“Thank the Egg, you’re here, Kierion,” Lars said to him. “We need the antidote to a poison that’s killing Zaarusha. Help us find it.”
Kierion sprang to his feet. “What am I looking for?”
Adelina shoved the empty bottle under his nose. “Anything that smells like this.”
“Phew! At least it’s distinctive.”
“You search out here. Lars and I will look in Fleur’s secret stash.” Adelina rushed Lars into Fleur’s alcove. “I found that bottle in here.”
They frantically rummaged through the shelves, opening bottles and jars and smelling the contents.
“Not this one.” Lars set the bottle aside and snatched up another.
It seemed to take forever. The whole time, Adelina fought the dark panic rising inside her. Still no word of Roberto. “We’ve looked everywhere,” she finally said. “There isn’t any more.”
Lars flung his hands out. “We’ll turn the whole infirmary upside down until we find it. Then search the whole of Dragons’ Hold. We have to save our queen.” He strode out of the alcove.
Adelina hurried after him.
“Whoa, Kierion,” Lars called. “You’ve torn the place apart.”
Drawers were yanked open, mattresses and sheets had been ripped off beds, and Kierion was sprawled on the floor with his head and arms inside a mattress, ferreting around. He emerged, triumphant, hair full of straw, with bottles in his hands. “Look what I found!”
“We’ve no time to waste.” Lars slashed the pallet open with his knife, and yanked back the straw, revealing a cluster of jars, bottles and tubs, each carefully wrapped in sheep wool.
“I figured Fleur would be more likely to hide stuff in a spare mattress than in the ones patients use.” Kierion gestured to some pallets stacked against the wall. “There are a few more to check yet.”
Adelina undid the corks and test-sniffed the contents. “None are the antidote.”
Where was Roberto?
Surely, if he was injured, he would’ve been brought to the infirmary by now. Was he dead? Dread filled her like an ominous tide. “Lars, have you heard from Singlar yet?”
Grim lines tugging at his mouth, Lars shook his head.
§
Zaarusha’s glimmering thread was fading, her breathing slowing again. The antidote had helped, but it wasn’t enough. Melding with the queen wasn’t working. Or with Roberto. Or Erob. “Singlar,” Ezaara melded, “Zaarusha’s fading again. Are Erob and Roberto all right?”
“We’re nearly there.” At least she could reach someone. Within moments, Singlar landed at the imprinting grounds.
Kierion jumped off Singlar, cradling a bottle as tall as an ear of corn. “We found the antidote,” he announced. “And lots of it.”
How should she administer the remedy? All at once? In smaller doses? Too little, and they could waste the whole bottle in dribs and drabs, and not combat the poison. Too much, and it could kill Zaarusha.
“Adelina’s stayed in the infirmary with Gret. Kierion will keep vigil with you over Zaarusha,” Lars said. “I have to get back to the dungeons to help Tonio interrogate Fleur, Bruno and Simeon.”
“Of course. Any word of Erob, or Ajeuria?”
“Not yet. We’re not sure where they fell, but riders have gone searching. None of our dragons can meld with them at the moment.” His glance slid away.
He feared they were dead.
Her stomach lurched. No, not Roberto.
Time for that later. She had a queen to save. Swallowing, Ezaara cupped the bottle in her hands and closed her eyes. She breathed deeply, sensing Zaarusha’s life thread. Pale gold—no longer glimmering. Kierion held up Zaarusha’s top lip so she could jam the bottle in a gap between her fangs. Ezaara dribbled liquid into Zaarusha’s maw. The queen swallowed.
And again.
Ezaara waited, then dribbled a little more. The gold of the queen’s life thread started to glow a little more. Last time she’d deteriorated a while later. If only Ezaara knew what Zaarusha’s life thread looked like when she was healthy. She’d only ever seen it tonight, while her queen was dying.
Surely, Zaarusha needed more. Ezaara gave her twice as much as before.
The gold grew stronger.
After a while, it faded again. She still had most of the bottle left.
She doubled the dose again, and waited.
“Trial and error,” said Kierion lightly. “You’re doing well.” He shrugged a shoulder. “You can tell me I’m being nosy if you want, or you can refuse to answer. I mean, I’m just curious ...”
“What is it?” Ezaara met his gaze.
