Obviously humble enough to learn, this girl wasn’t so bad after all. “You’ll be fine, with my help. Remember, you’ve already passed your first test.”
Ezaara shuddered. “It was hideous.”
Roberto had said Ezaara had the strongest bond he’d ever tested, and he’d know. “Master Roberto said you did well.”
“I’m surprised he had anything to say about me at all.”
“Tough, was he?” He did tough well. “I’ll tell you what. He’s sometimes tough on me too. Let’s pay him back with a prank.” She winked.
“But we’ll get in trouble. He’s a master. I—”
“It’s only a bit of harmless fun. I promise.”
This time Ezaara’s smile was real. “I could use some fun.”
Adelina laughed.
Dragon Flight
Roberto paced in the clearing under Zaarusha’s den, stones crunching underfoot as he recited the words to the ceremony under his breath. It’d been two hours since Adelina had gone to fetch the girl. What was taking them so long? Over two hundred folk were gathered in the clearing and over a hundred dragons were perched on the mountainside, waiting. This was the biggest event they’d had at Dragons’ Hold in years—probably in his lifetime.
Seated on a dais behind him with the other masters, Lars gave the signal. It was time. Ezaara had better show up. Roberto hesitated, remembering the mental ordeal he’d put her through in the middle of the night. Perhaps they should give her longer—last night she’d been so exhausted, she’d collapsed.
Far behind the crowd, Ezaara emerged from the main cavern. What was going on? They’d anticipated her appearance in this clearing, beneath Queen Zaarusha’s den. Adelina should’ve known that.
Roberto raised the horn to his lips, blowing a haunting note that echoed off the granite mountainsides. He gestured toward the new Queen’s Rider at the back of the crowd.
And stared.
§
That morning, Adelina had taught Ezaara how to saddle Zaarusha. She’d done her hair, helped her dress, then led her through the back tunnels and into the empty main cavern.
“No one will expect you to come this way.” Adelina’s brown eyes were warm. “You’ll surprise them all.”
Hopefully, not in a bad way. “Are you sure? I—”
Adelina hugged Ezaara. “Keep smiling and I’m sure you’ll win everyone over. I’ll be nearby, if you need me.”
It was good to have a friend among these tough riders and fierce dragons.
When Ezaara stepped outside the cavern, a crowd was gathered. Her stomach fluttered. Luckily they were facing away from her, toward the dragon masters.
Roberto blew a horn and flung his arm toward Ezaara. Folk turned to stare.
§
Roberto inhaled. Ezaara was radiant. In place of the fearful travel-weary waif was a young woman worthy of a royal court. Her light-blue robe was threaded with green ribbons that fluttered in the breeze. The crown of her blonde hair was plaited and woven with more green ribbons, leaving long tresses loose over her shoulders and back.
Ezaara talked to those she passed, often touching someone’s outstretched hand. Her laugh loosened something in his chest—something that had been tight for years.
Absently, he lowered the horn from his lips. This was the same girl he’d tested last night?
She’d passed that test brilliantly, and now she was passing the next hurdle—the folk loved her. They were smiling, shaking her hand. Excitement hummed through the crowd.
It had taken him a year to prove himself at Dragons’ Hold. How had she done it in less than a day?
There was more to her than he’d suspected. He cringed at his harsh attitude before he’d known Ezaara was Zaarusha’s true rider.
She passed through the crowd, murmuring a quiet word here and there, her slim figure coming ever closer to the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters. Colors flitted through his head. Her, it was her. Ezaara’s vibrancy tinged his soul.
Like the crowd of dragon folk, Roberto was awestruck.
But, unlike them, he couldn’t afford to show it.
§
The crowd parted. Ezaara swallowed. It was now or never. She could do this. Maybe Zaarusha was right, perhaps she did belong here. Reaching out, she squeezed a little boy’s hand. His face lit up and his mother murmured her thanks. Those nearby greeted her. Some smiled, others reached out to touch her. Ezaara made her way through the throng, the warmth of the dragon folk wrapping around her like a fluffy blanket.
Roberto was facing the crowd, his black hair curling where it touched his shoulders. A horn dangled from his fingertips. How had he created such soulful music with a single note?
