It was still dark when he shook Simeon awake. They needed to be quick or someone would catch them burying Fleur.
Simeon dressed in dry clothes and drank a little water while Bruno peeled an orange and passed it to him. His son bit into it, groaning at the tang of the sweet, tart flesh. “Oh, that’s good.” Leaning back on his elbows, he took another bite. “Never thought I’d be grateful for oranges again.” His eyes were sunken and his cheeks gaunt.
Not as bad as Fleur’s. Bruno averted his eyes from her. “True.” He nodded. They’d survived the Wastelands by stumbling upon a seaside oasis. They’d eaten only dates and oranges for three days before gathering up supplies and making a raft out of palm trunks bound with fronds.
Bruno piled up some dry sticks and fluffy grass, tipped some coals onto them, and blew to spark the embers into flame.
“Wait here, Son.” He took the spade and headed farther inland to the high bluffs that overlooked Naobia. Then he started digging a grave for his wife.
A tear slid down Bruno’s face—the first he’d cried for Fleur. Until now, he’d been too dehydrated for tears.
§
Unocco stretched his wings and took off over the basin at Dragons’ Hold. In the dim starlight, the snow-tipped fangs of Dragon’s Teeth pierced the sky above him, hemming him in. A fierce ache was building in his chest. Had been for days. Restless energy danced inside him. He wanted to soar, to fly until he dropped.
“Are you out roaming the night again?” Ajeurina mind-melded. “You can’t be hungry. You fed a few hours ago.”
Unocco glanced down at the southern caverns where Ajeurina would be huddled on the ledge. It was too dark to see her, but he could imagine her beautiful jade scales. She’d be curled in the back corner, her tail up over her haunch, leaving space for him to nestle against her, should he choose to join her.
But his aching chest wouldn’t be soothed by sleeping, even next to his mate. He soared higher and higher, climbing the side of Heaven’s Peak, his wingbeats setting snow tumbling down the mountainside.
“Watch out, you’ll start an avalanche.” She hesitated. “You’re missing Bruno, aren’t you?”
The pang in his chest grew. There it was—his pain laid bare. “Of course not,” Unocco lied. “Why would I miss a rider who implanted me with an evil crystal?” He snorted, hoping to convince Ajeurina that he didn’t care about losing his rider—that there was no aching hole inside him.
“Imprinting with another rider will help you. The pain of Fleur’s betrayal was almost too much to bear.” Ajeurina’s sorrow cascaded over him, deepening the hurt in his breast. Then she sent a new feeling, a keen excitement that quivered at the edge of his mind. “Meeting Lovina healed my heart. Please, Unocco, give another rider a chance. There are many fine candidates who need a steady, loyal dragon like you.”
Ajeurina was right. He was steady and loyal. And although Bruno had mistreated him in the last few years, Unocco had fond memories of when Bruno was younger. Sure, he’d been tough, a rebel at heart, but Unocco had tamed him, harnessed that wild energy inside him. They’d fought valiantly together. Been the closest of friends.
Even when Zens had turned them.
But surely, now that Bruno had been banished with his family to the Wastelands … surely now, he’d had a change of heart.
Unocco wheeled in midair over the top of the mountain, the scar under his wing where Zens had implanted that awful crystal twinging. Thankfully, the terrible dark shadows and whispering voices in his mind were gone. He owed Marlies for extracting that shrotty crystal.
And yes—now that his mind was his own and he could think clearly—he missed Bruno. But what if his rider were dead? Or alive but still corrupted by Zens, still fighting the queen and the realm?
Unocco had tamed Bruno’s wild tendencies before. He could do it again—if his rider still lived.
Before he gave himself to another rider, he had to know if Bruno was alive and could be saved. Unocco turned south toward the Wastelands. The savage pain in his breast eased.
Without another word to Ajeurina, he soared into the night.
§
Three days in Naobia, a few sleights of hand at the market, and some stealthy late night excursions had provided Bruno and Simeon with adequate supplies—and some luxuries. High on a bluff above the beach, Bruno lowered the far-seers and wriggled back on his belly to join Simeon. “I was right. It was them I saw yesterday,” 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 he’d 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.
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 her death. Why not Roberto and that snivelly girl?
More Riders of Fire Adventures
Ezaara—Book 1
Dragon Hero—Book 2
Dragon Rift—Book 3
Dragon