“Well, at the trial, you were accused of loving Master Roberto.” Kierion paused, awkwardly. “Is it true? Are you in love?”
Was Kierion Tonio’s spy, gathering information against them?
It came in a flash—she didn’t care what anyone thought anymore. They’d been banished. Roberto had had his guts slit like a rabbit. She’d saved him from murder. And now he was ... what? Dead? Alive? The dragon masters’ opinions weren’t important anymore. “Yes, I love him. But I’ve never acted upon my feelings.” Thank the Egg, Roberto had stopped her.
“What does it feel like? How do you know ...?” Kierion blushed.
So, he liked someone too. “I imagine it’s different for each person. For me, love is sunlight shimmering on water, dancing into the darkest corners of my soul.” Despite her missing connection with Roberto, and despite Zaarusha’s state, the thought of Roberto’s love made hope grow in Ezaara’s heart. She paused as Kierion nodded to himself. “How does it feel for you?” she asked.
Kierion started. “Me?”
She let a faint smile touch her lips. “Yes, you.”
Blushing beet red, Kierion stammered, “A-as b-bright as an eagle’s eye, as soft as the clouds and as if I’m about to burst with joy.”
“Does the person you like feel the same?”
“Um, ah, I ...”
“The one you love doesn’t know?”
He grinned and ducked his head. “No, not yet.”
Under Ezaara’s hand, Zaarusha moved. She had to focus. As Ezaara tipped the bottle, Kierion shifted his weight and bumped her. A gush of fluid rushed into Zaarusha’s mouth.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Kierion’s face twisted with worry.
Ezaara bit her lip to stop herself from yelling. It was too late. He’d wasted half the huge bottle. The Egg only knew what the effect would be.
Suddenly, Ezaara’s mind was bathed with colors swirling in golden light.
“Ezaara?” the queen melded.
“I’m here, Zaarusha.” A hot tear slid down her cheek. Then another. “Thank you, Kierion. Don’t be sorry. I never would have given her that much at once, but it was exactly what she needed.”
Kierion’s face lit up like a fistful of candles.
“Ezaara.” Zaarusha raised her head, voice shaky. “Why are my littlings fighting?”
Littlings? Ezaara frowned. “You mean the masters?”
“No, my son and daughter.”
Her son? And—
Erob! Ajeuria! “They’re alive?”
“And that master you’re so fond of—Roberto’s alive too.”
A wave of relief whooshed through Ezaara, so potent she was glad she was kneeling.
“Sorry, Ezaara. I shouldn’t have doubted you and forfeited your right to ride me.” Zaarusha nuzzled her hand. “How can you forgive me?”
More tears slid down Ezaara’s cheeks. “I already have.”
“You’ve always trusted me, right from the moment you saw me, but I let my heart be darkened by aspersions from others. They convinced me you’d fooled me, and were still fooling me, even though I found no malice in your heart.”
Ezaara flung her arms around Zaarusha’s neck. Her skin was warm and comforting, like soft leather.
“Singlar tells me Bruno, Fleur and Ajeuria double crossed me. They must have fed Ajeuria swayweed.” Zaarusha’s hurt knifed through E
zaara. “I’m supposed to be a queen of steel, tough but wise, but I’ve made so many mistakes, lost so many loved ones. I’ve just had you two unfairly banished. I lost my rider Anakisha, and my mate Syan and his rider Yanir.” Again, Zaarusha shared Anakisha falling into a horde of tharuks and the glittering black dragon and his rider rushing to save her, only to be caught as well. “Your mother killed my dragonet before it was born.” A dead purple dragonet floated in a translucent golden shell. Deep sorrow permeated Ezaara, so strong her bones ached. “Not only did I lose my baby, but, in my wrath, I lost two of my best masters.” Younger versions of Ma and Pa swam before her. “And now these two.” Shari and Jaevin.
“And before you and I imprinted, I’d just lost my other son.” An orange dragon was trapped by tharuks in the midst of battle. They dragged him away in a net, tail and talons trussed up, snarling and roaring. “Is it so wrong that I don’t want to lose Ajeuria too?”
§
Roberto hung on as Erob straddled Ajeuria, pinning her body to the earth. She thrashed, but Erob tightened his jaws around the back of her neck. His earlier fang marks around her throat were oozing blood. Ajeuria’s head slumped on the ground. She held still, but kept snarling.
