His thoughts flitted to Tonio, the spymaster who’d died at Mage Gate. Taliesin had told him that Tonio had saved Marlies by taking an arrow for her. Even though the spymaster had borne a grudge against Roberto’s father and hated Roberto, in an odd twist of fate, Tonio had bought Marlies enough time to save Ezaara’s life. In battle, the actions of many were woven into a complex tapestry.
“I think we should celebrate. How about a dance?” Ezaara asked. “They’re expecting us to.”
“Someone’s always going to expect us to do something.”
“Well, I am the Queen’s Rider.”
“And don’t I know it.” He could still see the terrified waif who’d trembled before the roaring dragons of the dragon council, moons ago, when she’d first arrived at Dragons’ Hold. She’d faced down every one of them, despite her fear. And gone on to surprise everyone, time and time again, as she mastered the necessary skills to be the best Queen’s Rider she could be. She still surprised him most days.
“Come on,” Ezaara said, getting up and pulling him to his feet. “Let’s dance.”
And as Roberto took Ezaara in his arms, and held her close, he had to admit, it was a great idea.
§
“So, Mazyka’s daughter?” Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Fenni jabbed Jael in the ribs.
Next to Fenni, Gret grinned. “Go on, Jael, tell us all about her.” She swung a blonde braid over her shoulder.
Although Jael’s cheeks were heating, he ignored their jibes. The sooner he got this over with, the better. Serana would be back at any moment, and he didn’t want her embarrassed by his friends’ nosiness. “Her name’s Serana,” he said matter-of-factly. “She happened to heal my gut injury. I’ve flown on her dragon a few times, just like I fly with Kierion or Tomaaz. That’s all there is to it.”
Fenni winked. “Yes, we noticed that.”
Jael frowned. “What?”
“You, on her dragon.” Fenni’s grin nearly split his face.
Gret arched an eyebrow, going in for the kill. “We also noticed you were sitting rather close. Closer than most dragon riders and mages sit when they’re flying together.” She leaned back and snuggled into Fenni, as if to demonstrate how close two people could actually get.
Was it that obvious? Jael snorted, feeling his blush deepen. Thank the First Egg it was dark. Maybe he should slip off and encourage Serana to take him for a flight now. Anything to get away from Fenni and Gret’s embarrassing questions.
Oh gods, Serana was making her way over now, two glasses of apple juice in her hands. He couldn’t take his eyes off her—the way she moved in those strange clothes from her world, her red hair ablaze with color as it glinted in the firelight. That magical smile. Oh, he was a goner.
Serana approached the table, and Jael took the glasses from her. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.
The smile that lit her face was brighter than any bonfire. “I never thought you’d ask.”
He placed his arm around her waist, and glanced over his shoulder at Fenni and Gret, calling, “If you think that was close, then watch this.” He led Serana over to the dancers.
“What was that about?” she asked.
He shrugged.
“Go on.”
So Jael took a gamble. “They’re teasing me for sitting too close when I ride with you on your dragon. It’s just idle gossip.”
“Is it?” She grinned, eyes blazing. “Let’s give them something else to gossip about.”
The bonfire crackled, and the drumbeats pulsed through them as Jael took Serana’s hand and whirled her among the throng of dancers.
§
Fenni turned to Gret, gesturing at Jael and Serana, who were whirling through the crowd with huge grins on their faces. “That looks like fun. Want to try?”
Gret took his hand, her braid glistening like honey in the torchlight as she led him over to the dancers. She ducked her head shyly. “Do you realize that we haven’t danced since Roberto and Ezaara’s hand-fasting ceremony?”
Fenni’s eyebrows shot up. “We haven’t?” He took her warm hands in his. “That’s a terrible mistake. We’d better make up for that, tonight.”
They swayed and moved in time to the music, getting faster as the crescendo built, and as Gret whirled and spun, her face radiant with joy, Fenni vowed he’d dance with her every day.
Kierion swept past, Adelina in his arms, and winked.
Fenni had to grin. Adelina was so short, she only came up to Kierion’s chest. What was Kierion up to now?
His friend lifted Adelina right off the ground as he spun her.
