Page 48 of Wild Flame

There were no public spectators allowed inside the graveyard itself out of respect for the family, but hundreds still gatheredaround the outer wall surrounding the place. I tried to be respectful and not gape as I took in the large crypts of white and gray stone that surrounded me. Each tomb bore a large stone statue of a dragon standing protectively over it. Each dragon was different, some depicted with wings spread wide and snarls forever immortalized on their faces. Others stared calmly down as if assessing any who dared visit those they had been charged with guarding.

Zara had explained to me that this cemetery was known as the Path of Rulers, where all the past monarchs of Zehvi’s ashes had been buried since Queen Lethara herself.

I noted inscriptions engraved into the front of each crypt. I squinted to read one that said:

Herein Lie the Ashes of King Aarav Kathar

Rider of Ashar

Then it went on to list his queen and several of their children, who were apparently buried with him, along with the names of their dragons—if they were riders. This was the king who had built Ashar Palace.

I was astounded at the size and majesty of the place, even if it was made somewhat menacing by the way the firelight cast shadows over the hulking forms of the stone dragons overhead.

The procession halted at the base of a hill on which sat a raised stone slab in what I guessed to be the center of the cemetery itself. Dozens of stone steps had been carved into the hill in order to reach it. It was huge, and on it lay the body of Savarax, King Nazeem’s dragon. I knew it had to be him, even though I had never seen the creature before today.

The large umber-colored dragon lay on his stomach with his neck and tail curled inward and his wings tucked close to his back, almost as if asleep. Dragon bodies decayed slowly, over decades. So even though it had been over a month sincehe and his rider’s deaths, the dragon still appeared relatively unaffected. In Halmar, it was tradition to deliver the bodies of both rider and dragon to the sea. While in Zehvi, riders were cremated and put in crypts or mausoleums. I had read that they took their dragons to The Pit—a massive sinkhole in the middle of the Daazi Desert that swallowed the body of the dragon whole. This was done in part out of respect, but also because if the dragon were simply buried there would be no end to the grave robbers and thieves that would come after the dragon remains.

Dozens of men came forward to move the late king’s coffin to the slab, directly before his dragon. It almost appeared as if Savarax were cradling his rider. The top of the stone coffin was then removed and placed to the side. I could make out nothing in the dim light save for the vague shape of a body shrouded in linen wrappings.

I had been curious about how Zehvitians burned their dead and entombed the ashes. Mother had been horrified by the prospect, but I hadn’t understood why. It truly didn’t seem that strange to me, though I had to admit that I had been curious to see it actually done.

Malik stepped forward into the wide-open space surrounding the base of the stone slab and faced those assembled, while Zara, Amir, and Queen Vashti stood off to the side. A thin woman with dark graying hair clipped close to her head, wearing the customary red robes of a Zehvitian priestess, stepped up next to Malik. She was the only one not in white. She raised her hands to the night sky above and began to offer up prayers to the gods. She cried the words in a lilting wail that was almost singing but just fell short. The prayers were in ancient Zehvitian, so I didn’t understand, but it was beautiful. When she was done, she too moved to the side.

Then Malik spoke, his powerful voice carrying easily in the quiet night. “Here lies Nazeem Kathar, Rider of Savarax, King ofZehvi and Ruler of the Seven Rajids. May he rest in peace and glory in the realms of the Nine for all eternity. May flames mark his path.”

“May flames mark his path!” everyone around me echoed loudly in response.

Malik nodded to his siblings, and they both moved to stand on either side of him as they turned to face their father and his dragon. As if they had rehearsed it, their dragons emerged from the darkness, seeming to materialize out of it. Each dragon stood proudly in their natural form, surveying the gathering from the opposite side of the flat stone.

Azrun and Virath stood on either side of Mesmera, and the larger males positively dwarfed the younger female, much like their human counterparts themselves. The small violet dragon appeared completely unbothered by this, however. As one, the three dragons raised their heads and roared, trumpeting their farewell salute to the heavens.

The incredible and terrifying sound echoed through the night and coursed through every part of me. Filled with the immensity of it, I had to fight the instinctive urge to turn and run, while at the same time wanting to weep at the beauty of it.

They then lowered their heads and, again as one, let loose a stream of flames directly onto the open coffin before them. The flames lit up the surrounding night as if it were midday, and the heat of the flames washed over me in a wave, tightening my skin and making me shiver all at once.

When the breaths of flame finally ceased, it took several seconds for my eyes to adjust. A single pile of ash now rested in the center of the blackened stone coffin.

And just like that, the king was no more.

Later that night, I lay in my bed, not quite asleep, when I heard a whooshing sound overhead and then a soft rumble outside my window. I remained still and decided it must have been a dragon when there came a faint knock. I sat up quickly when I realized the knock hadn’t come from my chamber door, but from my balcony doors. I waited, my heart suddenly racing when the soft knock came again, slightly louder this time, and I saw movement beyond the curtains there.

I cautiously slipped out of bed and padded over to the doors, my bare feet moving silently over the plush rugs on the floor. I peeked through the distorted glass but couldn’t make anything out. I paused for only a moment before opening the double doors to find Malik standing there.

Saying I was stunned to see him here on my balcony was an understatement. I noticed Azrun behind him in the shadows. The great beast’s back was level with my second-story balcony. I stared at the dragon for a moment, standing amidst the silent gardens, then back to the man before me.

“Did I wake you, siren?” he asked in a low tone, offering no explanation for the late hour or unorthodox manner of his calling on me.

I shook my head, suddenly very conscious that I was only in a nightgown and hadn’t pulled on any kind of robe. I rarely wore one anymore due to the infernal heat. The night felt pleasant enough now though, and the nightgown covered my back, so that was all that mattered. It was also then that I remembered my hair was down and loose around my shoulders.

With a squeak, I stepped back inside and closed the door. Then I hastily braided my hair into a simple tail down my back. Traditionally, no man outside my family was allowed to see my hair out of its braids. Even if my hair was mostly down with a few simple braids, that was acceptable, but only my husbandwould ever see it completely down. It was meant to be something private between him and me.

When the braid was finished, I rested my hand on the handle before taking another deep breath and opening the door.

Malik still stood there when I reemerged, taking in my hair without comment.

“My apologies,” I murmured.

He smiled faintly and extended his hand. The bronze skin of his palm was just visible in the moonlight. “Ride with me?” he asked. His voice was nothing more than a mellow hum on the wind, barely disturbing the warm night around us.

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