Riders of Fire Complete Series Box Set books 1-6: YA Epic Fantasy Dragon Rider Adventures

by Eileen Mueller

  “Shards, he’s a creep,” Roberto melded. “Always has been. I’m glad he’s leaving.”

  “Did he really force himself upon that girl?”

  Roberto’s face was grim. “They never proved it, but ask Gret. Trixia was her best friend.”

  Lars dismissed the onlookers, who—some bandying insults about Simeon’s family—trailed out the door.

  Drumbeats boomed beneath Ezaara’s feet. Banishment drums. She remembered Roberto’s hateful expression and her horror at him murdering Jaevin.

  “Oops, you shared that memory,” he said.

  “Sorry.” Ezaara shuddered. “Banishment drums are always going to remind me of you being sent away.”

  “To save you, I’d do it again, in a heartbeat.”

  “Let’s stay together instead.”

  “Sure, right after we’re done here.” A rush of heat accompanied Roberto’s words, making her blush.

  Tonio’s keen gaze sharpened, flitting between her and Roberto.

  When the crowd had dispersed and only the council were in the room, Lars spoke. “This has been a difficult time. I’m glad Master Roberto and our Honored Queen’s Rider have returned. We welcome Ezaara to our council. With two dead and two banished, we’re now four masters short. Ezaara, would you mind overseeing the infirmary until we replace Fleur?”

  “Yes, Lars, it would be my pleasure.”

  “Please urgently identify any poisons and antidotes. Fleur may have destroyed valuable remedies, so you’ll need to build up supplies. I’ll assign people to help.” He glanced around. “Derek, as master of instruction, you’ll take over Swordmaster Jaevin’s duties until we have a replacement.”

  “Of course,” Derek answered.

  “Master Shari had several assistants, so I’ll let them oversee her activities for now. Unfortunately, we have no one suitable to take the role of master of prophecy, so that post will have to remain empty.” Lars’ throat bobbed. “I am deeply saddened to lose two esteemed masters, as I’m sure we all are. Please comfort our riders and take care of our people.”

  Tonio nodded. “Zens has infiltrated our council once. He’ll try to do it again. Report anything suspicious to me immediately.”

  “Any further questions?” Lars asked.

  Everyone was too numb to say much, so Lars dismissed them.

  Ezaara was bone-weary. “Roberto, I’m so glad this is over. I could sleep for a week.”

  “Later. Meet me in the orchard.” Fire accompanied his words, leaping into her veins. Roberto’s onyx eyes burned away her fatigue.

  “See you there.” Ezaara swept out the door upon the waves of drumbeats, Roberto at her side.

  §

  It’d been a long day, but there was more work to do. Lars put his gavel away and stood. He needed to see Shari’s assistants. As the last of the masters drifted out of the room, Tonio sidled up to him.

  “Come with me, there’s something you need to see. Urgently.”

  Within a heartbeat, Lars was striding after Tonio to the landing outside. How could the sun shine so brightly over the basin when his heart was filled with sorrow? Two masters dead. Two more banished. And a royal dragon that might not recover from swayweed. “What is it, Tonio?”

  “Look.” He gestured toward Roberto on Erob, and Ezaara on Zaarusha, high above Dragon’s Teeth. “Tell me what you see.”

  “Two highly skilled riders, but we knew that.” Lars turned away.

  “Look again.”

  Ezaara sat low on Zaarusha, Roberto mimicking her position on Erob. Simultaneously, both dragons swooped to the east, then spiraled down toward the orchard, replicating each other’s movements with exact timing, as if attached by a giant piece of string.

  “Have you seen dragons fly in such tight formation before?” The intensity of Tonio’s voice made his spine prickle.

  That’s what he meant. Nodding, Lars replied. “Only two couples.”

  “Couples. Who?”

  “Yanir and Anakisha, of course.”

  “And?” Tonio pressed.

  Lars sighed. “Hans and Marlies. But that doesn’t mean these two are mind-melding. Erob and Zaarusha are mother and son. Their bond is strong.”

  Tonio just arched an eyebrow.

  “All right, so the riders might be melding, but that doesn’t mean they’re romantically involved.”

  “Blushing at each other in a council meeting isn’t adequate evidence either, but the law is the law.”

