Roberto grinned, holding their tied hands high.
Lars blew his horn once more. “Yes, Anakisha’s prophecy is fulfilled.” Handel roared, shaking the stage. “Now, Roberto and Ezaara will have their first dance as a hand-fasted couple,” Lars said. “Let’s celebrate, dance, and enjoy this fine feast.”
Musicians struck up the lively hand-fasting tune.
Sathir rippled around them as Roberto placed his hand at Ezaara’s waist and swept her around the stage in time to the music. Enfolded in his strong arms, his eyes caressing her face, and his mind melded with hers, her joy was complete.
“This feels so right,” he melded. “I never thought I’d amount to anything after Amato and Zens’ abuse. Never thought I’d be able to give my heart to anyone. I was broken, nothing.”
“You’re everything to me.” Ezaara rested her head against Roberto’s shoulder, and he pulled her tight as they danced. “Everything.”
§
Lars was fetching another carafe from the drinks table as Tonio approached him. “Evening, Tonio. You happy with how things have turned out?”
“Very. That was a close thing. Roberto could’ve been killed by Zens, and Anakisha’s prophecy never would have been fulfilled.”
Lars took a sip of grape juice. “She could have married Urs or Lofty. They’re both Anakisha’s descendants.”
Tonio shook his head. “Neither of them are right for her. Roberto is. I shouldn’t have insisted on leaving him in Death Valley. I apologize for my terrible lapse of judgment. With his talents, he’s an asset to the council, but could have been a terrible weapon in Zens’ hands.”
“He’d rather be broken or dead than harm our people,” Lars replied.
“I think you’re right.” Tonio selected a bottle of wine and headed back to his table.
Lars stared after him, muttering, “That’s a good change. What in the Egg’s name has gotten into him?”
§
Leah tugged Mara over to a group of mages, all dressed in their fancy cloaks. “You’ve got to see this, it’s incredible.”
“I haven’t met any wizards before,” Mara said. “I’m not sure if they’re safe.”
Leah smiled. “They’re nothing to be scared of. Kierion fights tharuks with mages all the time. One of them is my friend.”
“Really?” Mara asked, round-eyed. “Your friend?”
“Yes, he even gave me flowers once.” Leah’s chest swelled with pride. “You might get some too, if you’re lucky.”
Mara just bit her lip.
A Naobian mage twitched his fingers, sending a line of mage lights spiraling down toward the dancers. He spread his fingers and the lights spun off in different directions, casting their green glow over people’s faces. The man stepped back, nearly bumping into Leah. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He smiled. “I’m Jael. Nice to meet you.”
Mara shrunk back, but Leah held herself tall. “Hi, Jael, I’m Leah and this is my friend Mara. Have you seen Fenni?”
“Sure, he’s over there.” Jael pointed to a row of wizards sitting in chairs along the back wall. Fenni was watching the dancers, his long legs crossed at the ankles.
“Thanks.” She dragged Mara over. “Hi, Fenni.”
“Lovely to see you, Leah.” He smiled. Flourishing his hands, he created a beautiful bouquet of flaming flowers. “Just for you.” The flowers exploded into tiny green stars and disappeared.
Leah grinned. “Thanks, Fenni. Could Mara have some too?”
His green eyes twinkled. “You were my first friend at Dragons’ Hold, Leah, so my flowers are just for you.” Fenni’s gaze drifted over Leah’s shoulder.
She turned. Gret was walking by, her long blonde plaits swinging.
“Ah, excuse me.” Fenni made a beeline for Gret.
“He’s nice,” said Mara. “You’re so lucky.” Her gaze followed Fenni. “Do you think he likes Gret?”
As Fenni whisked Gret into his arms, leading her around the dance floor, Leah nodded. “Definitely.”
§
In the corner, sitting on an overstuffed sofa, Giant John nudged Giddi. “See those two?” He waved his goat’s haunch toward Fenni, who was dancing with a tall girl, holding her as if she was fragile. “Maybe there’s hope for riders and wizards after all.”
John had always had an appetite to suit his frame, so Giddi ignored the meat waving about under his nose, and followed John’s gesture. Young Fenni was beaming at his dance partner—an athletic-looking dragon rider with long blonde plaits. She ducked her head shyly then glanced up at him, blushing. Fenni beamed.
