Mountain of Lies: Dragonblood, #3

By Raquel Lyon

With the mystery of her father’s disappearance solved, Piper is back at home and more confused than ever. Resuming her studies and trying to live a normal teenage life isn’t working out.

After all, there’s nothing normal about being a witch.

With her friends gone and no inclination to study, Piper longs to be with Lambert: the boy who taught her who she was and showed her a world beyond her small-town life. The boy she left behind in another dimension.

So when he turns up with bad news and begs for her help, she is forced to put her fear of the dragon people behind her and accept that her only chance of happiness means returning to a land that could cost her her life.

Mountain of Lies is the third and final book in the Dragonblood trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Raquel Lyon
• Release date: Jul 31, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533785480

Book preview

Chapter One

LAMBERT CROUCHED BEHIND a gravestone and stared at the flower in his hand. The falling rain battered drops over the petals, distorting its beauty. A few yards away, a hole in the ground held part of his life—a part, some might say, he had known only a matter of days, but in truth, he had not known at all. If circumstances had been different, he would have been standing alongside his stepfather, listening to the priest’s words. Instead, he was cowering like the fugitive he was, unable to say goodbye.

Fate had been cruel. It seemed as though his whole family had been cursed: his father, his mother, himself. Every one of their lives tarnished by an invisible ‘greater good’ which Lambert was beginning to think didn’t exist.

He twisted the stem in his fingers as he waited for the priest to conclude. The service was a meaningless gesture, a pitiful send-off by a man who held no love for the deceased and had arranged the ceremony purely out of duty to his wife.

Prago.

Lambert’s ears pricked and past memories quaked through him at the sound of a voice he would rather forget. He poked his head around the slab of rock.

Striding confidently along the dirt path was a man who had no business being anywhere near Lambert’s family. Rivulets of rainwater ran down the general of the King’s Guard’s bald head and dripped from the tip of his nose as he nodded at the departing priest in passing and approached Lambert’s stepfather.

I did not know condolences were in order, my friend, the general said. You should have informed me.

Lambert suppressed a gasp. Friend? The inclement weather made it difficult to gauge the general’s tone, but it could not be true. Prago would never be on amicable terms with the man who had helped to sentence his stepson to the worst punishment in Chimmeris.

The general angled his head to read the name engraved on the coffin as he shook Prago’s hand. My apologies. I presumed the dearly departed to be your wife. Who is the man you are burying today?

A childhood friend of hers—a nobody who lived many years in the woods. My wife thought charity was in order.

She is all heart. But... Hayhurst. The name sounds familiar, he said, still staring at the coffin.

Oh, I doubt it, Septamus.

Puzzled that his stepfather had greeted the general by his given name and yet lied about the deceased, Lambert held his breath and willed the general not to make any connection as he watched Prago pick a wet grey ringlet from where it had blown over his eye and smooth it back. It was a trait of his to fiddle with his hair when he was uncomfortable, but he kept that fact from his face when the general looked back to him.

And how are things at home? Any news?

Much the same. Still waiting.

I admire your loyalty. It must be love.

"She is my wife."

A warped smile curled over the general’s face, and he huffed. Quite so. Let me know if the situation changes. He slapped Prago on the shoulder before he turned to leave, and the small gathering of mourners drifted back through the cemetery gate.

Lambert waited until they had set off towards the tavern before checking the coast was clear and quickening to the mound of soil. He did not have much time before the fossor came to finish his work, and he could not risk being seen.

Staring into the hollow, he threw the flower onto the rough wooden surface nestled at the bottom and lamented over the senseless end of a life. The man in the box should not have died. Lambert’s mother was inconsolable. She should have been at her husband’s side today, but her illness prevented it, and it was only a matter of time before she followed her childhood sweetheart to the grave.

Lambert sighed. He had risked much to bring his father back to her, and it had all been for nothing. Prago’s potion should have healed his simple head injury. Instead, he had never woken up and had died the following day. Lambert wanted to grieve. It felt like the right thing to do, but how did one grieve over somebody they did not know? And besides, his heart already lay in pieces over a different loss. It was impossible for it to hurt any more.

Taking one last look at the grave, he tugged the collar of his coat tighter and hurried back home before anyone could notice his presence.

His mother called out at the sound of the door closing. Bertie? Is that you?

He went to her room and sat beside her on the bed. Her ashen skin glistened with cold perspiration, and her eyes had sunk a little deeper into her skull. He forced a smile.

Thank the gods you have returned, she said breathlessly. I-I was so worried. What if you were seen?

I was careful, Mother.