  “Tonio, she’s practically qualified,” Lars warned. “We can’t afford to lose another master, especially not the master of mental faculties and imprinting. Not when we need to perform mental tests on every newcomer to Dragons’ Hold.”

  “Understood.”

  “This is one of those times when your suspicions must not result in action.”

  Tonio’s gaze was stony. “Do I have to remind you of the only other couple that could mind-meld?”

  Giddi and Mazyka—two of the most powerful mages the realm had ever seen.

  “Mazyka was seventeen—like Ezaara,” Tonio continued.

  Impulsive and talented, Mazyka had quickly grown power-hungry and had encouraged her master to use his power in forbidden ways, nearly destroying Dragons’ Realm.

  Lars sighed. “Very well. Keep an eye on them, but do it yourself, not via one of your spies. Discuss your findings only with me.”

  “Will do.”

  “And Tonio,” Lars cautioned, “Roberto is innocent of his father’s crimes. This had better not be about you getting even with Amato.”

  Tonio’s face tightened.

  Lars shook his head and strode away.

  §

  Flying with Ezaara and Zaarusha was glorious. Every wing dip, each swoop and turn of their downward spiral were in harmony. Ezaara’s laugh unfurled a coil inside Roberto that he’d held tight for years. Colors shot through him in a thousand tiny bursts.

  He laughed too.

  “So, you’ve finally found someone you can meld with, who loves you for yourself,” Erob said. “Someone you can trust.”

  “I had no idea I could feel so happy. It’s amazing.”

  “Caution, Roberto, you’re both subject to the laws of the council.”

  “As if I could forget.”

  They spiraled down among the trees, the air sweet with the scent of ripe peaches. Erob descended to the grass, his legs bunching to soften the impact. Within moments, Roberto was racing to meet Ezaara. When they were barely an arm’s length apart, they stopped, staring at each other.

  Her eyes were green sea foam at dawn, churning with power and emotion. Her face was awash with tenderness. What had he done to deserve her?

  She smiled. “You’re you.”

  He swept her into his arms, burying his face in her hair and inhaling deeply. Light burst through him. This was so right.

  §

  Ezaara felt so alive. Every fiber of her being was singing. Roberto enfolded her in his arms, his onyx eyes full of wonder. The world shifted. This was where she belonged, right here.

  “I’m glad Zaarusha chose you,” Roberto’s breath caressed her neck, making her skin tingle. He traced her cheek with gentle fingers, and tilted her chin. “I love you, Ezaara, and always will.”

  His lips brushed hers. Gods, they were so soft.

  Ezaara slid her fingers into his hair and tugged him closer. “And I love you too.” And then, she was kissing him back, her lips against his, millions of stars exploding inside her, shimmering with liquid light.

  And then a strange thing happened.

  The sathir, dancing around them—a myriad of colors from her, and midnight blue shot with silver from him—merged. At first, her colors swirled around his, then the blue seemed to absorb them, lightening and pulsing until they formed one river of brilliant light.

  Fire roared through Ezaara and images flitted through her—from him, from her—weaving in harmony, a life-song of their short time together.

  Roberto’s eyes shone
. “I never dreamed love would be like this.”

  Ezaara touched his lips with her fingertips. She felt, more than heard, the sharp intake of his breath. His eyes smoldered, burning through her, making her tremble. He crushed her body against the firm planes of his chest, then his mouth was upon hers again.

  Her heart raced as she melted against him, running her hands over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling him closer.

  “I love you,” she groaned against his lips. Never had she imagined a kiss could feel like this.

  “Take care, Ezaara,” Zaarusha melded. “Dragon above.”

  Ezaara broke off their kiss, and glanced up. Antonika was circling the orchard.

  “Don’t worry.” Roberto stroked strands of her hair back from her face. “Tonio’s not riding her. She’s alone.”

  “If she tells him, we’re in big trouble.”

  “After everything we’ve been through, I don’t care. We’ll face that if we have to, but one thing I know: we’ll never be ripped apart again.”

  This time, when he kissed her, fire seared her lips, burning a trail to her core, setting her soul ablaze. Their kiss was urgent, ravenous. Ezaara was lost in a sea of sensation as tendrils spiraled deep inside her, awakening feelings she’d never known.