“Hope?” Giddi snorted. “So, a rider falling in love with a wizard will make Zens go away?” he said, laying on his sarcasm, especially for John. “And Lars is going to welcome Mazyka back, is he? And the moon has turned a violent shade of pink? Hope, indeed. The only hope we have is in combating Zens’ new threat.”
“Or finding your two young mages.” Giant John speared a potato with his knife and ate it in one bite.
“Zens must’ve taken Sorcha and Velrama for a reason.” Giddi scratched his head. What, though?
Lofty danced by with a short girl in his arms. “Got a great reach, that one,” said Giant John.
“You mean with a sword or with that girl? She’s half his size.”
Giant John sighed in mock exasperation and rolled his eyes.
Truth was, the Queen’s Rider’s hand-fasting reminded Giddi of his own, when he’d been head of the Wizard Council and Mazyka had been his trainee. Although it had been years since Mazyka had been lost through the world gate, his fierce, aching heart had never stopped loving her.
§
Kierion raised his arm so Adelina could twirl under it. As well as being pretty and vivacious, she was as graceful as a swan. He could hardly believe his luck. He’d been sitting there, trying not to stare, because, wow, she looked gorgeous—with her hair up in a knot and a scarlet dress that swirled as she danced, showing off her dark, dark eyes. And tan skin. He cleared his throat, glancing away as she smiled up at him. She’d asked him to dance. He could hardly say no, could he? Not that he’d wanted to say no …
He looked down and met her sparkling eyes. She looked much better than when he’d rescued her in Death Valley. Too good. Kierion sighed. She was still so young.
Adelina twirled again. Kierion pulled her back into his arms. She was so tiny, so compact, yet full of energy. She snuggled her head against his chest.
Shards, Kierion’s bones were melting.
Adelina murmured. He bent his head down to hear her better. “It’s my name day next week and I’ll be sixteen summers,” she said. “Would you spend the day with me?”
Kierion felt a jolt in his gut. Sixteen? He’d thought she was turning fifteen. He swallowed, lost for words.
She laughed at his nervousness, eyes dancing.
“Sure, I’d love to.” Maybe she wasn’t too young for him after all.
§
Tomaaz tightened his grip around Lovina’s waist, pulling her toward him to kiss her as they danced. As their kiss deepened, she pulled away, cheeks warm. She just couldn’t. “Not in front of—”
“Not in front of who?” he grinned, winking.
“Everyone.” Lovina’s cheeks grew hotter.
“Don’t worry,” he said, kissing her again. “They’re all too busy watching Ezaara and Roberto.”
So Lovina kissed him back, enjoying every moment.
§
A horn blew, startling Lars from the story he was telling. Who in the Egg’s name—
He should’ve known. Kierion was on stage—with two mages—Riona behind them. Now that Kierion had everyone’s attention, what was he going to say? Despite his cynicism, Lars waited with bated breath. That lad was always full of surprises.
“I know many of you have welcomed our mages with open arms, like sons and daughters returning from battle,” Kierion said, eliciting a ripple of laughter. “Yes, we’ve been pining to have them here at the hold for years
…” More laughter. “So now we should take advantage of this opportunity.” His voice dropped. The cavern was silent as people strained to hear. Even the musicians stopped playing.
“That’s why I’m letting you in on a secret.” He leaned forward conspiratorially, using an exaggerated stage whisper. “Mages can kill tharuks.”
Kierion, Fenni and Jael whooped and raced to Riona. Kierion leaped up first, the two mages behind him. Riona sprang into the air, flexing her wings. Fenni and Jael leaned out on either side of Kierion as he mimed shooting an arrow from a bow. The wizards weren’t miming, though. Real mage flame shot from their fingers, striking stone high on the cavern walls.
Amid cheers and hollers, Kierion slowed Riona down and landed. “Anyone who wants to kill tharuks with mages, meet us for training before breakfast. With a hundred mages here, we’ll take as many riders as we can get.”
Both blade thrusters and arrow flingers were among those cheering, pushing their way forward as they clambered to talk with Kierion and the two young mages.
