The girl swallowed and left the infirmary.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door, and Kierion walked in hastily, his long legs eating the stone floor as he powered toward her. His step faltered, his eyes darting over Seppi. “He’s not going to make it, is he?”
Adelina bit her lip and kept sponging Seppi’s forehead.
“You look fit to drop.” Kierion stepped over to Marlies’ workbench, dropped soppleberries into two cups of water, and took them out to Linaia on the ledge. Moments later, he was back with steaming tea. He passed Adelina a cup. “Have a break and let me take over for a while.” He ran a hand through his hair. “After all, it’s my fault. Without me, he would’ve been back in the saddle.”
Adelina laid her hand on his arm, gazing up at him. Riders teased Kierion about his pretty eyes—ocean-gray flecked with blue—but right now, they were troubled. “Supplies were desperately low already, Kierion. You can’t take full responsibility. We would’ve run out of piaua with the next influx of wounded riders.”
“Thanks. I needed that.” He tilted his head, flashing a smile. “Did you know you’re really pretty?”
“I, ah—” Adelina’s cheeks heated. Well, that was unexpected.
He winked and took the cloth out of her hands. “Now, drink your tea and relax while I look after Seppi.”
She could think of nothing more relaxing than watching Kierion, so she sat at the foot of Seppi’s bed and propped her feet up on a chair.
“He’s burning up.” Kierion wrung a fresh cloth out. “Do you think snow melt would cool him down?”
She shrugged. “Maybe.”
Kierion took another bowl out to the ledge. He soon returned with an icicle, swirling it in the bowl until it melted in the water.
“Let me try.” Adelina set aside her tea and dipped a cloth in the water. “Oh, it’s freezing. Hopefully it helps.” As Kierion laid the cold cloth on Seppi’s head, Adelina sent a silent prayer up to the dragon gods. Please, please heal Seppi. And help Kierion not to feel so guilty. She took a long sip of soppleberry. “So, you’re going to Montanara.”
“I am.” He shrugged. “It was Tonio’s idea.”
“Tonio?” Adelina hadn’t intended her voice to sound so sharp. “What’s it got to do with him?”
“Remember when we were sneaking out to train with Fenni in Great Spanglewood Forest back when consorting with mages was forbidden?”
Adelina nodded. She remembered it all too well. After being attacked by tharuks and injured badly, how could she forget? They’d both been hurt. And it was here in the infirmary she’d first seen Kierion’s tanned chest. Her cheeks heated again. “Yes, I remember it well.” Too well. The sight had stolen her breath.
“Well, Antonika spotted me and Riona sneaking out one morning. Of course she told the spymaster. When Tonio confronted me, I thought I’d be in for another six weeks’ kitchen duty, but instead, he told me I owed him a favor.” Kierion shrugged again. “I guess this is it. Montanara is my home town. I want to help Montanarians beat tharuks, so I’m his man.”
It was Adelina’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Will he give you spy training?”
“He already has. I have to hang out in a tavern in Nightshade Alley.”
“Nightshade Alley?”
He grimaced. “The home of the Nightshaders.”
“Sounds dangerous.” Would he be all right? “What do you make of those dark dragons?” she asked.
Kierion shrugged, tilting his head again. That stubborn lock of blond hair tumbled across his forehead. “Don’t know. I’ve never encountered one. Master Giddi has trained us in mind blocking, though. Just in case.”
Adelina smiled. “Mind blocking isn’t too hard when you get used to it.”
He laughed. “I should’ve expected that from the master of mental faculties’ sister.” Kierion leaned in, staring at her. “Have you ever mind-melded with anyone?”
“Only with dragons.” Adelina sucked in her cheeks. “But guess what?” She couldn’t risk patients hearing, so she scooted her chair over to Kierion’s and leaned in to whisper a secret.
§
The scent of jasmine enveloped Kierion. He inhaled deeply. Adelina’s breath tickled his cheek as she whispered, “Roberto and Ezaara can mind-meld.”