  Roberto pulled back, his eyes swallowing hers. He ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

  “Neither have I.”

  “One day, when you’re qualified, I’ll ask Lars if we can be hand-fasted.”

  She smiled against his lips, murmuring, “Yes, one day.” For now, they had these forbidden, hidden kisses.

  Roberto kissed her once more, gently. “We’d better get back before someone misses us.”

  They walked hand in hand through the orchard, toward their dragons, their river of sathir dancing around them. Birds flitted in and out of the trees, feasting on peaches in the summer sun. A deep warm glow suffused Ezaara.

  “Do you realize, it’s just over one moon since you arrived?” Roberto asked. “We should celebrate.”

  “We just did.” Ezaara giggled. Four and a half short weeks. A whole different life.

  She was Queen’s Rider. She’d finally earned her rightful place on Zaarusha’s back, leading Dragons’ Realm. And Roberto had earned his place inside her heart.

  “Help, Ezaara!” The voice was faint, as if it was far away, with a familiar deep timbre.

  “Handel?”

  “It’s your father, Hans. He’s dying.”

  Shock hollowed Ezaara’s belly. No, not Pa. “Where is he, Handel? What’s wrong with him?”

  “I’m bringing him to the infirmary.” Handel’s voice was fading. “Please, you need to—”

  “Handel?”

  No answer.

  Roberto touched her face. “What is it?”

  “Handel melded. My father’s dying.” What about her brother? If Pa was dying, where was Tomaaz? And Zaarusha had said Ma was off finding Zaarusha’s son. Was Ma in danger, too?

  Roberto enveloped her in his arms. “It’s all right, Ezaara. We’ll face this together.”

  “They’re on their way here. I have to get ready.” Her hands grew slick with sweat and her pulse thundered. Pa. Dying. How could she prepare when she didn’t know what was wrong with him? She only had a few healing remedies—and Fleur’s questionable supplies. “Roberto, I don’t know what … how …”

  Roberto took her hands, squeezing them. “Ezaara, if anyone can do this, it’s you. I’ll be with you, every step of the way.”

  Breathing deeply, Ezaara nodded. “Let’s go.”

  They ran to Erob and Zaarusha, and took to the sky, soaring above the trees, their dragons’ wings flipping in perfect synchronicity.

  §§§

  Dragon Hero

  Prologue - Eighteen Years Ago

  Marlies strode along the tunnel, torches flickering and shadows flitting across the stone walls. Although it’d been a long day in the infirmary, she had one more duty before she could sleep. Lifting her torch, she turned down the passage to the dragon queen’s den.

  Her footfalls echoed as she passed through Anakisha’s empty sleeping chamber. Sadness washed through her. Had it only been two moons since they’d lost the Queen’s Rider? It seemed longer. There’d been many people to mourn—and dragons. Marlies shook her head. Too many deaths in one battle; and more dead and wounded in skirmishes since. She walked under the archway into Zaarusha’s den and placed the torch in a sconce.

  Zaarusha, the dragon queen, was curled in her nest, her head tucked under a wing, and her tail snug around her body. She unfurled her wings, myriad colors flickering on her scales, like rainbows in an opal. A glint of gold under the dragon’s haunches revealed her precious eggs. Zaarusha extended her neck, facing Marlies, her yellow eyes dull.

  Marlies stretched out her hand to touch the dragon queen’s snout, so they could mind-meld. She forced her thoughts to be cheery. The last thing Zaarusha needed was sadness.

  “Thank you for coming,” Zaarusha’s voice thrummed in Marlies’ mind.

  “How are your dragonets doing today?”

  “My babies are fine.”

  Babies. Marlies flinched.

  “Only a few more weeks until they hatch.” Zaarusha’s sigh echoed like a rock clattering down a mountainside. “Syan will never see our dragonets. I miss him: his companionship; flying together. Hunting.” The queen flicked her tongue out.

  “Did anyone bring you food?”

  “They did, but I had no appetite.”

  Marlies scratched the queen’s eye ridges. “Would you like to hunt tonight? A meal would do you good. It’s been a while.”

  “A week.” The dragon’s belly rumbled.

  Marlies smiled. “You are hungry. Sorry, I couldn’t come sooner. Several of our wounded have infections and fevers, so I haven’t left the infirmary for days.”

