Page 87 of Wild Flame

“You left me alone when you went to Henevar,” I argued.

“That was one night,” Malik said. “This trip will be longer. And the report about Henevar was faked. There was no attack. Someone obviously wanted us to believe there was, possibly to lure me and the Fangdar from the palace. Though it is unclear why. Regardless, you are not staying here without me.”

This was all news to me. Why would someone do that? “But, your Talonar—” I tried again.

“The Talonar are gifted warriors, but right now, I trust your safety to no one else. So you are coming with me.”

I knew from the look on his face that there was no point in arguing with him further.

When I didn’t protest, he continued, “Tell your maids to pack light for a week’s travel. Desert travel. We leave in an hour.”

The apology I had been ready to offer just minutes ago had now evaporated. I was silently fuming. Not only at his brusque behavior towards me, but the fact that ever since I had entered the room, it was like he was looking through me. Biting my tongue so hard that I was sure it was going to bleed, I asked, “Will that be all, Your Majesty?”

I thought I saw that muscle tick in his jaw again at my choice of address, but he simply nodded in dismissal and looked back down at his desk.

I turned and walked out.

Chapter Thirty-Two

The silence was deafening for most of the ride that first day. Malik only spoke to me when it was absolutely necessary. Even as I sat before him, pressed back against his hard chest, neither of us said a word. I was angry and hurt, even if I now regretted what I had accused him of. Malik was seething. Even Azrun seemed to be angry earlier as I climbed up into the saddle with Malik’s stony assistance. Poor Taj had tried to start a conversation several times once we stopped to make camp last night but eventually had given up when he got little response.

In fact, it was only in the late afternoon on the second day when the sun had finally begun to lower in the sky, disappearing behind the dunes beneath us, that Malik finally spoke.

“How can you think that of me? It is as if you don’t know me at all.” His voice was agitated. The words burst from him as if he couldn’t contain them anymore.

It had been quiet for so long, with only the sound of the wind flowing past my ears, that his voice startled me. But I recovered quickly as his statement brought my own anger back to the fore.

“Apparently I don’t,” I retorted. “I had to find out you and Priya were lovers by overhearing it.” I didn’t mean for it all to come out sounding so sharp, but maybe I was feeling a little more vulnerable than I thought. I shifted in the saddle. Even though I knew my husband wasn’t an innocent like me . . . I had just never thought he had been withherlike that, and I hated it.

He sighed. “I should have told you about Priya. But I assumed you knew or had guessed our history, and I saw no point in bringing up the past.”

“Please do,” I countered. “You tell me so little of yourself.”

“As you tell me so much of yourself?” he challenged, his frustration bleeding through. “I’ve had to claw and scrape and coax every little scrap of information from you. You volunteer nothing.” His fist clenched where it rested against his thigh. “I thought after our night on the rooftop . . . and that kiss in the courtyard before I left . . .” He trailed off, and I felt his broad chest expand behind me with a sigh. “All I have ever wanted was to know you, to learn about you. Ever since I first heard your beautiful voice in that garden . . . but you refuse to let me in.”

Unwittingly, my heart clenched at his admission. I opened my mouth, but when no words came, I closed it again. I sensed his disappointment. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get the words out. There was so much I wanted to say. I was still mad at him, but I also knew he was right. I wanted to apologize for so many things. But I couldn’t make myself speak.

Not even as silence fell once more between us, and we eventually landed and made camp.

Taj had chosen a spot near a craggy rock formation that was nearly as big as a dragon, with a small cave mouth at its center. He told me the dragons checked it out and found nothing save for the faint scent of some other creature, but it was old. Bhorag, Taj’s dragon, his scales a reddish-brown hue, lit a fire for us as we ate bread and dried meat from the saddlebags. It gotsurprisingly chilly out in the open desert at night, so I laid my pallet down as near the fire as I dared. The first night I had placed it far away from the fire and, without a word, Malik had moved it closer to his. Then he had pulled me down and lay protectively between me and the fire. I had wanted to complain, but I was chilled, and he was so warm that I didn’t resist. Apparently, the same would be happening tonight. Once I lay down, he did so moments later and spooned me from behind, one of his big arms encircling my waist and making my stomach flutter. I tampedthatreaction down immediately.

I also tried not to let his consideration for my comfort—even when he was angry—affect me.

The two dragons had settled down on either side of the rock formation, encircling us like a living wall.

Taj seemed to fall asleep instantly on the other side of the fire, safe in the knowledge that the dragons would alert us to any danger. With their superior hearing and senses, nothing would take us unawares while we slept.

An hour passed, and I couldn’t fall asleep. I knew Malik wasn’t asleep either because his breathing hadn’t changed.

My mind wouldn’t quiet. Malik’s words from earlier kept playing through my head.All I have ever wanted was to know you . . . But you refuse to let me in.He was right. I hadn’t shared much with him.

But I couldn’t.

I couldn’t reveal everything to him. I didn’t know if I could ever admit that I was—or had been—a part of The Order. Let alone what I had almost done to Zara. The shame of it would eat me alive if he ever knew. The look on his face. There was also the gnawing fear he wouldn’t forgive me. I would lose his touch, that warmth in his eyes whenever he looked at me. He could have me executed or exiled—to become husband and wife, but in name only. And telling Zara . . . I shuddered at the thought.

No. I could never tell him about that part of my past . . . but maybe, maybe there was another part of my past I could give him.

I glanced over to see if Taj was still asleep. I hoped he was. His back was to us, and he hadn’t moved in some time.

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