least seen in a different light until now, things he had done—said . . . No. I refused to believe it. Leif didn’t see me as anything other than his princess and friend. Nothing more.

“I’m not wrong,” Malik replied, that familiar arrogance making an appearance once again. “You may not want to see it right now, but it is the truth.” He shrugged, his eyes returning to the performers on stage. “Though it makes no difference. He won’t be an obstacle, no matter how he feels.”

I stared at his handsome profile, trying my best to ignore the sandalwood and amber scent of him. “And what is that supposed to mean?” I demanded, trying to keep my voice quiet after someone shot me a disgruntled look. “Obstacle to what?”

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