Kierion nearly fell off his chair. “What? I mean, I asked, but I didn’t think…”
Adelina nodded at him. “Neither of them has admitted it. They often look at each other intensely, the way we look when we’re melding with dragons. Sometimes they leave the room, having made some decision without ever discussing it with me. It’s odd, knowing people sitting next to you are having a silent conversation of their own.” Her shoulder touched his.
She was such a gorgeous wee thing. Kierion wanted to scoop her off her chair into his lap and kiss her. Just the thought made his cheeks burn.
§
Adelina stood up and felt Seppi’s forehead. “Still too hot.”
“Should we open the infirmary doors to cool the place down?” Kierion asked.
Adelina gestured at a man in the far corner. “We can’t. That man has a cold in his chest and has to be kept warm. I’ve given Seppi feverweed tea, sponged him—we’ve tried everything. If only Marlies were here.”
“What about Ezaara. Is she back yet?”
Adelina’s stomach twisted. Why weren’t her brother and Ezaara home yet? What could have happened to delay them on their hand-fasting holiday? She kept her voice bright. “No, she and Roberto aren’t back yet.”
Seppi’s body started shaking, his limbs twitching and spasming.
“What’s wrong with him?” Kierion asked.
“He’s got the rigors. His fever’s too high. We have to get his temperature down immediately.”
“Shall we take him out to the ledge? It’s cold out there.”
Would the cold harm Seppi or help him? Adelina had no idea, but either way, they had to do something. Numbly, she nodded.
Kierion flung the bowl and cloth aside and cradled Seppi in his arms, careful not to wrench his stitches. They rushed outside, their boots crunching through the snow. It was freezing. Kierion stood there, shoulders bowed, holding Seppi against his chest. “Sorry, Seppi,” he muttered. “I’m sorry I was so clumsy.”
Seppi opened his eyes and raised his hand to Kierion’s cheek. “Thank you, my boy. You have a good heart.” His eyes slid closed, his chest spasmed. Then he was still.
Thank the First Egg, his rigors had stopped. “Kierion, your idea worked. Now, we’d better—”
“Seppi?” Kierion bowed his head over Seppi’s face. “Adelina, come check.”
Adelina gazed up at Kierion’s panic-stricken eyes. She placed her fingers to Seppi’s throat. No pulse. “He’s gone.” She placed her hand on his chest. No movement. “Oh, gods,” she sobbed, “what have we done?”
§
Kierion stared at Seppi’s face, his closed eyes, slack face. One moment, Seppi had been there, touching Kierion’s face, speaking. The next, he was gone. Gods, one breath was the difference between life and death. For the hundredth time that week, Kierion cursed his overeagerness. His impulsive nature was always getting him into trouble. What had driven him to do such a stupid thing? He thought he’d learned his lesson when Adelina had been injured by tharuks, but no, he always leaped, again and again, without thinking.
His chest constricted, making it hard to breathe. He stood in the snow, numbness stealing through his body.
There was a gentle touch on his arm. Adelina. He’d forgotten she was still here. “I’m sorry,” she said, her dark eyes lined with tears.
“So am I,” he whispered hoarsely.
She placed a hand at the small of his back and leaned in against him. “Come on, let’s get him inside.”
Kierion would have gladly stood out here all night in the snow if it would help Seppi.
Had the cold killed him?
Would Seppi have survived if he hadn’t intervened? The lump in K
ierion’s throat was like a chunk of ice. He couldn’t swallow. Nodding, he let Adelina guide him inside and laid Seppi on his sweat-drenched bed.
“Kierion, can you help me?” Adelina’s huge dark eyes were pleading. Her hands were shaking.
He got it. He understood. It was one thing to see riders bleed out in battle, but to hold someone as they died…
Oh gods, was this reminding her of her mother’s death at her father’s hands? He forced some strength into his voice. “Yes, of course, what would you like me to do?”
She cleared her throat. “His family are on their way. Perhaps it’d be a good idea to move him to a fresh bed.”
“Sure.”
Adelina flipped back the bedding on the next bed. He carried Seppi over and laid him on the fresh white sheets.
She produced a new shirt and riders’ jerkin. “His family left these in case he needed them.” She choked on her words.
