Riders of Fire Box Set

by Eileen Mueller

  Deadly Intent

  Roberto had his arms around Ezaara as she slept, the warmth of her back seeping through his jerkin. His eyes were gritty and drooping, but he was too tense to sleep, despite the peaceful rhythm of Erob’s wingbeats. The Egg knew what would be facing them when they arrived at Dragons’ Hold. His whole life, he’d wanted to be a dragon master, but he’d gladly thrown it away to save Ezaara from banishment. He’d never expected her to sacrifice being Queen’s Rider—it was nearly impossible to deny the bond between rider and dragon. But she’d done it—for him.

  It had been a long hard flight and his backside was aching. Roberto shifted in his saddle. Erob was slowing.

  The first rays of sunset hit the crags of Dragon’s Teeth, making the snow-clad reaches catch fire. His breath caught. This is what he lived for. Flying. Nature in all its glory. And now, Ezaara in his arms, her breath rising and falling, and her hair smelling of the Naobian Sea.

  She stirred and woke.

  “Look,” Roberto whispered. “Isn’t it stunning?”

  She exhaled, eyes wide at the sight. “Roberto, we can’t let tharuks destroy this.”

  “They will, if we give them a chance.”

  “All this bickering and in-fighting … we’ve got to turn our gaze outwards and work to save the realm.”

  “If we regain our standing with the council …” He sighed. “One step at a time. First, we have to get there.”

  As they neared the ranges, blue guards took to the sky.

  Erob melded. “So, they’re awake and alert. What do you want me to tell them?”

  “That they’re a bunch of idiots for believing I was guilty.”

  “Well, you were pretty convincing,” Erob replied.

  “You didn’t believe me. You knew I was innocent.”

  “Of course I did. You have a dragon of superior intellect.”

  “With a mild sense of exaggeration.” Despite his trepidation, a chuckle broke from Roberto.

  “And a wicked sense of humor. Don’t forget the humor.” A rumble rippled through Erob’s belly. “I’ll manage them, shall I?”

  Ezaara broke in. Whenever she melded with him and Erob, it was like an extra string on Lars’ harp, producing a new exciting thread in an existing melody. “Remind the blue guards that they’ve pledged to serve our queen, and it’s in her best interests to reunite her with the Queen’s Rider. At least, I hope she wants to be reunited.”

  “Did she banish you outright?” Roberto asked her.

  Ezaara winced. “Only because I went after you. But I’m glad I did.”

  “Of course you are.” Erob snorted. “Neither of you are guilty. Which means someone else is.”

  Erob melded with the blue guards’ dragons. They were closer now, their talons visible. Were they coming to drive them off? Or to escort them into the hold?

  Septimor, Seppi’s dragon, roared, and Erob replied, a tremor running through him. “We’re to follow them to the council chambers.”

  So, no longer outcasts, but not yet welcomed either. Well, that was better than being chased off outright.

  “What’s happening?” Ezaara straightened. “I can’t meld with Zaarusha.”

  “That’s strange.” Roberto took his hands off her waist. “Maybe she’s hunting or asleep.”

  Blue dragons flanked them on either side. Roberto gave Seppi a nod, and they flew on. When the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth were below them, drumbeats started pounding.

  “So much for a quiet entrance,” Erob said.

  “What’s that drum signal?” Ezaara asked.

  “Something’s afoot,” Roberto said. A repeated seven-beat rhythm. “A death toll. Someone’s died.” Shards! His breath got stuck in his throat. Adelina? Lars? Who? Another poisoning or an innocent death?

  Ezaara sat bolt upright. “Our traitor may have struck again.”

  Seppi’s grim expression conveyed similar thoughts. Erob swooped down, flanked by blue guards, and landed outside the council chambers. Roberto thumped to the ground with Ezaara and the blue guards close on his heels. They rushed into the chamber, drums reverberating through the stone.

  No one was there. Two chairs were up-ended, the others pushed back haphazardly. Papers were scattered across the table and half-eaten food sat on plates. Cloaks were hanging on hooks, but there were no weapons in the weapons stand. The masters had left in a hurry, armed.

  “Come on, we’ve got to find Lars,” Roberto yelled to Seppi as he spun for the door.

  Seppi grabbed his arm. “Not so fast, Roberto. Septimor’s melding with Singlar to see if Lars wants you free or in chains.”

  That stung. And Roberto hadn’t missed the fact that Seppi hadn’t addressed him as ‘master’.