“Another new training regime.” Master Jerrick leaned over the table. “We did say he was sharding amazing, didn’t we, Lars?”
§
The music swelled, filling the cavern. Guided by wizards, mage lights zipped between the dancers, in time to the music. Ezaara smiled at Roberto as he whirled her around the cavern. “Your eyes reflect the mage light.”
“Mage light is nothing compared to the magic we’ll have together.” Roberto’s whisper was like the brush of a feather against her ear.
A thrill ran through her, making goosebumps break out on her skin. “I look forward to it.”
Roberto kissed her hair, laughing.
Adelina, dancing with Kierion, sidled alongside them. “Your dress, Ezaara, and the ribbons,” she hissed.
Oh, right. Ezaara had nearly forgotten. She winked at Adelina. “Got it.”
Roberto frowned as they danced away. “Kierion? I mean, really?”
“They suit each other—he’s cute and funny, and she’s so bubbly.”
“Cute? So, that’s cute?” Roberto melded, making Ezaara giggle.
The music wound down, and Lars made an announcement. “Roberto and Ezaara will be leaving us for a week for their hand-fasting holiday. They’ll be traveling tonight, so I suggest we all join them in their last dance. But first, Queen Zaarusha, will you do the honors?”
Zaarusha flew down from a ledge and landed on the cavern floor in front of the stage, near Roberto and Ezaara. She stretched out a talon and cut the ribbons binding their hands. Roberto caught the pieces, tucking them in his pocket.
The gittern player strummed an upbeat piece, and they danced, wheeling, Ezaara’s dress spinning in a colorful whirlwind about her legs. She tugged on her ribbons, loosening them.
“I knew you had matching slippers, but your legs are covered too,” said Roberto. “What are you wearing?”
“This,” she replied, pulling the ribbons, slipping her dress off and flinging it at Roberto.
He caught it, slinging it over his shoulder.
Dressed in her colorful riders’ garb, Ezaara ran up onto the stage and vaulted onto Zaarusha’s back, laughing. Roberto leaped up behind her and waved to the crowd, who cheered, stomped and whistled as Zaarusha flew out of the cavern with Erob following. Ezaara leaned back against Roberto, his warm arms around her waist and his lips trailing kisses in her hair as they broke out into a midnight sky studded with thousands of stars.
§
Thank the flaming dragon gods Ezaara had come into his life. He’d been so bitter, so mistrusting, so broken—and her love had healed him. She was snug and warm in his arms, but the winter wind would soon chill her. Roberto reached into one of Zaarusha’s saddlebags and pulled out some furs, wrapping them around her. “You looked so beautiful tonight. Absolutely radiant. Are you ready to come to Naobia with me and discover the land of my littling years?” He kissed her hair again.
“So that’s where we’re going? I’d love to.”
“Then I’d better hop back on Erob.”
“Have you got Pa’s ring?” she asked.
“Yes. Have you got your ma’s? They’re both from my grandmother. Funny how our families are intertwined, isn’t it?”
Ezaara leaned forward and Roberto shuffled back, swinging his leg over Zaarusha’s side, instantly missing Ezaara’s warmth. “Erob, ready?”
Erob flew below Zaarusha and Roberto slipped off the queen’s back, landing neatly in Erob’s saddle.
“Ana,” he cried.
“Kisha,” called Ezaara.
With a pop, they were surrounded in golden clouds riddled with deep cracks of dark mist. Anakisha floated toward them.
“We’re hand-fasted,” said Ezaara. “Me and your grandson, Roberto.”
“That’s wonderful.” Anakisha addressed Roberto, “I’m sorry Zens found you all those years ago, despite your mother being in hiding. Lucia was a fine daughter, and her blood runs in your veins. I’m proud of you for withstanding Zens and the temptation to use your extraordinary talents for evil. Stay strong and remain true to the realm and the Queen’s Rider.”
Roberto bowed his head and pounded his fist on his heart. “I will, Grandmother.”
“Now let me guess. You want to go back to the cottage in Naobia.”
“Back?” said Ezaara.
“I went there this morning to prepare,” melded Roberto.
With a crack, Zaarusha and Erob were in the warm night air above the black Naobian Sea, tipped with white crests. Roberto breathed in the familiar briny air, the warm breeze rustling the ribbons in Ezaara’s braids.