Kierion placed an arm around her shoulders. He couldn’t help it, he hugged her. He’d been such a fool, lamenting his stupidity. He’d forgotten about her, how she must be feeling, having a patient die under her care.
§
That night, Kierion tossed and turned, hardly able to sleep. It’d been the middle of the night when he’d finally stumbled to bed, avoiding Seppi’s family at the infirmary. Even a long flight and a run along the edge of the lake hadn’t helped ease the heaviness in his chest and his stinging eyes. He flung back his covers, rolled out of bed and shoved his clothes and boots on. There was only one place to go this late. He trudged down the stone tunnels toward the mess cavern, his footfalls echoing hollowly against the stone walls like an angry heartbeat.
A heartbeat that Seppi no longer had.
He swiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, dashing away the stubborn tears that’d leaked from his eyes. Flame it, flame it, flame it! There was nothing he could do, nothing he could fix. Everything he’d touched was broken. And now Seppi was gone.
“Not everything,” melded Riona from outside on their ledge. “I’m not broken. You also helped Ezaara save Zaarusha from poison. You’ve helped train mages and bridge the long-standing gulf between mages and riders. You’ll be a valuable asset in this war.”
“Thank you.” Swallowing hard, Kierion took a few deep breaths and entered the deserted mess cavern. A cauldron of soup simmered on the hearth, a welcome snack for riders on patrol.
After barely eating all day, he was famished. He ladled himself a cup of soup, took a handful of bread rolls and sat in a corner in the dark. Rumors had already been running rife through the hold since Seppi had died. Riona had heard dragons mentioning his name as riders’ whispers echoed down the tunnels.
He sighed. He’d have to avoid everyone until he went to Montanara. Hopefully it would blow over soon enough. Not the memory of Seppi, though. He deserved to be remembered.
Famished, he plunged his bread into his soup. It was sawdust in his mouth. It was no use, he’d have to face the other riders sooner or later.
The door to the mess cavern creaked open. Kierion ducked deeper into the shadows, hunching over his soup.
It was Adelina, with tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes.
She helped herself to a bowl of soup and sat at a table on the other side of the mess cavern. She stirred her spoon around and around in her bowl then dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Here he was again, forgetting about her, buried in his own mess of feelings. Maybe she needed time alone...
No, he couldn’t sit here watching her sob. Kierion unfolded his legs from under the table and strode over to Adelina, plonking his cup and bread rolls on her table.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked softly. Gods, his hands were shaking, his heart perched on a precipice, ready to tumble off at a moment’s notice.
Adelina dropped her spoon. “Oh, I, just, just…” she gasped.
“Do you need to talk?” he asked.
“It’s just that…”
He sat and covered her tiny hand with his large, clumsy one. “Are you remembering your mother?”
She nodded, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“And my father,” she said.
Adelina was always bright and cheery. After all she’d been through, he should have known she was hiding dark feelings.
“The worst thing is, I don’t know if…” She broke off, gazing at him, her dark eyes pools of tears.
“What is it?” He wanted to help, not mess up.
She dried her eyes and tucked her handkerchief away. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” She gave a short sharp nod.
What had changed? A moment ago, she’d looked so open.
She stared at the stone wall, silent.
He squeezed her hand. “Sometimes it really does help to talk, Adelina.”
She didn’t reply. She tugged her hand away from his and took a sip of soup.
“Are you really sure?” he asked.
Adelina’s spoon slammed into her bowl with a clunk, spraying soup over the table. “Flame you, Kierion. The worst thing is I don’t know if we killed Seppi by taking him out into the snow.” Her chair rasped as she stood, glared at him, then stalked out of the mess cavern.
§
Adelina pounded down the corridor toward her cavern, boots striking stone. Heart thundering.
Kierion was right. Seeing Seppi lying dead in his arms had awakened her memories of Ma’s death—and more. It had roused all the sleeping horrors from her past: her father’s raging storms behind the kitchen door; the thud of Ma’s body hitting the wall, of Pa’s boots kicking Ma’s belly; blood streaming down Roberto’s face; Ma crying bloodied tears the day Pa had gouged her eye; the pain of her father beating her with his fists; her screaming as Roberto intervened...
