Riders of Fire Box Set Page 10

  “Thank you, Fleur.” Lars nodded. “You may sit.”

  Fleur remained standing. “It’s terrible she was hurt here, at the hold, where she should be safe.”

  Zaarusha shifted, her talons scratching the stone floor.

  Lars frowned. “Thank you, Fleur.”

  “Will there be steps taken to—”

  A low rumble issued from Zaarusha’s throat.

  Roberto gripped the table so hard his knuckles ached. This was a barely-veiled attack on the Queen’s Rider.

  “I said, thank you.” The tension in Lars’ frame carried a threat.

  Roberto relaxed his grip.

  “Tharuks are harassing our people in the Flatlands,” Lars announced. “Our blue guards are currently holding them at bay, but it won’t be long until Zens starts all-out war.” His voice was gravelly. “We must prepare. Tonio, please report.”

  The spymaster’s gaze flicked over each of the masters. Roberto could’ve sworn it rested a moment longer on him. Tonio had never trusted him. Sure, they’d grudgingly worked together, but Tonio knew the full extent of his father’s treachery, so he’d never given Roberto a chance.

  “There’s not a lot to say,” Tonio barked. “These tharuks seem to be searching for something, but we’re not quite sure what, or who, it is. They’ve burned one village so far. Luckily, only three people lost their lives, but they’ve taken slaves and until they find what they’re looking for, there’ll be more deaths. We must prepare our people for war.” He sat, muttering under his breath, “How we’re going to fight a war with a Queen’s Rider who can’t carry a dinner plate without spraining her ankle is beyond me.”

  Zaarusha thrust her head at Tonio, snarling.

  Erob piped up, “Zaarusha’s saying Tonio should shut up if he wants to keep his insides on the inside.”

  “A shame Tonio doesn’t understand dragon snarl.” Roberto kept his lips from twitching into a smile.

  Tonio leaped to his feet. “With all due respect to the queen, the new Queen’s Rider is inexperienced. It was a metaphor, nothing more.”

  Roberto shifted in his seat. Not a metaphor, and directly aimed at him. Despite flying a loop, Ezaara’s track record at the hold wasn’t good, and he was responsible for training her. It was his fault she’d left the dais. And he’d been present when she’d had that strange accident and injured Sofia.

  Tonio addressed him. “How is the Queen’s Rider’s evaluation going, Roberto? When will she be fit to lead us into battle?”

  Roberto hesitated. They hadn’t finished assessing Ezaara. They’d only tested her imprinting bond, flying and knife-throwing. What if her arrows all flew wide and she didn’t know how to hold a sword?

  “Roberto?” Lars raised an eyebrow.

  Derek, master of instruction, cut in, “It’s hardly fair, Tonio. We haven’t seen her combat skills yet.”

  “She flies well,” Alyssa, master of flight, commented. “Their loop was incredible for such a young imprinting bond. Zaarusha has chosen well.”

  A few nods rippled around the table. Not enough.

  “A battle isn’t won by flying a loop,” Aidan, master of battle, bellowed.

  Unease flickered through Roberto. “Thank you for your solicitous enquiry, Tonio.” He deliberately kept his voice cool. “Ezaara’s ankle is recovering, and her training is improving. I believe—”

  “Improving enough to do what?” Tonio snapped. “Stab her fellow combatants?”

  “I’m sure Ezaara—”

  “Sure?” Tonio barked. “Be careful what you say, Master of Mental Faculties. I always base my claims on evidence.”

  “It was an accident. I was there. I saw how upset she was—”

  “Upset?” Fleur snarled. “She didn’t visit the infirmary last night to check on Sofia. That’s how upset she was.”

  Roberto snapped his jaw shut.

  A meaty palm slapped the granite table. Hendrik bellowed, “What sort of Queen’s Rider doesn’t visit the injured? Especially when it’s her fault!”

  “Well, she visited earlier this morning,” Fleur said hurriedly, “but only briefly, and she fled as soon as Sofia awoke. Not at all what I’d expect of a Queen’s Rider.”

  “I hate to be a harbinger of doom,” Bruno muttered.

  Everyone turned to him.

  “Please go on,” Lars asked the master of prophecy.

  “Well, I …” Bruno glanced at Zaarusha with a wan smile. “With all due respect to our Honored Queen Zaarusha, I had a vision last night. Things don’t bode well.”