  Seppi’s face blanched, right as Erob melded with Roberto, “It’s Master Shari. She’s dead,” said Erob. “I’m sorry.”

  Knees faltering, Roberto grasped the back of a nearby chair, the wood biting into his clenched hand. No, not Shari.

  Her smile flashed to mind. When no one else had accepted him at Dragons’ Hold, she’d welcomed him, trusting he’d changed when he’d imprinted with Erob. She’d stood up for him at his trial, seeing through his lies to save Ezaara. She was the closest thing to family he and Adelina had.

  By saving Ezaara, he hadn’t been here to help someone else he loved. Eyes stinging, he forced himself to speak. “Seppi, please ask Lars if I may see Shari.”

  Seppi waited a few moments, obviously asking Septimor to meld with Singlar, then replied. “Lars would like you and Ezaara in Shari’s cavern, right away.”

  §

  Ezaara glanced at Roberto’s pale face as he gripped a chair. Shari had obviously been close to him. She kept trying to meld with Zaarusha as she and Roberto followed the blue guards down the tunnel, that strange drum rhythm echoing around them. “Zaarusha.” Still no answer. Was the queen too angry to mind-meld?

  They rounded a corner and met a troop of guards stationed outside Shari’s door, swords drawn. “Halt!” A guard addressed Seppi. “Why are you bringing these traitors into the heart of the hold?”

  Seppi nodded curtly. “Lars wants to see them immediately.”

  Moving aside, the guards opened the door, and they entered.

  Face haggard, Lars was on his knees next to Shari’s bed with his hand on her shoulder. He waved them in. Masters Tonio, Bruno, Aidan, Hendrik, and Fleur were in discussion, clustered at the foot of the bed.

  Shari lay curled, with her hands around her stomach. Even in death, she was beautiful. Her braids were scattered around her face and across her pillow, their copper and silver fastenings glinting in the torchlight. Her dark eyes were blank, staring into nothing.

  “We’re not sure what caused her death,” said Lars, voice husky. “But we’ll find out.”

  Maybe the poisoner had struck again, not satisfied because Ezaara had thwarted their attempt on Jaevin’s life.

  “How’s Master Jaevin doing?” Ezaara asked.

  Lars’ gaze was flat. “He’s dead.”

  Ezaara’s stomach jolted. “But I healed him. He should have been fine. What happened?”

  “We don’t know.” Lars shook his head. “We’ve been trying to find out, but Master Fleur hasn’t been able to get to the bottom of it.”

  Fleur chimed in, pointing at her and Roberto. “These traitors were banished for colluding to kill Master Jaevin. I told you Ezaara left a substance with Threcia, saying it was medicine, but it killed him. It was probably more dragon’s bane.”

  Rising to his feet, Lars gave Master Fleur a withering look. “All masters, report to the main cavern to address the assembled folk. Tonio, you’re in charge. Have your people circulate among the crowd and see if they can pick up anything. Fleur, once Shari’s death has been announced, bring the other female master, Alyssa, back to prepare Shari for her death rites. Seppi, Roberto and Ezaara, you stay here. We have to get to the bottom of this before anyone else is killed.”

  Bruno strode across the ro
om. “I’m not leaving you with two banished outcasts and only one blue guard for protection.”

  “Very well.” Lars’ gaze was icy. “Seppi, choose another blue guard to stay. Now, the rest of you, get to the main cavern.” He glowered until Bruno left.

  Roberto melded with Ezaara. “Bruno and Fleur seem very keen to have us out of the way.”

  “And to tarnish our reputations,” she replied. “I’m going to check something.”

  But before she could move, Lars spoke, “Two Masters dead since you’ve been banished, so it obviously wasn’t your fault. Roberto, I’m guessing you said you’d poisoned Jaevin to deflect the blame off Ezaara. You’d rather we lost a master of imprinting and mental faculties than the Queen’s Rider, huh?” He shot Roberto a shrewd gaze. “We need to get to the bottom of this matter, then I’ll have you both reinstated. But first, I need to know if you’ve been romantically involved.”

  “No, sir.”

  “Lucky we never kissed,” Ezaara shot.

  “Agreed.” Roberto’s answer was heartfelt.

  “But you do care about her, don’t you?”

  A brief nod was the only sign Roberto gave.

  “I’m glad you showed me how you feel or I wouldn’t believe it,” Ezaara said.