Gret sighed and leaned her head against Fenni’s shoulder, making his bones melt.
“You know,” she said, “sometimes I wish I was short and petite, like Adelina.”
“Really?” Fenni gaped. “Why?”
“I don’t know, just because…”
“But you’re beautiful the way you are.” He slipped his arms around her and let a little mage power trickle through his hands, just enough to keep her warm. “You’re tall and fit and strong, and a great swordswoman, and I’d like to dance with you all night.”
“Really?” Her eyes shone.
“Mmm hmm.” He nodded. “Every night.”
The smile that Gret gave him lit up the night sky.
§
Tomaaz held his arm up as Lovina whirled underneath, then he pulled her close, murmuring in her ear, “So what do you think of your new cousin?”
Lovina smiled, her blue eyes alight with wonder. “I’m just happy to have family again. Happy we freed the slaves. Happy to have you.”
Tomaaz grinned. “I feel exactly the same.” He twirled her around again.
And again.
And again.
Until Lovina was laughing, her head thrown back and her face radiant with happiness.
§
After all these years, she was in his arms again. A tendril of mage power sizzled from Mazyka’s palms through Giddi’s shoulder. He laughed. Gods, it was good to have his wife back. “So,” he said, “did you dance in that other world?”
“Not once,” Mazyka said. “There was no one I wanted to dance with.” She grinned and flung her hands above her head. Blue mage flame surged from her fingers, exploding into a shower of blossoms.
Giddi tossed out sparks that turned into green birds, flapping above the heads of the dancers.
Dancing nearby, young Master Jael and Fenni joined in. Fenni’s mage lights zipped above the crowd like tiny green fireflies. Jael conjured up green dragonets that flitted between the rooftops.
Mazyka nudged Giddi. “What do you think of those two?” She tilted her head toward Jael, who was dancing with their daughter Serana—a daughter Giddi hadn’t even known about until two days ago.
Giddi grinned and pulled Mazyka closer. “I hope they hold each other tightly,” he said. “And never let go.”
“So do I.” Mazyka’s dark eyes roamed his face, lit by dancing flames of the bonfire, and Giddi knew they weren’t talking about Jael and Serana at all.
§
Giant John waved a haunch of goat toward the dancers, who were silhouetted by the roaring bonfire. “So, what will you do now, Hans?”
Hans shrugged and watched the young ones dance, the way he had danced many times with Marlies when they were young. It was like having an anvil on his chest, this grief—missing her. Her laugh, the quick flick of her turquoise eyes, the sparkle in them whenever she saw him, the warmth of her touch. He’d known this was coming, sooner or later, had been trying to stave off the truth—that she was dying and had been since the piaua berries she’d taken in Death Valley. It was ironic that those berries had been grown in Lush Valley, their home for eighteen years of relative peace. Eighteen years of hiding who they really were. Eighteen years of preparing Ezaara and Tomaaz for the roles they’d just played in saving the realm.
He watched Roberto lead Ezaara from the dance floor to a table in the corner, where Ithsar, the quiet but remarka
ble orange-robed assassin, was sitting.
Hans knew Ezaara had been down in that clearing with Giddi. He’d sensed her, masked by an invisibility cloak, lending her mental strength and sathir to Giddi to open the world gate. Without Ezaara, the whole realm would’ve been turned into a desolate wasteland.
And so he was glad Marlies had given her life for his daughter. That Ezaara could now dance with Roberto and lead their people in peace.
But it didn’t stop the pain. The hurting. The anger at losing his wife.
Or the numbness that sometimes stole over him, deadening everything inside him, so he didn’t have to feel anymore.
He considered Giant John’s question. What would he do now, without her? “I’m not sure, John, but I’d like it to be something that honors Marlies.”
Giant John cocked his head, his goat haunch raised in the air as if he was about to club someone with it, not take a bite. “Did you know that when Taliesin and Leah brought piaua juice back from the brown guards in the North, they also brought seedlings? Hundreds of tiny piaua seedlings.”