  “Go on, Bruno.” Lars’ voice was clipped.

  “I agree, it appears that tharuks are mounting a war, but my vision showed me that when they find what they’re searching for, they’ll retreat back over the Terramite ranges, leaving us in peace.”

  “And how does that bode ill?” Lars asked.

  “It doesn’t,” Bruno answered. “It’s good news. Our need to prepare for war isn’t as urgent as our spymaster suggests. However, another vision showed me troubling news regarding the Queen’s Rider.”

  Zaarusha shifted her weight, making the torches sputter. Then the room was silent, except for the hiss of the queen exhaling.

  “The gift of prophecy is an onerous one.” Bruno sighed, melodramatically. “I fear you may not like my news.”

  He was milking this, as usual.

  “Spit it out, man.” Hendrik slapped his enormous hand on the stone table again. On either side of him, Shari and Fleur flinched.

  Bruno met Lars’ gaze. “The Queen’s Rider will betray us.”

  Zaarusha stood. Her roar juddered through Roberto’s bones.

  “My dear Queen,” Bruno placated, “I cannot help what my gift shows me. To protect you and the realm, it’s my duty to report what I see.”

  Roberto bristled. That whole family was rotten to the core. How dare Bruno accuse the Queen’s Rider of treachery? It insulted Zaarusha’s fitness to rule. It also insulted him—he’d tested her. Ezaara didn’t have a disloyal scale on her hide.

  “No chance of sleeping through this,” Erob muttered. “Almost makes me yearn for boring meetings again.”

  “Our queen is a great dragon,” Fleur added, “but she was lonely and desperate for a new rider. Maybe her judgment was flawed.”

  Bruno shook his head. “The queen is getting older …”

  Zaarusha snarled. Yelling broke out. For the queen. Against her rider. Dragons raised their hackles. Masters leaped to their feet. Roberto ducked as Ajeuria’s tail whipped through the air. Erob rose, beside Zaarusha, yellow eyes glowering at Ajeuria.

  “Silence,” Lars bellowed, cutting through the cacophony.

  Lars placed his hand on Zaarusha’s head. “Our queen commands no more slights on Ezaara. She has chosen her rider. Now, sit down. Everyone. I’m pleased Bruno advises us that war will not come, but however pleasing his prophecy is, we must prepare the Queen’s Rider for battle. Roberto, please answer Tonio’s original question. How long until she’s ready?”

  Roberto had to save face, for himself, for Ezaara, but mostly for Queen Zaarusha. They needed a trained Queen’s Rider—and he’d give them one, if it meant slogging day and night. “She’ll be ready by next moon,” he announced.

  Annoyance flashed across Tonio’s face. “A moon? Ready to fight against tharuks? How? She’s only been here a few days, and she’s had one disaster after another. She’s injured one of our most promising trainees, and you want to turn her loose in battle?”

  “Maybe she’ll injure some tharuks too,” Roberto snapped.

  Lars rapped the table with his gavel. “Roberto, are you sure you can do this?”

  Of course not, but he had to try. “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. If you’re that confident, I’ll give you two weeks, at which time we shall reconvene and evaluate her worthiness as Queen’s Rider.”

  “Yes sir.” Roberto nodded. Dragon’s fangs! How was she ever going to be ready in time?

  §

&nbs
p; “Ezaara! What are you doing here?” Gret crouched, her voice sharp.

  Slumped against the wall halfway between the infirmary and the mess cavern, Ezaara shrugged. “Uh, resting …”

  Gret’s face softened. “It’s your ankle, isn’t it? Where’s your cane?”

  “Simeon said Mathias would bring it back from the field.”

  “Good,” Gret said. “Mathias bunks in the boy’s cavern, along here. I’ll hunt him down.”

  “Thanks.” Ezaara struggled to her feet. She couldn’t put weight on her foot.

  Soon Gret returned, out of breath. “Mathias didn’t have your cane. Says Simeon never asked him to bring it back.”

  “But Simeon—”

  “Forget Simeon,” said Gret. “He has a reputation, you know.”

  Everyone was tough on Simeon. Were they all judging him, the way they were judging her? “Simeon’s been nothing but friendly.”