  “I can always rely on you.” Zaarusha gazed at her, eyes unblinking. “You’ll take care of my eggs?”

  “Of course. I’m not Syan, but I’ll do my best.”

  “Remember not to touch them.” Zaarusha butted Marlies’ shoulder with her snout. “I won’t be long.”

  “The fresh air will do you good.”

  Careful not to crush the eggs, the dragon queen rose to her feet and stepped out of her nest. She sprang to the open mouth of her den and, with a flash of her colorful wings, leaped off the mountainside and was swallowed by darkness.

  Marlies turned back to the nest. Four golden eggs, as tall as a boy of ten summers, were nestled in the hay. The torch’s flames made their translucent shells glow. Through the tough membrane of the eggs, dragonets were visible. The green flexed its wing nubs. Marlies held her breath, watching the magical creature.

  “Zaarusha’s babies.” Unconsciously, her hand went to her belly. She swallowed. These were the last of the royal offspring. Syan, Zaarusha’s mate, had been killed in battle. His rider, Yanir, too. Anakisha and Zaarusha had tried to save them, but Anakisha had fallen from dragonback, plunging into their enemies’ hands. Zaarusha had still been carrying eggs, so, not wanting to risk the lives of her babies, she’d been forced to abandon her rider and her mate and return to Dragons’ Hold.

  For two moons, the Hold had been grieving—but no one as hard as Zaarusha. She whimpered when she slept, and keened by day. The only things keeping her clinging to life were her duty to the realm and the beautiful creatures moving within these fragile shells.

  For Marlies, seeing the dragonets was like walking on glittering shards. Their beauty transfixed her but cut deeply. Married for three years now, she and Hans had no children. True, she was still young, only in her nineteenth year, but something was wrong.

  Although she’d healed other barren women using herbal remedies, she couldn’t heal herself. Only Hans knew the herbs she’d tried, the rituals by full moon and the tears she’d shed in his arms. And not even he knew of her bitter tears when she was alone. Every babe born at Dragons’ Hold ga
ve her reason to rejoice and cause for pain. Royal dragonets were no exception.

  All gangly limbs and neck, the orange dragonet turned over. The deep blue dragon baby opened its jaws. The green wriggled. In the smallest shell, the purple dragonet was curled in a ball, its wings folded tight against its back. It was so delicate, so fragile, somehow endearing.

  Her breath a whisper, Marlies watched it sleep.

  It was still for a long time.

  Perhaps it wasn’t sleeping. Perhaps something was wrong.

  Marlies moved closer, but recalled Zaarusha’s warning. “Remember not to touch them.”

  As if it sensed her, the purple dragonet woke.

  A faint humming came from the egg. Marlies’ breath caught. She leaned closer, her nose a hand’s breadth from the golden shell. If only she had her own babe to hold, to croon to. She caught herself humming back to Zaarusha’s babe. Why not? She ached to have a baby. Why shouldn’t she sing to Zaarusha’s dragonet?

  The dragonet pushed against the thin gold membrane, seeking her. First its snout, and then its body. Its crooning grew louder.

  Was it calling her?

  The dragonet’s eyes pleaded with her.

  Unable to help herself, Marlies sang a lullaby.

  The baby dragon’s music swelled, drawing Marlies closer, wrapping around her. The lonely, empty aching inside her eased. Her fingertips brushed the shell. She gasped in shock, but before she could draw her hand away, a heartbeat pulsed through the membrane, making her fingers tickle. Euphoria swept through her. Marlies laughed, like she hadn’t in years.

  The dragonet’s humming rose in pitch then fell—it was laughing, as if they were sharing a joke.

  Marlies lay her hands against the shell and closed her eyes, focusing on the voice and the pulse of the creature before her. Her hands filled with energy, her head with music. The stone floor swayed beneath her feet. Marlies felt as light as a petal drifting on a breeze, as radiant as a star.

  The dragonet’s pulse grew stronger, bounding against her hands. Energy ran up her arms to her core. Then it stopped.

  Marlies’ eyes flew open.

  The dragonet was lying on its back, floating in the shell, its wings limp beneath it. She pressed her hands against the shell. No hum. No pulse.