And worse. The awful day Roberto had disappeared, taken by tharuks. But it hadn’t been tharuks. Her father had given her brother to the enemy.
Commander Zens had broken something inside Roberto. Not the way he’d broken her father. Roberto hadn’t become nasty. No, but he’d become distrustful. Distant. Closed. And his awful screams of terror in the night. His sobs through the bedroom walls...
She shuddered.
And even worse. One day Roberto had come home with Ma cradled in his arms because she could no longer walk. The slow moons of them nursing Ma, hoping for recovery, but knowing in their hearts that her time was near.
The only relief—thank the First Egg—was that Pa had died.
When Ma had spasmed in pain then finally drifted into endless slumber, Adelina’s dam of grief had burst.
And so had Roberto’s. He’d snapped. Disappeared again.
During all Pa’s years of horror, Roberto had held everything together. He’d been Adelina’s mainstay. The big brother she could lean on. Then he was gone. Her entire family, gone.
Adelina had thrashed and churned, sucked into a sea of sadness. Waves of sorrow had crashed over her, threatening to drown her.
And tonight, Kierion’s heartbreak, holding Seppi exactly how Roberto had held Ma, the tears on his cheeks and desolation in his eyes... She’d seen her brother all over again.
Her trusty smile and bright demeanor—the fortification she’d built up for years—had crumbled.
Memories bashed at Adelina’s head, trying to take root, to engulf her, suffocate her. She reached her cavern and thrust open her door, wood smacking stone, then slammed it shut. Adelina leaned her back against the solid wood and slid down the door onto the floor, sobbing.
Weasels
“Matotoi’s tired,” said Amato, slumped over Erob’s neck in front of Roberto as they flew north toward Dragons’ Hold. “He needs to rest his wings.”
They were only an hour’s flight from Naobia. Roberto rolled his shoulders. After dealing with people incensed with Amato all of the previous day and most of this one, he was exhausted, too. He melded with Erob, “We’ll need to land soon.”
“Matotoi has already told me,” Erob replied. “What about that meadow?”
“As good a spot as any.”
“There’s no point in traveling much farther tonight,” Erob said. “We’ll only tire him more. Hopefully, after a rest, he’ll do better tomorrow. Perhaps we could stay in our old cave?”
“The jewel beetle cave? Good idea, it’s close by.” Roberto sighed. They would’ve been back at the hold last night instantaneously with Anakisha’s rings—if Bruno hadn’t taken Ezaara’s ring, and he and Ezaara hadn’t found Amato. Hopefully, nothing dire had happened while they were gone. Perhaps he should nip back to the hold with his ring and check…
No, he didn’t want to leave Ezaara, not on their hand-fasting holiday. Not with his father.
Once they’d landed, Roberto helped his father off Erob and strode into the bushes to relieve himself, keeping a wary eye on Amato.
His father sat near Ezaara, his back to Roberto, while she unpacked food onto a blanket. The old man’s voice was a murmur on the breeze. What was he up to? Roberto finished up and hurried back.
Amato was holding a bunch of bluebells out to Ezaara. “My respected, honored Queen’s Rider, you know, when Roberto was young, he used to love these flowers.”
That shrotty weasel. Roberto ground his teeth. Amato was worming his way into Ezaara’s confidence by chatting about Roberto’s littling years—the very years he’d destroyed. Roberto gritted his teeth as he stomped back toward them. There was no way he was going to let his walls down around this man.
He melded with Ezaara, “Don’t trust him. He’s trying to impress you, show you what a loving father he was. But I’ve shown you what he did to me.” Roberto shuddered. This man had poisoned his past.
“I know, Roberto. You don’t have to remind me.” There was an irritated edge to Ezaara’s voice.
Did she think his father had changed? Did she believe he could redeem himself?
Roberto snatched the flowers from his father, dropped them to the grass, and ground them under his boot. “From hiding in Zens lair, to lurking in caves, and now, smelling flowers.” He spat on the ground at his father’s feet. “Keep your distance from the Queen’s Rider. It’s my job to protect her. And I won’t hesitate if I need to.” His hand drifted to his sword hilt. He shot daggers at his father with his eyes.
Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures Page 107