  “Of course he has.” There was an edge to Gret’s voice. “Your ankle looks worse. What were you doing? Running on it?”

  “I’ll be fine. Just give me a hand, please.”

  Gret supported her along the tunnel, their footsteps echoing off the stone walls. “How are you going to train if you can’t walk?”

  Exactly what she’d been wondering. “Things will work out.”

  “They’re saying you stabbed Sofia on purpose.”

  “It was an accident.”

  “I know that!” Throwing her hands in the air, Gret took a step back, leaving Ezaara unsteady. “I’m loyal to the realm and to you, but not everybody is. We have to combat these vicious rumors or you’ll be put on trial and Zaarusha will lose her rider.”

  “Combat rumors? I’m struggling to walk. I can’t even get back to my den.”

  Gret laughed.

  “What?”

  “Only dragons have dens. Riders have caverns.”

  “I have so much to learn, haven’t I?”

  Voices echoed beyond a bend in the tunnel. “Someone’s coming,” said Gret. “By the Egg, Ezaara, put a smile on your face, or everyone will think you’re guilty.”

  Alban strolled around the corner, deep in discussion with another boy. “I was there.” Alban stabbed a finger in the air. “The blood was horrendous. Poor Sofia.”

  “Ssh, she’s coming,” the boy replied. “She’ll knife you next, if you don’t watch it.”

  “Like to see her try.” Alban’s gaze was steely as he stalked past Ezaara.

  Although she felt like screaming, Ezaara forced a smile as more footsteps sounded around the corner.

  Roberto and Adelina approached.

  “Ezaara!” Adelina hugged her.

  “You’re coming from the infirmary, I take it? Good.” Roberto’s eyes narrowed. “Where’s your cane?”

  “Simeon said Mathias would bring it from the knife-throwing range, but it’s missing.”

  “Simeon?” Roberto’s face tightened. “Leave it to me, I’ll find it.” He strode down the corridor, his boots striking the rock.

  Shards, she’d lost the beautiful cane Roberto had carved for her—his mother’s cane. Ezaara bit her lip, glancing at Adelina guiltily.

  §

  Roberto was astounded. He’d seen it again. When Ezaara had answered him, brilliant color had flashed through him. It was her. The brightness of her intellect, her mental resilience, whatever it was, they had a connection without touching.

  He rushed down the corridor. The tunnels were too stifling, too narrow and confined for emotions this big. He needed to fly. He melded with Erob, “Meet me on the ledge outside the mess cavern.”

  “On my way.”

  Roberto broke into a run. The sooner he had space to think, the better. He took a bolt hole out onto the trails and ran along the goat track on the mountainside. Anakisha and Yanir had been able to mind-meld, so it was possible. But why Ezaara? Did she have a propensity for mind-melding like him?

  He shuddered. He’d paid a terrible price for his skills.

  Above the mess cavern, Roberto vaulted onto Erob’s back. Two steps later, Erob was airborne. Roberto let out a gusty sigh. “Sometimes I think the politics in this place are going to do my head in.”

  “You’re used to the Naobian Sea, the wide open coasts and endless blue. Living in this basin is hard on you.”

  “Not as hard as life in Naobia.”

  Erob coasted over fields of crops. “Those memories will fade soon enough. You have your whole life in front of you. Where to?”

  “The knife-throwing range. That shrotty louse Simeon has hidden Ezaara’s cane.”

  Erob roared, a tremor running through his body.

  Roberto grinned. He felt exactly the same.

  They descended toward the field. In the distance, a green dragon was returning to the caverns.

  “It’s Ajeuria,” said Erob. “The master healer must’ve been foraging for herbs.”

  Roberto dismounted by the targets, scanning the grass. He’d felt Ezaara’s anguish in the corridor; he knew Sofia’s stabbing was an accident, but those keen to discredit the Queen’s Rider were using this to their advantage. His boots tapped something in the grass—Sofia’s lucky blade, crusted with blood. He stuck it in his belt and checked behind the targets. The cane wasn’t there. Where had Simeon put it?

  Erob melded, “They flew off from over there, so perhaps it’s nearby?”

  Roberto searched the bushes, the long grass at the edge of the field, and then scoured the surrounding trees. “What a waste of a morning, and all before breakfast.”

  Erob shot him a mental image of himself: face dirt-smeared, a twig in his hair and grass seed stuck to his jerkin. “All in service to your Queen’s Rider.”