“Oh, I’d forgotten how good this air tastes,” she said, inhaling deeply. She took off her furs, stowing them in a saddlebag.
They flew along a strip of beach, pale in the moonlight, and Erob alighted behind a small cottage. Zaarusha landed. Roberto lifted Ezaara down into his arms. Gods, he couldn’t wait. He had to kiss her now. He leaned in and she did too. Their noses bumped and she gave a little laugh.
So, he swept her off her feet, carrying her to the door and over the threshold.
§
Ezaara nestled against Roberto as he carried her into a shaft of moonlight drizzling through a window, and lowered her onto a couch.
“Just wait here,” he said, brushing his lips against hers before disappearing out the door.
Just that single brush sent fire through her veins.
A hearth was laid in the corner with a huge rug sprawled before it. Through an archway, there was an enormous bed, draped with canopies of white net. She swallowed. She and Roberto had loved each other for moons, but neither of them had ever …
Roberto entered the cottage with the saddlebags and Ezaara leapt up to help him.
Zaarusha poked her head inside the door. “Enjoy yourselves. Erob and I are going hunting.” She shot a jet of fire at the hearth. The wood ignited, bursting into flame. “Meld if you need anything, but I imagine you’ll be too busy.” She winked, and left them alone.
Ezaara knelt before the blaze. Roberto sat behind her and gathered her hair in his hand, tracing his lips down her neck.
She turned, Roberto’s dark eyes burning into hers, the familiar heat of dragon fire coursing through her veins. As he took her in his arms and kissed her, they created a magic of their own. Sathir swirled around them, dancing with the fire, and the flames crackling on the hearth burned brighter.
Promise
High on a bluff above the beach, Bruno lowered the far-seers and wriggled back on his belly to join his son, Simeon. “I was right,” he said. “The Queen’s Rider and Roberto are down there, dancing on the sand without a care in the world.”
“So that sharding arrogant shrot-heap got the girl,” Simeon snarled. “I should’ve taken her when I had the chance.”
Bruno sniggered. “A fine thing that would be, your seed in the belly of the Queen’s Rider.” He scratched the scraggly beard that had grown since he’d been banished
to the Wastelands. “Good idea, Son. Let’s arrange that. We’ll bide our time—strike when their dragons are gone. When you’ve taken your fill of the girl, she’ll make good shark fodder.”
Simeon grinned, eyes glinting with lust.
Good, that had put a bit of color into his son’s cheeks. Gods knew, they both needed something after that awful orange hell, the tragic raft trip and burying poor Fleur in a shallow grave. Someone had to pay for his wife’s death. Why not Roberto and that snivelly girl?
§§§
Dragon Strike
Prologue
The moon slunk out from behind dark clouds, scattering a broken shaft of silver on the waves crashing against the shore. Bruno held tight to the raft carrying his son and dead wife, kicking through the cursed water to angle it toward the moonlight—although it was hardly a welcoming beacon guiding him home. He tested the depth, his boot barely scraping sand. Fangs and bleeding teeth, it was too deep to gain a foothold. And his legs were so numb it was a miracle he could even feel the ocean floor. He kicked the raft closer to land, so weak his efforts were as pathetic as a littling’s.
His foot struck the ocean floor. And again. He slid off the raft, staggered, and shoved it on the inflowing tide. But as the tide ebbed, dragging the raft out, he stumbled and it hit him, knocking him under the flimsy platform, the ocean’s claws dragging his wife and son back out to sea.
Bruno thrashed, rolled out from under the raft. He swam alongside it and clutched at his son, shaking him awake. “Simeon, help,” he croaked, throat raw and parched.
His son’s bleary eyes fluttered and closed again. Gods, no. Not so close to land, only to lose him too.
A wave crested, splashing Simeon’s face. He stirred.
Bruno shook Simeon again. “We’re here. Help.”
Simeon grunted and slid into the water. They kicked until they were waist-deep. Leaning their backs against the raft holding Fleur, they pushed until they drove the nose of the rickety raft into the sand above the tide’s reach. The front of the raft splintered. Fleur’s arm flopped onto the sand.
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