She frowned in that disapproving way mothers were wont to do. Rixton thought he had been careful, too.

Rixton was his best friend—the friend who had saved his life and was the reason he had been able to reunite his parents, however briefly. Lambert was itching to see him again, and had planned to pay him a night-time visit after his father had been laid to rest.

What are you talking about?

His mother paid me a call... while you were out. So nice of her to bring me some fresh bread, she said, wheezing. Prago has not yet mastered the art of baking. Each word caused her pain, and yet she was wasting them on trivialities.

Lambert tried not to sound too impatient. Please get to the point, Mother.

She took a moment to regain her breath before continuing, Oh, Bertie. He was spotted... aiding in your escape.

Lambert sprang to his feet and paced the floor. He did not need more bad news. Is he...? Is he still alive?

Yes, but... Her eyes lowered.

But what? What is it, Mother? What did they do to him? Not the Genicerem?

No. No, hard labour in the mines.

Lambert exhaled a sigh of relief. Rixton was stronger than most boys of eighteen. If it came to it, he could handle a few months of whacking rocks in the mines. How long?

Indefinitely.

"Indefinitely? Lambert’s chest tightened. Indefinitely was a different matter. Indefinitely could break a man. Then I need to free him, Mother. I cannot leave him there."

That would be very foolhardy... and dangerous.

He is there because of me. I owe it to him.

You did not ask him to do what he did. The queen must bear the responsibility for his situation.

The queen? Why?

Because I asked for her help... and she owed me.

Owed you? Why? What are you keeping from me, Mother? Why would the queen be beholden to you, her servant?

Because... if it were not for me, she would already be dead... from the very poison that is slowly eating away at me.

You said that was an accident, that you drank scierus poison by mistake instead of cough tincture.

A flash of guilt passed through her eyes. I lied. I drank nothing. I was scratched by motrosa thorns.

I do not understand. Motrosa thorns are not fatal.

Unless they are coated with a substance designed to kill a Voltignian queen. Whoever sent the flowers clearly expected her to unwrap her gift herself.

His mother’s news came as no surprise. The queen was hated by many, and it was entirely conceivable that an attempt had been made on her life. But why would you lie about that?

The Crown did not wish it known that the queen could be so easily targeted.

But to lie to your family, to— Lambert’s head shot round with a sudden realisation. Does Prago know the truth? Because if he has been treating you for the wrong—

He knows. He says the poison is dark magic... beyond his... capabilities. I cannot be cured. She sucked a sharp breath in through her teeth and clutched at her stomach.

Lambert was back at her side in an instant. I apologise, Mother. I did not mean to cause you distress, but I cannot ignore what you have told me. Rixton is my dearest friend, who not only saved my life but changed it in ways you cannot possibly know. I will not stand by and do nothing while he suffers.

Concern mingled with the pain in his mother’s eyes as she clasped his wrist. It would be suicide to attempt to free him. Please do not do anything stupid. For me?

Mother, I love you. You know that. But after you are gone, what then? Without Rixton, I will have no one, and there will be nothing left for me here.

I had hoped that you would find a nice girl to settle down with.

An image of a girl flashed across Lambert’s memory—a girl with long blonde hair, kind eyes, and a defiant chin. A little hard to do when I cannot even show my face about town without fear for my life. Besides, there is only one girl that I want, and she is a world away, he said, averting his eyes from his mother’s curious stare as a solution to the problem presented itself. He raised them again with a smile. Mother, perhaps it is time I told you about Piper.

Chapter Two

A GLOW OF SILVERY LIGHT illuminated Piper’s room. Another day had ended, another day without Lambert. She pulled the covers tighter around her shoulders, needing the comfort more than protection against the wintry chill, and snuggled back into the pillow. She hadn’t thought it would be this hard to go back to her old life, but she’d been wrong. Everything had changed. The girl who went to college and worked part-time in her father’s antique shop had disappeared, and as hard as she tried, Piper couldn’t find her. She didn’t exist anymore. In her place was a sad little witch who didn’t know where she belonged.

Leaving the supernatural world of the Towers behind and returning to her old home above the shop should have brought a sense of normality and routine back to her life—at least, that was what she’d hoped—but in the days since her return, she hadn’t been able to concentrate on her studies, had hardly slept a wink, and all she’d thought about was Lambert.

Lambert. The boy who’d appeared at a time when she was lost and had given her a sense of purpose and the chance for a family again, who’d taught her how to control her magic and got frustrated by her failures, but whose smile had lit up the room when she’d succeeded. The boy who’d found his father at the very moment she’d lost hers, and whom she’d left behind in another dimension. The only person she felt a connection to anymore. Some days, she missed him so much she didn’t want to get out of bed. But she thought of him most when she crawled exhausted into it and lay there wondering if he was thinking of her too.