Nearing the council, Ezaara stopped short of Roberto and inclined her head. She was determined not to give him reason to fault her. “Good day, Master Roberto.”
Roberto stepped forward, his voice carrying across the clearing. “Beloved Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters, magnificent dragons, esteemed gentlefolk and riders of Dragons’ Hold, I present to you Ezaara, verified Rider of Zaarusha, the Honored Queen of Dragons’ Realm.” He waved his hand toward her with a flourish.
So formal. What was she supposed to do now? Ezaara nodded in acknowledgment.
Roberto continued, “Before the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters, she has proven her imprinting bond, her allegiance to the realm and …”
For a moment Roberto looked panicked. He’d obviously forgotten his words.
“This is boring,” a little boy piped up.
Ezaara let out a giggle. The stares of the council members turned to ice. She quickly covered her mouth with her hand.
Roberto’s cheek twitched, right by a tiny pale scar. He continued, “… her allegiance to the realm and her devotion to our queen. Do you accept her?”
People near them tittered. Others glared.
“Gentlefolk, do you accept her?” Roberto repeated, cheek still twitching.
“We do,” the crowd called.
Roberto turned to Ezaara. “And do you, Ezaara, accept your obligation and vow to protect Dragons’ Realm—rider, warrior, dragon, wizard, farmer, craftsperson, adult and littling alike—with your very life?”
“My life?” Ezaara squeaked.
Lars, council leader, nodded at her, face grave.
“Ezaara.” Roberto’s dark eyes bored into her. “Being Queen’s Rider carries responsibility. Your decision today is binding and irreversible. You’ll be revered and honored by folk in Dragons’ Realm and despised by our foes. Your life will be in danger, and you may die fighting our enemies. Do you accept?”
Die? Like Anakisha? Was she ready to die fighting for folk she hardly knew? She remembered the man in the pass, dying in her arms. The weight of responsibility sank through her bones. This was her duty. “My life is Zaarusha’s. I will fulfill my destiny as Queen’s Rider.”
The crowd cheered.
Roberto held his palm up, demanding silence.
“Every new Queen’s Rider must undertake an evaluation flight before training begins.” Roberto’s eyes flicked to her dress. “Would you care to dress in your rider’s garb while we wait, Ezaara, Honored Rider of Queen Zaarusha?” Scorn lurked in his gaze. Challenge. “How long will you need?”
Ezaara turned her back to him, facing the crowd, and pulled the ribbons on her gown. The front of her dress flew open, revealing her dragon rider’s garb.
The crowd gasped.
Roberto opened his mouth then snapped his jaw shut.
Good, Adelina’s trick with the dress had rattled Roberto—sweet revenge for his scorn last night. Twisting her hair into a tight coil on the back of her head, she tied it up with the ribbons. How Adelina had managed to find the exact green of her eyes, she had no idea. She took off the dress and handed it to Adelina, who was waiting at the edge of the crowd. Giving what she hoped was a demure smile, Ezaara said, “You see, Master Roberto, I didn’t need long at all.”
Whatever Roberto replied was
lost amid the cheers of dragon folk as Zaarusha swooped down, scales blazing in the noonday sun.
Zaarusha’s hum filled Ezaara’s mind, “Jump on. We’ll make this flight memorable, so strap in tightly.”
Ezaara climbed up, fastened her harness and pulled the hood of her jerkin tight. Zaarusha sent her a mental picture of the maneuver they were about to perform. “You’re crazy! I’ll never survive.” Naked fear sliced through her.
“Ezaara, we have no choice. We have to prove you’re fit.”
“But I’ll slip, fall, I’ll—”
“Trust me. I know how brave you are. We can do this.” Zaarusha sprang into the sky and circled once, the breeze from her wingbeats stirring the spectators’ hair.
“Zaarusha, I don’t know if—”
“Trust me.”
Her fear would cloud Zaarusha’s focus. She had to overcome it. A memory flashed to mind. The first time she’d splinted a broken leg while an injured boy whimpered, she’d been terrified, but despite the boy’s anguish, she’d done it with Ma’s help. Maybe she could do this too. Ezaara steeled her nerves, patting Zaarusha’s neck. “I’m ready.”