  For a heartbeat, Roberto’s cheeks took on a red tinge as he addressed Lars. “Tell us what happened.”

  The booming of the drums stopped, the air suddenly hollow.

  Lars cracked his neck. “Jaevin’s dragon, Vino, melded with Zaarusha and showed her Jaevin’s dying thoughts. He insisted that you’d helped him to recover, then someone else had slipped poison into his evening meal. He had no idea who it was.” Grief lined Lars’ face. “I’m sorry. I owe you both my deepest apologies. Now we have to hunt down the killer before they strike again.”

  This was awkward. Ezaara had expected hostility or accusation, not contrition. “Thank you, Lars,” she said. “There’s something else that concerns me. I haven’t been able to meld with Zaarusha since we arrived.”

  “When Zaarusha realized you two hadn’t poisoned Jaevin, she barricaded her mind and hasn’t let any dragons meld with her since,” Lars replied. “Fleur’s dragon, Ajeuria, insists that Zaarusha needs peace and quiet and that solitude will help her heal.”

  Odd. Ezaara would’ve expected Zaarusha to be angry, filled with fire and flame, not retreating in self-pity. Then again, Ezaara had never seen her heartbroken. Could Ajeuria be right? “What do you think?”

  Roberto shrugged. “I don’t trust Fleur, Bruno or Simeon, but Ajeuria should be loyal to the queen.”

  Ezaara’s eyes were drawn to a bowl of half-eaten soup on Shari’s bedside table. “Why was she eating here, not in the mess cavern?”

  “She’d been feeling off-color, so she chose to miss tonight’s council meeting and eat here.” Lars pulled Shari’s blanket up to her shoulders.

  Except for her staring eyes, she could’ve been sleeping.

  There was a knock at the door, and the guards let Fleur and Alyssa enter. While Lars and Roberto were greeting them, Ezaara used the opportunity to examine Shari’s meal. She bent over, as if to tighten her boot, and sniffed the bowl. Odd. The soup had a strange but familiar scent. She quickly moved away before anyone noticed. Where had she recently smelt that?

  “Alyssa and I will dress Shari in her ceremonial robes now.” Fleur held the door open—a blatant invitation for Lars, Roberto and Ezaara to leave.

  “Ezaara will be assisting you,” Lars said firmly.

  “But she’s no longer the Queen’s Rider—”

  “It’s tradition that all females on the council dress a deceased female master, you know that. I’ve spoken with Ezaara and deemed her fit. It’s only a matter of time until she’s reinstated as Queen’s Rider.”

  “Very well. My son will be pleased to welcome her back.”

  In a flash, Ezaara knew when she’d smelt that weird flavor—Simeon’s relaxing tea. That’s why she’d vomited—Simeon had poisoned her, keeping her away from Sofia to create more prejudice against her. But why? What did Simeon have to gain?

  It didn’t matter. Simeon and his family couldn’t be trusted. Roberto had never trusted him—said he’d had good reason not to. She’d been a fool, thinking he was sweet when she’d first arrived.

  Lars turned to leave.

  “Lars, I need to talk to you.”

  “What is it, Ezaara?”

  Ezaara couldn’t help shooting a nervous gaze toward Fleur. “Sir, I think I know—”

  Fire blinded Ezaara’s vision. Flames licked along her skin, making her flesh sear and blister. The stench of her own burning flesh filled her nostrils. Flames rippled over her jerkin, smoke searing her eyes. Her brain jangled, making her want to scream. No, she would not, could not, give in to this illusion. No dragon’s vision was going to beat her this time.

  Gasping, Ezaara fixed her home in her mind, picturing their shutters, the fields, the Alps rising far beyond the forest toward the sky. Flames flickered, threatening to burst through the cobalt sky. She focused. The sky was blue. Blue. The clouds, white and fluffy. The flames were an illusion. The day was warm. Birds were singing. Tomaaz was outside in the garden, tilling the earth. Her father was planting beets. Her mother was kneading a second batch of bread in their cottage, the scent of baking loaves wafting through their home. She would not let an errant dragon force her into submission through mind-bending. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ezaara went over every detail, a summer breeze kissing her face.

  She relaxed. She’d won the battle.

  “Ezaara, what is it?” Lars asked. “Are you ill?”

  She opened her mouth, about to speak, when Roberto melded. “Careful, Ezaara. Everyone is watching you, and it’s obvious you’ve been attacked mentally. Stay cool. Don’t give anything away.”