Roberto slid down Erob’s side and leaped down. “Hold her tight, Erob.”
“I’ve got her. You should be able to find something out now, without having your pretty fingers snapped off.”
“Pretty?” Roberto snorted. His nails had half the Robandi desert stuck under them. He laid his hands on Ajeuria’s head. It took every scrap of concentration for him to delve through Ajeuria’s mind, discarding irrelevant memories and looking for clues to Ajeuria’s behavior.
He found a memory laced with hurt.
Ajeuria nuzzled Fleur. “You’re wrong. Zens doesn’t want what’s best for us at all. I’d usually do anything you ask, Fleur, but I can’t go against my mother or the realm.”
“Come with me, Ajeuria,” said her rider, “and I’ll show you what great things Zens has in store for us.”
Eager to please Fleur, and keen to convince her Zens was evil, the green dragon followed her rider into a barn. As the doors closed behind them, Ajeuria scented tharuks. “Fleur, beware!”
A net flew over Ajeuria, pulled tight by a horde of tharuks. “Run, Fleur!” Her wings were bent back, squashed against her body, her feet snared in the net’s ropes. The beasts yanked, tightening the net.
Fleur laughed.
Anguish ripped through Ajeuria. Her rider had betrayed her. The more she thrashed, the more tangled the net grew. She flamed the ropes, burning through those near her snout. A brute shoved a spear into the skin below her eye. “Move again and I’ll blind you.”
They muzzled her. Then the tharuks twisted her tail, sticking it with spears and drove more spear tips into her belly. They fastened metal shackles around her limbs, tying them together with chains so short she couldn’t move. Reduced to huddling with her legs bunched under her and her snout and tail tied, Ajeuria was miserable.
Fleur visited her daily, watching Bruno lash Ajeuria with a metal-tipped whip until she cowered. They starved her for days, until she was thirsty enough to drink anything.
One morning, Fleur arrived with a bucket. “We’re so sorry to have treated you this way, Ajeuria. I was being influenced by Zens, but now I’ve seen that he’s a destroyer. He tricked me into believing him. Will you forgive me?” Fleur started crying. “You’re one of the last of a long line of royal dragons. I never should have treated you this way.”
Hobbled and aching all over from Bruno’s whip, Ajeuria stretched her neck out to nudge Fleur. “I forgive you. I’m sorry Zens duped you and Bruno. Untie me so we can escape.”
Fleur undid Ajeuria’s muzzle. “First, drink. You must be thirsty.”
Ajeuria thought nothing of the odd tang in the water.
“Quick,” said Fleur. “Someone’s coming, let me put your muzzle on so they can’t tell.” Once she’d fastened the muzzle, Fleur laughed. “Enjoy your swayweed, precious mummy’s girl.”
Starved and half-crazy from being tied up for days, Ajeuria was furious—until the swayweed took effect, filling her with hatred for the very dragons she loved. From that moment, she’d carried out Fleur’s commands.
“Ajeuria,” Roberto melded, hands still against her head. “I’m sorry for what Fleur and Bruno have done to you.” He had to check her reactions, so he reactivated the memory. Ajeuria trembled, whimpering with each remembered strike of Bruno’s whip.
Bitterness ricocheted through Roberto. Amato had whipped him too and whipped Razo, destroying all his love for his father. Bruno and Fleur had mistreated a royal dragon, twisting her love and loyalty into cruelty and deceit. They’d broken her.
“Please, Roberto, help my sister,” Erob melded.
“Some dragons never recover from swayweed, Erob.”
“I know.” There was an ache in Erob’s words that made Roberto’s eyes sting. How would he feel if this was Adelina?
Shari
The drums beat softly as riders gathered beneath the dawn-kissed tips of Dragon’s Teeth. Roberto approached the clearing with the other members of the council. Surprise rippled through the crowd. He didn’t care what they thought; he’d been reinstated as master of imprinting and mental faculties early this morning, and cleared of attempted poisoning.
Shari, dressed in white and gold, was lying on top of a wooden platform, on a mat of woven river reeds with four long ropes at the corners. Her arms were crossed upon her chest, her face peaceful and her dark braids gleaming in the early morning sun. She looked serene.