Hans raised his brows. He hadn’t known that. Hadn’t really taken much in at all since his wife’s death. When Marlies had been injured, the two young ones had gone north in search of the life-giving juice for her. As Master Healer, she’d relied on the juice to heal their wounded riders and dragons. Someone would have to tend to those seedlings, grow and nurture them. “Now that might be worth thinking about,” Hans said.
“I think it would,” said Giant John, finally taking a bite.
§
Katrine was sitting at a table at the edge of the square, watching Hana and a handsome blue guard dancing.
Kisha made her way past the dancers to Katrine’s table. “How are you doing?” she asked.
Katrine shrugged, dabbing at her eyes with a kerchief. “I miss Kadran.”
She gestured at Hana and her dance partner. Their gazes were locked upon each other, and their movements were not in time to the music, but to an inner rhythm that no one else could hear. Hana tipped back her head and smiled, then rested her cheek on the blue guard’s chest. He stroked her hair and whispered something that made her laugh.
“At least they’re happy,” Katrine said, dabbing her eyes again.
Kisha squeezed Katrine’s hand. “What will you do now?”
“I don’t know,” Katrine replied. She smiled. “But I’ll find something.”
Kisha hesitated. Heart pounding, she asked, “How would you like to run the Lost King inn?”
You’ll know when the time is right.
Katrine stared at her, gaping. A few heartbeats later, she asked, “What will you do?”
Kisha tilted her head, gazing around the square at the happy, battle-worn faces. “I’m not sure,” she said, “but I think it’s time for an adventure.”
§
After dancing with each of her new family members, her skin nearly exploding with joy, Kisha slipped away from the revelry, down the alley to the courtyard at the back of the Lost King inn. Kishanna was curled up on some hay in a corner outside the stables.
“You’re ready for your first flight, now, aren’t you?” Her dragon’s golden eyes were lit with an inner fire.
Kisha gazed into those beautiful, warm golden eyes. “Yes, I am,” she said.
She hadn’t thought it was possible for a dragon to raise an eye ridge, but somehow it looked as if Kishanna was doing exactly that. Kisha laughed and flung her arms around her dragon’s neck. Kishanna tucked her head over Kisha’s shoulder, snuffing warm breath over her. She crooked a hind leg, and Kisha clambered up the smooth scales and rippling muscle onto Kishanna’s back. She slid into Nila’s old saddle.
“You know, for a long time, I believed that everyone I loved would die. Nila was the last in a long line of people I cared about. Even Kadran, who only helped me for a few hours, was killed. Before that, my parents, my friends…”
“And now?” the dragon rumbled.
“Now, I’m surrounded by people I love or can grow to love.”
“Good,” Kishanna answered. A wave of love so sweet that Kisha could taste it, washed over her. “Are you ready?”
“I am.”
Kishanna tensed her haunches and leaped above the stables and the courtyard, circling over the square. Below, Kisha’s family and friends were dancing, the bonfire’s flames casting a glow over their wheeling cavorting figures.
The faint rhythm of drumbeats and the high trill of a flute accompanied Kisha and Kishanna as they flew over the village, and out over the fields beyond. Moonlight glinted off Kishanna’s scales, making them shimmer with jade, emerald, and silver. Kisha unbound her braid and shook her head, the wind tugging its icy fingers through her hair. But Kisha didn’t care about the chilly wind. Inside she was warm and glowing, the fire of new adventure in her veins.
§
Ithsar leaned back in her chair and stretched as the music and heat from the bonfire swirled around her. The sathir of the people wended its way among the dancers in a bright tapestry, rich with color. The mages were playful tonight. Tiny birds made of green mage flame zipped between the dancers, chased by green dragonets, and blue blossoms shot above the crowd, with fireflies darting among them. Ithsar hadn’t ever seen anything like it.
A voice broke through her thoughts. Someone was mind-melding with her and it wasn’t Saritha. “Ithsar, you did a valiant job.” It was a rich, deep voice steeped with wisdom.
She cast about, but couldn’t tell who was speaking in her head. “Who are you?”
“Look a little further.”
Her eyes roved across the dancers. Master Giddi, the dragon mage, was watching her, his keen eyes steadfastly upon her as he swayed with his daughter Serana in his arms.