A happy rumble coursed through the queen.
They gathered speed. Below, the upturned faces blurred. Ezaara threw her body forward, sliding her arms through leather loops on Zaarusha’s neck, clinging to the hand grips. She locked her knees and dug her feet deep into the stirrups. Wind rushed past her. She was swept up in a whirl of color, and her heart soared with the sweetest music. Her mind was one with Zaarusha, sensing every wing beat, every movement of her dragon’s muscles.
Zaarusha’s exhilaration rushed through her. Fields whipped by beneath them. The dark forest was a blur. A granite cliff loomed, snow capping its upper reaches. Zaarusha flew straight at the mountainside. Within meters of the rocky face, she roared, folded her wings, and flicked her tail downward, propelling them up the sheer stone wall.
They sped up the mountainside, rock rushing past her dragon’s belly. Suddenly, Zaarusha was upside-down. Gravity pulled at Ezaara, trying to claw her body out of the harness. She clung to the leather loops, arms aching. The world tilted and spun. Flashes of treetops. Rock. Snow. Sky. Her stomach dropped. Oh, she was dizzy.
“We’re right side up again,” Zaarusha announced, flipping over. “You can relax now.”
Heart pounding, Ezaara released the grips and sat up. “We did it. That was incredible. Let’s do it again!”
“We’ll do many more loops, but not today. Now, take off your hood and unfasten the ribbons from your hair.”
They flew toward fields of grain and vegetables.
“It’s time for some fun.” Zaarusha showed her another maneuver. “Hold your ribbons high.”
Ezaara gripped Zaarusha with her knees, tensing her stomach. The dragon queen swooped up and down, leap-frogging across the grain fields, stalks rippling in their wake. Ezaara’s blonde hair tugged her scalp as it whipped out behind her. The ribbons fluttered like banners in her hands.
The crowd clapped as they approached, chanting, “E—zaa—ra, Zaa—ru—sha.”
The peal of the horn rang out over the basin.
“Give Roberto one of your ribbons.”
“That cold, arrogant fish. Why would I give him anything?”
“Trust me. Give him one, but do it discreetly. I’ll tell you when,” Zaarusha commanded.
Ezaara didn’t dare question the queen.
§
Erob’s chuckle startled Roberto. “No one’s flown a loop since Anakisha. I dare you to challenge Zaarusha’s rider now.”
Zaarusha landed in front of the applauding crowd, facing the council.
Shrugging off his dragon’s quip, Roberto approached and helped Ezaara down. Last night, he hadn’t noticed the sprinkling of tiny freckles, like precious flecks of gold, across the bridge of her nose. He shoved the thought away, turning to the crowd.
“Honored Queen’s Rider.” He projected his voice across the stony clearing. “You have been unanimously accepted by the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters and riders of Dragons’ Hold. Tonight, we’ll feast to celebrate.”
“Thank you.” Ezaara’s cheeks were flushed. Her windswept hair hung tangled down her back and she was winding a ribbon around her fingers.
Zaarusha roared, drowning out the crowd. She tossed her head high and spread her wings, blocking Ezaara and Roberto from the crowd’s view.
Ezaara’s small hand reached for his. “This is for you,” she said.
Colors spiraled through his mind. There it was again—her.
She darted back to her dragon’s side. No one had noticed their exchange.
Roberto opened his hand. Inside was one of Ezaara’s green satin ribbons, still warm where she’d held it. He rubbed the satin with his thumb. Did she realize what this meant?
When Roberto looked up, Handel was watching him, bronze tail twitching ominously. Roberto snapped his hand shut and walked away.
Fishing
Roberto lifted the heavy saddlebags and carried them to Erob, who was waiting on the lip of his den. Far below, people were setting up trestle tables for Ezaara’s feast. Tonight, fish would be roasted in honor of the new Queen’s Rider, and Roberto, being Naobian, was the hold’s chief fisherman. He checked Erob’s saddle straps were tight, then touched the pocket holding Ezaara’s ribbon. The gift confused him. According to tradition, accepting her ribbon made him her protector—unto death. Did Ezaara even know that?
