Page 46 of Wild Flame

Irritation ran through me. “I wasn’t being careless. I made a decision and acted on it.”

“Is that how you ended up stranded on the roof? Because you weren’t being careless?” His voice lowered. “Siren, what were you thinking? Thank all the Nine that I happened to glance down and see that hair of yours. When I watched you climb on that ledge, my heart nearly stopped.”

“I thought someone else was in danger. That’s why I ran into the building. What would you have d—”

A sudden commotion drew our attention to the end of the hall, where—to my surprise—Sura was now striding past the warriors there, her brown dragon Katana on her shoulder. I hadn’t seen her since Malik and I had waved to her and Ramin during the celebration.

“Let me see him!” Sura demanded as she drew closer. Her hair was disheveled, and her eyes were wild.

Malik stepped into her path. “I cannot allow that, Sura,” he said, speaking in a measured tone.

“Of course, you can. He is my husband.”

“The healer is seeing to him. He was knocked unconscious during the fight. Sekar has been,” for some reason he glanced briefly in my direction, “containedas well. I will speak to him when he wakes so we can get to the bottom of what happened.”

Sura scoffed. “I can tell you what happened. We were jumped in an alley. Not long after we saw you two.” She gestured to me. “We realized it was getting late, so we gave Nalia to her nursemaid to take her back to the palace. Katana went with them for protection. Ramin and I decided to take a stroll to a quieter part of the city for a moment alone. We had just turned down an alley when Sekar shrieked a warning. We turned to see what had upset him. Then I was hit from behind.”

“You didn’t see who attacked you?” Malik asked urgently.

Sura shook her head. Her dragon’s wings fluttered agitatedly on her shoulder. “No,” she admitted. Her stony expression turned even more furious. “I woke to find Ramin and Sekar gone and the street around me in ruins. And then I get back here only for Harun to tell me that Ramin is responsible for all of it, and you are holding him like a common criminal. This is all a misunderstanding. He couldn’t have been involved.”

“I was there, Sura,” Malik said, his voice grave. “There is no misunderstanding.”

I suddenly felt like I was intruding on a private conversation.

“Malik, he couldn’t have done what he is being accused of. Ramin is your friend, yourbrother! You know him. If you care about him at all, you wouldn’t do this. How can you—"

“People are dead, Sura!” Malik’s voice boomed, echoing off the stone walls.

Sura froze, as did everyone else in the hall. I had never heard Malik raise his voice like that, and I got the feeling from everyone else’s reactions that it didn’t happen often.

“People are dead,” he repeated. This time his voice was much quieter but still firm. “And Ramin and Sekar are responsible. I witnessed it with my own eyes, as did many others.” He held up a hand when she opened her mouth as if to protest. “I know. I know and love him as you do, and I cannot imagine what possessed them to do such a thing. But they did, Sura. They did. And because of that, I have to detain them. At least until we get to the bottom of this, and I can talk to Ramin and try to understand what happened.”

“But there has to be another explanation!” she protested.

“There isn’t. It was him,” Malik stated bluntly. “He should be in a cell. It is only because of my love for him and consideration for you and Nalia that he is not. I’m sure that some members of the court will already be crying favoritism because I have placed him in the tower rather than in the dungeon.”

Sura just glared. “Hang the court and their opinions! Ramin is Fangdar!” she shouted.

Silence reigned as Malik stared at her. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet enough that I barely heard it. “Go, Sura. Go be with Nalia. I will summon you once Ramin is awake, and I have spoken to him. Not before.” The steel in the command was that of a king speaking to his subject, and I could tell Sura heard the difference.

Her back straightened, her expression clearing save for the anger in her eyes. Anger she directed entirely at Malik. “Yes,myking.” The last was spoken with such contempt that my hackles rose on Malik’s behalf. Then she turned and strode away.

Chapter Eighteen

It had been six days since the attack on Unari, and the official day of King Nazeem’s funeral had arrived. Twenty-two people were killed, and dozens more injured during the attack. For a people who didn’t mourn their dead, the attack on the city had left a morose pall over everything.

The banquets to honor the dead king had gone on as before but had been understandably subdued, with many members of the court—including the royal family—only attending briefly before retiring or not attending at all. I had barely seen Malik.

No new information had come to light about what happened that night, and Ramin was still being held in the tower. Zara was beside herself with worry because Sura refused to see her or anyone and had yet to make an appearance since her argument with Malik. I didn’t blame her. Much of the court was crying for Ramin’s death, most animatedly a courtier whose daughter had been one of those killed. People wanted answers. Rumors and speculation abounded, but no one seemed to know anything of any real substance. Zara told me that Ramin had beeninterrogated but claimed to remember nothing of the events of that night and that he was devastated by what he had done.

The funeral wouldn’t be until later in the day, so I had gone to Zara’s room and asked if she wished to accompany me on an errand, even if it wouldn’t be the most uplifting of visits. I thought she might need to get out of the palace. That was how we found ourselves walking together in the gray of the early morning hours down to the site of the attack.

It was hard to believe it was the same street I had walked down with Malik not even a week before. Then, it had been lit by firelight and filled with music, laughter, and life. Now, our steps and those of our guards were muted as I took in the dozens of crumbled buildings and burned out, blackened stone. I could see where an effort had already started to begin rebuilding in the form of wooden scaffolding along the side of one building.

But what drew my eye was the large collection of flowers and other small tokens that had been placed in the middle of the street at the base of a simple but beautiful statue of The Maiden and The Warrior standing side by side with The Child depicted playing on the ground at their feet.

Zara and I stopped before it, and I placed my offering with the others. A bouquet of the same simple white blooms the little girl had given me. I had picked them from the gardens this morning. I had learned that she and her grandmother had been two of those who perished in the attack. My heart ached as I thought of her sweet smile when she offered me the flower. And now she was gone.

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