Page 53 of Wild Flame

I couldn’t help but smile at their antics and was thoroughly engrossed in watching it all unfold. That was when I heard a faint gasp beside me, just as a shadow fell over me. I glanced up to find Malik grinning down at me.

He was breathing hard, that massive chest rising and falling with each breath. And those dark eyes were still alive with the thrill of the fight. The effect was dazzling.

Hewas dazzling.

I blinked. Had he reallyclimbedup here?

His sudden nearness, paired with all that bronze skin on display, had my heart racing and my skin flushing. In my flustered state, I forgot to formally address him. “Malik, what are you—"

He reached up and swiped his fingers through the paint on his chest, right over his heart. Then he leaned forward, lifted up my hand, and touched those same fingers to the back of it.

The crowd around us cheered, and Zara giggled beside me. His laughing eyes met mine before he leaned further down and whispered against my ear, “Until tonight, siren.”

Then he straightened to his full height, flashed me that wicked grin, and without another word, turned and leapt back down to the sand and out of sight.

I sat there in stunned shock for several seconds.

It wasn’t until I looked around and saw Zara clapping her hands together, Priya looking murderous behind her, and Harun and Tajan smiling broadly, that it finally hit me.

Malik . . . Malik had just marked me as his. And I would be his partner for the dance this evening.

Chapter Twenty

Several hours later, I found myself once again being prepared for an event, but this time, it was different. I was restless, and my skin felt electric. My blood thrummed under my skin. It had been doing that ever since the arena. I still couldn’t believe Malik marked me. Of all the women he could have chosen . . . Was it because we shared that kiss? Surely not. He was Zehvitian. The kiss probably meant little to him. And though I wasn’t an idiot—I knew he was attracted to me—I still didn’t think that was the only reason. I thought of the day we first met in the throne room and all the encounters since. The way he had sought me out the night of his father’s funeral. Perhaps the King of Zehvi felt more for me than I wanted to let myself believe.

I stared down at the now dried red paint on my hand.

When my maids found out what it was and what had happened, Hilde had sneered and demanded we wash it off, but I feared it would be an insult to do so before the night was over.

Oblivious to my whirling thoughts, Astrid hadn’t stopped buzzing since I returned from the Nest.

“Of course he chose you, my lady. He is a smart man, after all.” I shot her an exasperated look, which she pointedly ignored as she flung open my wardrobe and began flicking through the gowns there. “What color shall you wear tonight?”

I glanced once more at the paint on my hand and, feeling suddenly reckless, I spoke up.

“Actually Astrid, if you would, see if I may borrow a gown from Princess Zara for tonight,” I requested as I ran a brush through my hair, refusing to look at either of them as I did. I did not think Zara would mind if I asked to borrow a gown, and we were roughly the same size, even if she was slightly taller and had a few less curves.

There was a pause before Astrid answered, “Of course, my lady. Do you have any preference for color or style?”

I shrugged. “Whatever the princess thinks would be best, or whatever she can spare.” I glanced at her in the mirror. “I cannot claim to be an expert in the fashions of her people.”

“Of course, my lady,” she said again, breaking into a wide smile.

“Though, I would prefer something on the less revealing side of the current fashion,” I stipulated, thinking of the gown—or rather more like undergarments—I had seen Priya wearing at the Coronation Games.

Astrid’s smile softened, and she inclined her head.

“Are you sure it would not be more prudent to wear one of your own dresses, Princess?” Hilde asked. “I’m not sure how your mother would feel about you wearing such immodest garb. It would reflect poorly on—”

“Mymotherisn’t here, Hilde,” I stated firmly, halting what would no doubt have been a lengthy diatribe. My words were greeted with a long silence before Hilde bowed slightly, no doubt biting back all the words she truly wished to say. Though I wassure she would say all of them in a report to my mother at the first opportunity.

There was a knock at the door, and Astrid moved to answer it. She exchanged a few words with someone on the other side of the door, then returned carrying a large rectangular box with a sealed note resting on the top.

Astrid was near beaming when she declared, “A gift from His Majesty. And he bids you open it directly.”

I gaped at her for a few moments and then stood to reach for the note, opening it with shaking hands.

My heart was pounding erratically in my chest as I set the note aside and lifted the lid of the box.

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