  Someone had prevented her from sharing vital information with Lars. A bead of sweat trickled into her eye. Either Alyssa or Fleur via one of their dragons. She coughed. “It doesn’t matter, Lars. It was nothing.”

  Fleur, it had to be. Ezaara melded with Roberto, “Shards! Fleur’s the murderer, and her whole family are in on it.”

  “Come on,” said Fleur, “we need some privacy to prepare Shari for her death rites.” She waved the men out of the room before Roberto could answer.

  “I’m sending Adelina to help you,” Roberto melded from the corridor. “I don’t want you to be in there without support, but we need to catch Fleur in the act.”

  “Thank you.” Although relief washed through Ezaara, she kept her face neutral.

  Fleur opened one of Shari’s drawers and pulled out a pristine white tunic and breeches edged with golden dragons. “This is fitting for her final passage.” She shook her head. “Such a tragedy that she’s died so young. So much vitality snuffed out.”

  She sounded so sincere. The woman was demented.

  Adelina arrived, her usual perky attitude missing. “Please let me know how I can help.”

  Fleur laid the robe on the bed and then turned, as if she’d just spotted the bowl on Shari’s bedside table. “Oh dear, we can’t have food next to the deceased.”

  “Why not?” asked Ezaara.

  “Fleur is from Montanara,” Alyssa answered. “Montanarians never leave food near those who die. It’s considered disrespectful. Here, Fleur, let me get rid of it for you.”

  “No, I’ll do it myself,” she replied. “Alyssa, please show Ezaara how to wash and dress Shari. I’ll be back shortly.”

  A chill shivered down Ezaara’s neck. Fleur was trying to destroy the evidence.

  Adelina whisked the bowl away before Fleur could reach it. “Master Fleur, allow me to perform this menial task. The dressing of a master is of utmost importance and must be performed by our distinguished master healer.” Before Fleur could utter a word, Adelina slipped out of the room with the food.

  “Excellent,” said Alyssa. “It is fitting that you dress Master Shari for her death rites, Fleur.”

 
“It would’ve only taken a moment,” Fleur said stiffly. “But it’s kind of Adelina to help.”

  “Roberto, Adelina is bringing poisoned food. Save it for their trial.”

  “Will do.”

  They disrobed Shari and washed her. Adelina returned and helped Fleur and Alyssa fasten her tunic and arrange her hair.

  A knock sounded at the door. Ezaara opened it and nearly leaped backward when Simeon gave her a dazzling smile.

  “Ah, My Honored Queen’s Rider, or soon to be again, I’m sure.” He bent and tried to kiss her hand.

  Ezaara snatched it back. This creep had attacked her. Mauled her. She’d never noticed how slimy Simeon was: getting her onside at the feast; poisoning her with that tea; and driving a wedge between her and Roberto. He’d probably broken her cane, too.

  “I do wish I could welcome you back to Dragons’ Hold under more pleasant circumstances,” Simeon continued. He turned to Fleur. “Mother, you’re needed urgently. Someone is gravely ill. Please come at once.” Fleur hustled out the door after him, without a backward glance.

  Simeon and Fleur were up to something. Was Alyssa in on it too? Would she believe them if they told her? Or would she stop them from following Fleur?

  Ezaara stared at Adelina, stricken.

  Adelina gave a subtle wink. “My Honored Queen’s Rider, you look weary. You must’ve had a long journey with my brother. Why don’t you take some time to freshen up? Alyssa and I will keep vigil here overnight.”

  “I can manage on my own.” Alyssa commandeered Ezaara and Adelina toward the doorway. “Shari was my dearest colleague.” She backhanded a tear from her eye. “It’s a privilege for me to keep vigil until her death rites in the morning. Adelina, you must see your brother. Ezaara, you need to be reunited with Queen Zaarusha.”

  As she and Adelina rushed out the door, Ezaara melded with Roberto. “Fleur and Simeon are up to something.”

  “I’ve been called away to a tharuk attack.” Roberto sounded torn.

  “Have you got any idea where they’ve gone?” Ezaara asked Adelina.

  “Along this way, but I’ve no idea where they’re heading,” Adelina answered as they ran past the guards, along the tunnel. “While you were away, I’ve been volunteering in the infirmary. Over the past few days, I’ve taken a sample of every substance stockpiled in that alcove we discovered.” She patted the bag she always wore, slung over her shoulder. “They’re all right here.”