Page 45 of Wild Flame

Chapter Seventeen

Hours later, I was being escorted by two of my guards and two warriors to a portion of the palace I had never been to before. My hair was still damp from the bath I had taken to wash off all the soot and grime from the night’s events. I grasped the skirts of the pale pink dress I wore as we took the winding stairs up to one of the palace’s many towering turrets.

After Malik and Azrun had subdued Sekar, other riders had begun arriving to help. My guards and a few of Malik’s warriors—including the warrior who had helped me, and whose name I had learned was Selasi—had escorted me from the roof and back to the palace, while Malik dealt with the aftermath of the attack. Selasi had informed me the child had been returned to his mother, who had been injured in the attack and unable to get to him.

When we arrived back at my room, a healer was already waiting in the hall to look at my hand. He was an older, balding man with kind eyes.

“Prince Malik sent a message that you were in need of my services,” he explained. I had no idea when Malik had had time to send for him, let alone even notice that I was hurt.

“We will leave you now, Your Highness,” Selasi said.

I nodded, but before they took their leave, the two men put a single closed fist to their chests, over their hearts, and bowed their heads. The gesture was not one I had ever seen before, but I felt the weight of it as it was directed at me. When they finally lifted their heads, all I could do was nod at them once more, oddly touched as they took their leave.

My two guards had stationed themselves in their usual spots on either side of my door, and besides them, the healer and I were alone in the hall.

He must have seen the question on my face because as I met his gaze, he said, “The Sign of The Warrior.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“That salute is called The Sign of The Warrior and can only be given from one warrior to another. It is rarely used, but is a gesture of deep respect among our people.” His kind eyes sparkled as they studied me anew. “You must have done something truly exceptional tonight.”

I shook my head as a fierce blush filled my cheeks. “Nothing that anyone else wouldn’t have done.”

His cheek wrinkled further as he smiled. “I highly doubt that, Highness.” Thankfully he didn’t linger too long on the topic and gestured inside. “Shall we?”

The healer applied a salve with magical properties to my burned hand that diminished the pain significantly and turned the blistering, angry skin from a bright red to a more muted shade. Then he carefully bandaged it and explained that if I reapplied the salve twice a day, my hand should be good as new in a week. The news stunned me. My mother hadn’t allowed the healers to apply such mixtures to my skin when my back wasburned. She had wanted to teach me a lesson. If I had known such remedies existed . . .

As we alighted in the corridor at the top of the stairs, the warriors escorting us halted, so I did as well. Malik stood several paces down the hall from us, and it was clear that—unlike me—he hadn’t had time to bathe and change. He still wore the same pants from earlier, though someone had given him a tunic to cover his bare chest.

Azrun stood vigilantly at his side as Malik stood with his arms crossed and listened attentively while Tajan spoke to him. I couldn’t help thinking how kingly he looked as he stood there. That thought led me to wonder once again why he sent for me when he was in the middle of handling a crisis. Surely whatever reason he had for wanting to see me could wait for another time.

I was about to say as much to the guards when Malik looked over and saw me. He murmured something to Tajan, then came over to me. The guards around me melted away at his approach, giving us privacy.

He stopped in front of me. Awareness flooded my body at his sudden proximity, and I couldn’t help remembering our kiss by the bonfire. Then I got a good look at him, noticing the weight evident in his posture, the hint of resigned sadness in his eyes. He was obviously suffering. One of his most trusted men—a good friend—had just attacked his city. People had been killed. I had no business feeling . . .whateverI was feeling towards him. It wasn’t important right now.

It was hard to remember that, though, when concern replaced the weariness in his expression and entered his tone as he asked, “How is your hand?”

I held it up. “Much better.”

“May I?”

Feeling slightly self-conscious, but seeing no reason to deny him, I extended my hand, palm up. He inspected the bandageever so gently, and I was again reminded of our moment by the fire when he stroked his thumb against my wrist.

I cleared my suddenly dry throat and carefully pulled my hand away. “Thank you for sending the healer. He said it should be good as new in a week.”

“A week?” Malik’s mouth pinched in a displeased frown, as if the length of time was unacceptable.

“Not all of us are dragon riders. Remember?”

He gave me a look that I couldn’t decipher. Then a slight hardness entered his gaze. “And would you like to explain how you even hurt your hand in the first place?”

I stared back at him pointedly. “I’m sure your warriors already told you that.”

He nodded, not denying it. “But I wish to hear it from you. I told you to get somewhere safe.”

I folded my arms in front of me. “I don’t answer to you, Your Majesty,” I reminded him. “And I couldn’t just do nothing. We had to help those people and the child. . . If we hadn’t, they would have died.”

Something flashed in his eyes, and I wasn’t sure if it was pride, exasperation, or anger. Or maybe all three. “I’m grateful for what you did, Leida. I truly am. It was admirable, but you also carelessly put your own life in danger.” I glanced down to find that even Azrun was giving me a censuring look.

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