Page 77 of Wild Flame

Upon reaching the base of the dais, Zara moved aside to stand by her mother and Amir. The Fangdar were there as well, standing in their full dragonscale armor, even Sura. Ramin, of course, was not present. All the territory leaders were there, including Salim. His face held a thin smile, but his eyes shot daggers at me as I passed. No doubt he was still insulted that Malik had declared me his Hassai instead of his daughter.

But I quickly dismissed all of that from my mind.

My eyes were now fixed on the man—the king—waiting for me at the top of the dozen or so stairs. I took him in as I lifted myskirt and began to ascend. Rather than his armor, Malik wore an elegant black tunic and pants tucked into black boots. His dark hair was swept back, and the rubies in his crown shined in the sunlight. He looked intimidating and kingly and devastatingly handsome.

My heart skipped a beat as I finally reached the top and he took my much smaller hand in his.

“You look stunning,isholet,” Malik murmured, his eyes burning with desire and pride. I gave him a shy smile as he bent to kiss the top of my hand. The crowd cheered as he did. “Are you ready?” he asked, those dark eyes missing nothing.

I nodded, suddenly finding myself unable to form words. Zara had explained that it was supposedly a simple ceremony, but since she had never gone through it herself, I was still a little nervous about what to expect.

Malik led me around the side of the archway and behind it, as we were not yet meant to walk through, and into a small tent that had been erected for our privacy.

This next part was meant to be just between us.

The tent was empty save for a Hollow One priest who stood waiting for us.

“Your Majesties,” he murmured as he bowed. We stopped before him. He smiled at both of us. “Are you ready to proceed?”

When we both nodded, he dipped his finger into a jar of oil he held and pressed it into each of our foreheads. He then moved to rub it over Malik’s right inner wrist and forearm.

“What is it?” I asked as the priest moved to do the same to my left arm.

“Godleaf oil,” he answered, naming a rare plant that only grew in remote parts of Palasia and was said to have magical properties. “Queen Lethara was given an incantation from the gods themselves that is only to be used for this ceremony. Whenthe words are spoken over the oil, the images of binding will appear.”

I blinked up at him. “Why have I never heard of this?” Surely if the Nine saw fit to give something so precious to Lethara I would have heard of it. The priests and priestesses in Halmar would have spoken of it.

“The words were passed down to her son, who in turn told them to his oldest son, Aarav, my ancient ancestor,” Malik explained, then he shrugged. “He never saw fit to share it with his brothers, it seems, so in turn, over the ages we have not either. That is why the ceremony takes place inside a tent. Only a trusted few who pledge their lives to the Nine are allowed to know the sacred words, so they may perform the ceremony.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about something so momentous being kept secret from my kingdom and a large part of the world. But I supposed that was an issue for another day. And it wasn’t Malik’s fault. He was only following in the traditions of those who had come before him.

I nodded to Malik in understanding, intrigued even more to see how this would all unfold.

The priest had already stepped back and had been waiting for us. At a nod from Malik, he said, “Turn and face one another.” We did so. “Now clasp hands and I will say the words.”

Malik took my left hand after I set down my bouquet and pressed his right hand to mine before interlacing our fingers so that our palms, wrists, and forearms were touching. He smiled at me, and I relaxed a little as the priest started speaking. The words were in ancient Zehvitian so I didn’t understand them, but the weight of them filled the room in a way I couldn’t explain.

A slight warmth began to tickle along my skin where we touched. The warmth eventually turned to true heat, though it wasn’t painful. I gasped when seconds later marks began toappear, though I could only partially make them out since our inner wrists were obscured by the other’s.

“Malik, look!” I said in wonder, and he laughed.

I met his stare then and found I couldn’t look away. He was looking at me like I was his. Like I was everything.

I barely noticed when the priest finally stopped speaking and the strange weight in the air faded. The priest stepped out to give us a moment of privacy, and the heat where we still touched lessened.

Eventually, when we pulled apart, I was the first to look down at the new mark on my inner wrist.

I had wondered what it might be, since I had learned it was unique to each person, each couple, and somehow I was not surprised at all when I saw what it was.

A dragon. A male dragon, fierce and beautiful with wings outspread, his horned head curved to one side. It actually reminded me a little bit of Azrun. I blushed as I thought of how I was always comparing Malik to a dragon. Now he would be on my skin for always.

I ran my finger over the design, amazed that it hadn’t hurt at all. I had expected it to, thinking it would be similar to Malik’s marking during the coronation. I could admit I was glad to have avoided that process.

I had been so immersed in examining my own mark that it was only when Malik’s low chuckle reached my ears that I thought to look at his. He was staring down at the flaming flower on his own wrist with a wide grin on his handsome face.

“What’s so funny?” I demanded, feeling like I was missing something. I thought his mark was beautiful. As I looked more closely, it actually seemed familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on why.

“Nothing, siren,” he replied as he examined my own mark. “It is just very fitting. That’s all.” He smiled down at me, and I found myself smiling back. I couldn’t help myself.

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