Too serene for Shari. Her eyes were closed, not sparkling with laughter, or warm with understanding. Her lips were still, instead of smiling or encouraging. The only master aside from Lars who’d welcomed him here, Shari had brought light to his early days at Dragons’ Hold. Amid whispers, stares and ugly rumors, she’d championed him and Adelina. He’d been hollowed out with the grief of losing Ma, bitter against his Pa, and angry at the world. Shari’s trust had sown the kernel of his own self-belief and given him the motivation to train hard and become a dragon master. Despite his past, she’d won the council over, insisting they give him a chance to train here on Erob.
Without Shari and Adelina’s love, he would’ve been a broken shell, stranded on a beach of grief.
The drums stopped. The only sounds were the soft breathing of the crowd and the birds warbling.
“It’s time, Ezaara. Do you remember what to do?”
“Yes.” Short and simple, but accompanied by a wash of warmth and a blaze of color that took his breath away. He’d done nothing to deserve this amazing woman in his life, yet she was here.
“You’ve let down your barriers,” Erob said. “You can finally be yourself with someone other than me.”
“It’s her. She makes it easy.”
“Maybe being an ignorant settler from Lush Valley was an advantage. She had no prejudices.”
“But I did. And yet she won me over.” Roberto stretched, trying to ease the ache in his shoulder. The fight with Ajeuria had been brutal, but she was safely in a holding pen. Within days, they’d know whether the swayweed had permanently affected her loyalty to her queen and the realm.
Above them, Zaarusha spread her massive wings and took flight. The sun caught her scales. A pale gray sheen dulled their usual iridescence.
“My mother isn’t strong yet,” Erob commented. “She needs rest so she can recover.”
Roberto nodded. They all did.
Zaarusha landed on the far side of the clearing beneath her den, and Ezaara dismounted. Her emerald eyes met his, and his breath hitched. She was gorgeous. Her hair hung in a honey-blonde silken swathe, catching the dawn light as she moved with grace through the crowd, head high.
People watched her, some gazes curious, some welcoming, others openly hostile. A far cry from the warm welcome when she’d first arrived at Dragons’ Hold.
Ezaara melded. “Are you all rig
ht? Any injures from yesterday?”
“None that you can’t heal. Ezaara, you saved our queen.”
“Thank the Egg.”
“No, thank you.”
“Well, actually, I couldn’t have done it without what Ithsar taught me.”
“I’m glad there was some purpose in us going to the Wastelands.” His skin still prickled whenever he remembered his slit gut and the assassins’ bizarre breeding plans.
“Good morning, Honored Council Leader.” Ezaara stopped in front of Lars, bowing. “As rider of Zaarusha, Queen of Dragons’ Realm, I, Ezaara, request that you begin the death rites for Shari, Honored Master of Livestock, who has recently died at the hand of a traitor.”
Murmurs erupted as people realized Ezaara had been reinstated as Queen’s Rider—and Shari had been murdered.
“I would be honored,” Lars replied.
The crowd quieted as Lars plucked at his harp. Face careworn, he sang of Shari’s ancestors across the Naobian Sea. Weaving a spell around the listeners, Lars sang of Shari’s life, her journeys, her brief sojourn among mages, and then of her imprinting with Ariana and coming to Dragons’ Hold to prove herself.
Ariana threw her head skyward and howled.
Roberto’s throat ached. Would Erob howl for him when he died?
“Stop being so morose, or I’ll howl right now,” Erob said.
Roberto held back his tears as Lars sang of Shari’s legendary gift with animals. But as Lars, gazing right at Roberto, sang about Shari’s compassion for her fellow riders, tears ran freely down Roberto’s cheeks, the sharp bite of salt on his lips.
§
Ezaara had never lost anyone she loved before, but it was obvious from Roberto and Adelina’s reactions that they both had, and that Shari had been dear to them. Roberto’s face was wet with tears as he cried unashamedly. To think this man had hidden everything behind a stone facade.
Shari’s life-song danced among the crowd.
How would she die? Death had seemed so distant when she’d taken her vows as Queen’s Rider. Would she plunge to her death amid a horde of bloodthirsty tharuks like Anakisha? Live her life enslaved to Zens like Roberto had been? Be murdered like Shari? Or killed in battle? Perhaps she’d die old, in Roberto’s arms. Or would she, too, lose her life to a traitor?
Riders of Fire Box Set Page 29