  “All in service to that slimy cockroach who’s furthering his political interests and worming his way into the Queen’s Rider’s trust. Huh!”

  But when Erob shot him the image again, Roberto had to chuckle. He looked a sight.

  “Jealous?”

  “What? Of that creep? Of course not.”

  §

  Roberto found Kierion sharpening his blade against a grindstone. “Kierion.”

  The boy looked up. “Yes, Master Roberto?”

  “I have a challenge for you.”

  Kierion’s face shone as he sheathed his sword. “I’m your man.”

  “The Queen’s Rider’s cane has gone missing.” How could he phrase this delicately? “I believe one of the trainees has played a prank on her.”

  “It wasn’t me, sir.” Kierion’s voice was earnest. “I’d own up if I’d done it. Promise.”

  Roberto chuckled. A true prankster, Kierion was the most inventive of his students. “I’m not here to blame you, but to ask for your help.”

  “So, you want me to find it?”

  “It was last seen at the knife-throwing grounds.”

  Kierion hissed through his teeth. “They’re saying Ezaara knifed Sofia on purpose. I don’t believe it, but I bet that’s why someone hid her stick.”

  Roberto corrected him. “Her cane is ornately carved, much more than a stick, but speculation leads to gossip, Kierion. It’s probably just a joke.” If only. “Let’s go. Erob’s waiting.”

  “Erob!” Kierion grinned. “Wow, I’m definitely in. I’ve never been on a royal dragon before.”

  Roberto had to smile. Kierion’s enthusiasm was catchy.

  As they jumped off the ledge, Kierion let out a whoop. Roberto sighed—so much for searching without anyone noticing. They descended to the grass at the edge of the trees.

  Kierion slid down from Erob, all business. “Where have you already searched?”

  “Throughout the grass, among these trees and in those bushes. It could be anywhere. It might not even be here anymore.”

  Kierion bit his lip. “That’s possible, but there are a few great hiding places around here. Follow me.”

  Traipsing through the trees, they came to a rotting log in the grass. Kierion knelt at one end and peered inside. “Empty. We
’ll try the next spot.” They headed toward a cluster of bushes and tangled vines. Kierion and Roberto lifted up the edges of the vines and poked their swords into the bushes. Still nothing.

  “There’s one more spot, before we search the whole area,” Kierion said. “Have you looked high in branches in case someone tied it in the top of a tree?”

  “I had a cursory look, but nothing that thorough. Erob will scout from above.”

  “If your search wasn’t that thorough, why did you end up with leaves in your hair?” Erob asked.

  “Cheeky dragon,” Roberto melded. “If I admit it, Kierion will show me up.”

  Erob chuckled and, within moments, was airborne, surveying the treetops.

  Kierion took Roberto back toward the field. “We should’ve checked this spot first, but I thought it was too obvious.” He stopped in front of a lightning-struck strongwood tree. “Give me a leg up?”

  Roberto hoisted him up and Kierion’s head and shoulders disappeared into a hole in the trunk.

  “Found something.” His voice was muffled. He pulled his head out. Burnt bits of bark were stuck in his hair and his face was soot-smudged. He yanked Ezaara’s cane from the hollow, grinning. “We did it.”

  Roberto’s breath caught in his throat—the cane was jagged, the shaft broken in half.

  “Shards! Let me have another look.” Kierion reached back into the hollow and fished out the other piece of the cane. He whistled. “That’ll take some fixing.”

  Roberto’s gut was hollow. A whole night’s work, viciously broken. He took the pieces from Kierion, swallowing. “Thanks for finding it.”

  “Wow, look at that handle. Is that Ezaara on Zaarusha? “

  Roberto nodded.

  “Who made it?”

  “I did, when she first hurt herself.” Roberto coughed. “To show respect for the Queen’s Rider.” Warmth crept up his neck. Kierion was bright, but hopefully he wouldn’t notice.

  “Shards! What a way to frost Ezaara. Someone wants to delay her recovery, I’m guessing.”

  Too bright—he’d hit the nail on the head—but at least Kierion was gazing at the cane, not his face.

  “That’s only speculation,” Roberto replied. “It was probably a prank.” He attempted a laugh. “You know all about those.”

  Kierion turned beet red.