Well, that was a surprise. “They said you could mind-meld at will, but I wasn’t expecting this.”
He smiled as he danced. “You did admirably. Although I was trapped within Zens’ thrall, I saw the wings of green guards and sea dragons that you brought with you. They turned the tide of the battle. Without you, we would’ve lost long before I opened the world gate and let Mazyka through. I thank you and honor you.”
His praise was unexpected. A shock. “I bring you greetings from Queen Aquaria.”
His eyes crinkled as he smiled over Serana’s shoulder. “Give her my greetings too, when you next see her.”
“I’m sorry, she was murdered by an unruly, hateful assassin.” Ithsar shared her memory of Izoldia’s treachery.
“That saddens me. I met her years ago when she was a dragonet.”
“She said you saved her life. She was still grateful.”
“As people will be to you, for many years to come.”
Serana spoke to the dragon mage and he broke mind-meld, sending a plume of mage flame butterflies into the air to dance around Ithsar.
Next to Ithsar, Roberto’s arm around her shoulders, Ezaara grinned. “Let me guess, Master Giddi?”
Ithsar shrugged. “It seems he’s happy I came to help.”
“As we all are. So, what are your plans?” Roberto asked. “Now that Ashewar is gone, and your women have imprinted, will the sea dragons go with you to live at the oasis? I mean, it’s not as if you can live underwater.”
Goren put down his ale and cleared his throat. “I’ve been thinking about that,” he said.
Ithsar nearly fell off her chair. “You have?”
He nodded sagely. “The Scarlet Hand and his pirate crews have been raging upon the Naobian Sea for years. We could use your help in keeping the seas a safe place for ships.”
Ezaara raised her eyebrows. “That’s well worth thinking about.” She nudged Roberto. “Tell Ithsar about the time you fought the Scarlet Hand.”
Roberto ran a hand through his dark hair. “It wasn’t the Scarlet Hand himself, just one of his pirate ships—nonetheless, just as fierce. They attacked us when we were sneaking into Death Valley.” He shook his head at Goren. “That’s no mean feat you’re ask
ing of her, but I’m sure Ithsar and the Robandi assassins are up to the task.”
“I’m not sure what we’ll do,” Ithsar replied. “I’ll have to talk to my sisters.” She watched the whirling orange robes of her assassins as they danced to the wild, bucking music—a different dance than the dance of the ancient Sathiri, but one that suited them just as well. Misha was graceful, her robes swirling around her as she danced with a green guard, her eyes alight.
Stefan appeared, cheeks pink and chest heaving. He bowed and held a hand to Ithsar. “My most revered Chief Prophetess, would you care to dance?”
Ithsar smiled and took his hand. “I would like that, thank you.”
Stefan whirled her across the cobbles amongst the throng of joyous, dancing people.
“One moment, I have something to give you.” Ithsar pulled him aside and took the wrapped smashed chocolate out of her pocket. She passed it to him.
Stefan opened the wrapping and popped the chocolate in his mouth. He stuffed the cloth back in his pocket and bowed. “And I have something for you.” He tugged a cloth, decorated with orange and gold butterflies, out of his jerkin. “For my new best friend.”
Ithsar stared at him. “For me?” She opened the cloth to reveal a dragon-shaped chocolate. “Oh, it’s too pretty. I couldn’t possibly eat it.”
“I think you should. It’s orange-flavored.” He gestured at her robes, then the bonfire. “Besides, if you don’t, it’ll melt.”
Ithsar broke the chocolate in half and grinned. “For my new best friend.”
Stefan chuckled and ate his half.
The sweet chocolate and tart orange made Ithsar’s taste buds explode.
Stefan grabbed her hand and tugged her into the throng.
The drumbeats throbbed through her feet, her bones, her heart. The flute made her veins sing with magic. Stefan laughed, pulled her close and flung her out to whirl with the dancers. Sathir swirled around them, rich and vibrant and full of life. And Ithsar knew the future was bright, and that she and her Robandi assassins would soon be dancing to a different tune. Their own tune.
§§§
More Riders of Fire Adventures
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