Page 40 of Wild Flame

He gave me a cajoling look and I rolled my eyes, deciding it might be best just to get it over with, before sitting at the woman’s little table. As I arranged my skirts, Malik paid thewoman and came to stand behind me. Azrun sat near his feet while the guards stationed themselves around us.

It was only then that I realized I recognized the woman.

“Forgive me, but are you also a story weaver?” I asked. I could have sworn she was the story weaver I had stopped to listen to the first night I snuck into the city.

She smiled and winked. “One of my many talents, my lady.”

I smiled back at her.

Malik muttered something from over my shoulder that sounded like, “Two in one day.”

Before I could ask him what he meant, the woman spoke.

“I’m guessing you have never done this before?” she surmised as she adjusted the red woven cloth in her graying curls. When I shook my head, she nodded. “Having your flames read on a Burning Night is one of the best times to do it,” she informed me. “More accurate when the gods are listening.”

I had no idea what that meant, but didn’t like the sound of it. In my experience, only bad things came of the gods being involved. All I said was, “I’m sure you’re right.”

She poured some oil into the pot before us, then lit it using flint to spark a flame. I took a steadying breath, trying not to flinch as the flames ignited. Once that was done, she gestured to nine small earthen bowls to one side of the table, each filled with a different colored powder. “Each contains bone dust from different magical creatures. Choose,” she ordered. “Then add a pinch to the flames.”

I instantly knew the different bowls represented each of the Nine gods. Predictably, the powder representing the three gods of light—The Warrior, The Maiden, and The Child—were all depleted, particularly The Warrior. Which was no surprise, considering he was the favored god nearly everywhere. The three bowls representing the gray gods had less missing, and the three dark gods were nearly untouched.

“Choose the one that speaks to you,” the woman repeated, watching me shrewdly. I ignored her flash of surprise when I grabbed a pinch of the dark-colored powder from The Assassin’s bowl and threw it in. I sensed Malik’s interest as well, but he didn’t say anything.

The fortune teller closed her eyes, then chanted a few words I couldn’t quite make out. There was a pause, and when she opened them again, her eyes had a strange quality to them. Not quite glazed over, but as she stared hard into the flames, it was as if she wasn’t truly seeing them any longer. She was seeing something else.

When she spoke, her voice had a haunting, almost breathy quality to it.

“I see a young girl and a bloody dagger. Loneliness and pain mark your past. A dragon and a flaming flower. Many choices and paths lie before you. Love and a new beginning, but also sorrow and uncertainty.”

I leaned closer to the flames, something I never thought I would do. But I was unable to see anything in them. I wondered about the validity of this practice. All the magic in Palasia was derived from either the land or its creatures. People had no innate magic of their own, which was why I questioned her ability to read the flames. Her use of the bone dust made it slightly more believable since it came from magical creatures, but I had always been skeptical of fortune tellers, mystics, and the like. It was most likely a simple parlor trick.

Only. . . there was a certain weight to the words that I couldn’t readily dismiss. And her eyes . . .

“Your future is harder to see . . .” she continued. “The images are shifting too quickly. Black and white stones, a scorpion, sailing ships, and storms. Battles and compromises. Betrayal and sacrifice. Secrets revealed and kept.”

The woman sucked in a deep gasp and blinked several times as her vision seemed to clear. When her gaze finally met mine again, she studied me with more interest.

“What does that all mean?” I asked. Everything she had said was all too vague and convoluted to make sense, only adding to my skepticism.

Her dark eyes flicked to Malik over my shoulder, then back to me before she answered. Her lips pursed. “Only you can determine that. But it would appear you are a study in contrasts. Many shifting forces are attempting to find balance in and around you. A change is coming, it would seem. Several changes, as the opposing images illustrate. Some in your control and some not. Everything has its opposite, after all. The gods always offer checks.”

My eyes darted unwittingly to Malik as I considered what she had said about love and a new beginning.

As we thanked the woman and left, Malik inquired, “What did you think?”

I shrugged, ignoring the chill down my spine as I replied, “It certainly gives one something to think about.”

Chapter Sixteen

As we moved away from the fortune teller, my mind raced with all she had said and what it could possibly mean.Everything has its opposite.For some reason, those words stuck with me most of all.

Something caught my eye across the street, and I glanced up to see Ramin and Sura and their daughter not too far away. Nalia was giggling as her father tossed her into the air, and Sura was watching them with a contented, loving smile that made my heart hurt. They waved when they saw us, and Malik waved back.

I took a step to continue walking, and a man nearly crashed into me. Luckily, one of Malik’s warriors stopped him before he could.

“’Cuse me, Your . . . Majesty.” He giggled, and the sound was slightly unhinged. “I didn’t see you there.” The man’s hair was unkempt, he was sweating profusely, and his eyes were a dark, watery red as he tottered on his feet.

“Move along!” the warrior growled, before thrusting him backward. The man nearly tripped on his own feet but managed to right himself before scurrying away.

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