Ezaara squeezed Roberto’s hand. She had to know. “You said you weren’t returning to Dragons’ Hold, but it’s not true, is it?”
Roberto’s arms tightened around her as if he was afraid to lose her. A wave of sadness hit her, and her throat tightened with grief.
The rumble of his voice carried through her back. “Let’s enjoy the journey and talk about it in Naobia.”
They didn’t really speak much in their long flight across the dry and arid desert. Maybe she’d feel better when she saw the ocean again.
But when they reached the Naobian Sea, it was overcast. Instead of a sparkling jewel box of lapis, sapphire and jade, the sea was flat slate, its dark secrets roiling below the surface.
The day turned to dusk and darkness settled. Ezaara drifted to sleep, head against Roberto’s shoulder, his warm arms around her.
She woke to that same slate sea rushing in to the Naobian shore. Today, Roberto would tell her why he wasn’t returning. Ezaara felt emptier than ever before.
Naobia
The salty tang of the Naobian Sea woke old memories inside Roberto as Erob’s wingbeats made currents, stirring wisps of Ezaara’s hair against his cheek. She was breathing softly in her sleep, peaceful. He steeled himself against a wave of tenderness. Love led to heartbreak. He’d seen enough lives cut short by traitors like Amato. And he’d destroyed enough himself. It would be better to lose Ezaara now, before he destroyed her too.
There, it was time to face it. Amato, his father, had scarred him. Flying back to his homeland was like facing his past—the nightmares: his father, and himself.
It had started that night when he was ten.
Thirsty, he got up for a drink of water. His parents were yelling. They’d argued more since Pa had been lucky enough to escape from Zens. Adults didn’t make sense—surely they’d be happier now Pa was home. Roberto crouched behind the bedroom door, listening. Adelina, only six years old, joined him, tucking her small hand in his.
“They’re incompetent,” Pa shouted. “The whole bunch of them. With wizards gone, they can’t even protect our lands anymore. We’ll all be destroyed unless we join Zens.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ma said. “Dragons have protected the realm for thousands of years.”
“You ignorant fool, it’s obvious.” Wood splintered.
And splintered again.
Roberto’s heart pounded. He put his arms around Adelina. She clung to him, trembling.
“Amato.” Ma’s voice was shaky. “What’s happening to you? This is treason.”
“Lucia, Zens makes sense. He has new blood and muscle at his command. He will win.”
“How can you say that?”
“Lucia, my darling,” Pa reasoned, sounding tender, “I’m only worried about the family, the littlings. I love you all so …”
His father wanted to follow Zens, the enemy of Dragons’ Realm. Roberto pulled Adelina away from the door, taking her back to her bed. He was no longer thirsty.
Everything had gone downhill from there. Family life became tense and discordant, and his father, violent.
One day, after Roberto had fed the hens, Razo limped up to him, whimpering, trailing bloody footprints. Roberto knelt, patting his fur. “Hey, boy, what’s wrong?” His dog’s hind leg was gashed from haunch to paw, his tan fur laid open in a viscous slice of red.
Razo whined and sank to the ground, licking Roberto’s hand. His leg was a mess. “Hang on, boy, I’ll get Ma.” Roberto spun.
“No, you won’t.” Pa’s voice was dangerously soft. “Lazy dog, lazy boy. Both, good for nothing.” Amato flicked a whip.
In a surge of anger, Roberto knew who’d hurt Razo. His fists balled. “What did he do?”
“Absolutely nothing. Should’ve been working, keeping the stock. Instead he was lying in the sun.”
“That’s not fair! You made him run those goats too far last night. He came home worn out.” He gritted his teeth. “You’re nothing but a coward, Pa. No one whips a good work dog.”
“And no one whips a hard-working son,” thundered Amato. He flicked his whip. The tip lashed out, striking Roberto just below the eye.
Razo leaped up, barking, to defend him. “No, Razo, no!”
Pa drew his knife and sunk it into Razo’s throat.
Blood sprayed.
Over Razo’s chest. Over Roberto’s face and clothes and hands.
He knelt in the sun, blood dripping from his fingers, his chin. His dead friend. Roberto was numb with shock.
“Clean up this mess and bury him deep. Then you’ve got the hens to tend.” Amato kicked the twitching dog with his boot and stalked off to the river to cleanse himself.
Roberto’s tears mingled with the blood on his face, dribbling into his mouth. Chest heaving, he pulled Razo against him, crying until he couldn’t cry anymore.
His mother arrived. Her warm arms folded around him, and she held him wordlessly until Razo’s body was cold.
Ma’s face was also streaked with red and tears. Adelina was clutching Ma’s tunic, eyes red.
“Let’s give him a proper funeral,” Ma had said. “I’m sorry, Roberto, so sorry.”
He and Ma were covered in blood and dirt by the time they’d buried Razo.
Along with his dog, he buried the playful innocence of his littling days and his love for his father.
It hadn’t always been like that.
Pa had been loving and fun until his green guard troop had been captured by tharuks. All six riders were taken and enslaved, although their dragons escaped.
His ma, Lucia, had never given up hope that Amato would return, even though he was missing for nearly a year. Matotoi, Pa’s dragon, had never stopped hunting for him, and one day, he brought Pa back, chasing the sorrow from Ma’s face.
Roberto and Adelina were overjoyed. No one except Amato had survived. Naobia celebrated his return and mourned the loss of the other riders.
A few weeks later, Amato’s