Unlikely.

Lambert had enough to deal with: hiding from the law, getting to know his father, and tending to a dying mother. His plate was full. She felt sure he wouldn’t be thinking about her. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? It had even crossed her mind whether she could cast a spell to bring him back to her, but if she’d learned anything, in all the hours she’d spent studying in the Towers library, it was that magic was not to be used selfishly, however much she might be tempted. No. She would have to face the fact that she would never see him again, and get over it. Somehow.

The light dimmed further as the circle of moonlight filtering through the thin curtains was snuffed out by a passing cloud. Somewhere outside, an owl hooted, quickly followed by the yowl of an alley cat and the clunk-clunk of an empty bottle rolling along the uneven road. Annoyed by the disturbance, Piper climbed from her bed and went to the window. Peering through the gap in the curtains, she hoped Boatman John, the local tramp, wasn’t taking up residence in the side street for the night. If he started with his drunken singing, she had zero chance of ever getting to sleep.

Searching the darkness of the street below, she couldn’t detect any sign of life, and had already turned to go back to her bed when she heard it: a padding of footsteps, getting louder. Somebody was coming up the stairs.

With her heart hammering, she tiptoed as quickly as she could to the wall by the door and pressed her back to it—ears pricked, mind alert. Had she forgotten to lock the side door downstairs? A lapse of security was preferable to the alternative. The last time intruders had invaded her flat, locked doors hadn’t proven to be a barrier to the warlocks who almost killed her. One of them had ended up dead, but if the other had returned to finish the job, she would be ready for him. The footsteps entered the living room and stopped. There was a shuffling noise before they resumed and headed for her room. Piper held her breath when they reached her door.

The handle squeaked as it slowly turned and the door creaked open. Then, as the figure stepped into her room, Piper reacted. Her hand flew out and compelled the man over to the far wall. He smacked against it and crumpled to the floor with a groan. She ran over and jumped onto his back, her weight pinning him to the floor. Okay, she thought. What now? The man squirmed beneath her thighs, and she clenched them tighter. She really should have worked out how she was going to restrain him while she called the police. Ideas raced through her mind, and her veins heated, reminding her that her fire was ready if the need arose.

Wait, he mumbled, his protestations distorted by his face pressing into the carpet.

You chose the wrong building to break into, buster, she said, focusing her thoughts on a belt she remembered hanging from her bedpost and willing it to come to her. It landed in her waiting hand, and she wrapped it around his wrists.

Stop. Hold on, he mumbled again, wriggling in her grip. He was strong, but Piper was determined. She squeezed her knees into his sides as she secured the belt with a knot, and then grabbed a handful of his hair to lift his head.

Keep quiet and don’t move, or I’ll fry your crooked ass, she hissed.

I believe you would, too. Look, I will do anything you ask... if only you would get off me.

His words, distinct and familiar this time, doused the fire raging inside her and stole her breath. Releasing her grip, she slid onto the floor beside him and closed her eyes.

This wasn’t real. She must have fallen asleep and drifted straight into this unbelievably lifelike dream. Either that, or her extreme tiredness had wrenched the sanity from her head and her brain was distorting the man’s words into something it wanted to hear more than anything.

Beyond the blackness, she heard him sit up and sigh. Piper?

She slapped her hands over her ears and shook her head. It couldn’t be him. He had no reason to be here. Why would he have returned?

Wait. He’d said her name. What kind of intruder would know her name?

She scrambled to her feet and ran to flick the light switch, then stared at the boy sitting across from her with a lopsided grin.

Lambert? Is it really you? Under a dark, wavy fringe, his green eyes shone with a glassy brilliance as he stared back at her, waiting. Say something, she said.

I thought you required me to remain silent.

When I thought you were a burglar. You scared the shit out of me.

My apologies. I had not expected you to be abed at this hour.

He raised his shoulders, and Piper heard a small crack before he brought his hands forward and rubbed his wrists. She should have known one small strip of leather would not be enough to restrain a warlock. She rushed forward and knelt beside him.

I’m so sorry for attacking you. If I’d known it was you, I—

Would not have trussed me up like a boar for roasting?

Well... yes.

May I suggest the use of the nimotus spell, the next time you wish to debilitate a man?

Piper smiled inwardly at the familiarity. She’d missed him scolding her shortcomings. What are you doing here? she asked, secretly hoping for an answer