He shrugged. Whether she knew or not, he’d accepted it—and he’d honor that commitment.
Ezaara’s dizzying loop had been a spectacular feat. Impressive, along with her trick with her dress. He snorted. Adelina would’ve been behind that.
At Erob’s rumble, Roberto clambered up and rubbed his dragon’s neck. “How did they do it, Erob? Could we fly a loop?”
Erob huffed his breath out. “I’d be too tempted to tip you off!” He leaped off the ledge, soaring high above the folk. They flew north, over fields, toward the dark band of forest and the lake. “Ezaara trusts her dragon completely—a rare gift.”
“It is,” agreed Roberto.
Trust? Could the answer be that simple? And that terrifying. He hadn’t trusted anyone for years—except Adelina and Erob. How could he?
After what he’d done, he could hardly trust himself.
The lake glinted silver. Erob spiraled down to the eastern shore and Roberto unpacked the fishing net.
“Work first?” he asked Erob. “Or are you tired after your arduous flight?”
Erob gave him a dragonly grin. He grasped each end of the fishing net with his talons and flew over the lake, his forelegs skimming the surface and the net trailing in the water. Erob was taut and focused, yet if there was a threat, he’d be beside Roberto in moments.
“If only humans could share the same bond.”
“They can,” Erob replied. “I witnessed it once as an unborn dragonet. Some human mates have such a strong emotional bond, they can mind-meld the way you and I do.”
“What?” He’d never heard of that.
“Apparently Anakisha and Yanir could mind-meld.” Erob rose above the lake, the dripping net full of flapping fish, and flew back to the shore. Roberto helped guide the net onto the grass, and opened it. Erob snaffled two large fish for himself, wolfing them down.
Roberto clapped his dragon on the foreleg. “Good fishing.” He tossed Erob two more. Flipping and twisting, the fish scattered diamonds of water as they arced through the air into his jaws.
“I’ve finished my work. It’s your turn, now.” His dragon stretched in the sun. “I could roast one, if you like.”
“I’m saving my appetite for the feast tonight.” Roberto bent to sort the fish, killing the large ones and throwing the small ones back.
“Harrumph.” Erob hooked a fish with his talon and roasted it with a moderate dragon flame.
“Erob, just because you’re hungry, doesn’t mean I am.” The aroma of cooked fish
making his mouth water, Roberto put their catch into sacks.
Erob shot another tendril of flame at the fish. Its juices sizzled. Shards, it smelled good.
“All right, if you insist.” Roberto carried a flat stone to Erob, who placed the cooked fish on it to cool. He flopped on the grass and leaned against his dragon’s sun-warmed side.
“A great invention of yours, that net,” melded Erob.
He’d always been a good fisherman. It was part of his Naobian heritage. Before the net, he’d hunted for hours from Erob’s back with a long-handled net or spear, but now they could catch fish quickly and then take time to relax.
“I bet it’s just a rumor that humans can mind-meld.” Roberto took a bite of fish.
“When I was an embryo, I met another couple who were mind-melding.”
“And?”
“I don’t know them, only the timbre of their minds,” Erob replied. “I’d recognize her again, though.”
“Her?”
“Yes, her. She was melding, so I sensed her mind. Through her, I felt his. Their love was like dragon and rider.” Erob nudged Roberto with his snout.
Dragons didn’t lie. It must be true, then. “I’m glad we imprinted. Life was grim until you turned up,” Roberto mumbled. “Without you, I’d be dead. Or worse.” He bolted the last of his fish.
“Most relationships are not like your parents’.” Erob flicked the tip of his tail at Roberto’s ear.
Roberto batted his tail away.
“Many humans are happily bonded.”
Bitter memories rushed through Roberto. His throat tightened.
“Your father’s betrayal was—”
“Not now, Erob,” he barked.
“You’re not like him,” insisted Erob.
His father’s face loomed in his head, mocking him. Zens’ bulbous eyes leered at him. The bodies of maimed slaves, piled high, stinking. Whips cracked. Screams. Muffled moaning. His forehead broke out in sweat. Roberto threw the sacks of fish into Erob’s saddlebags and climbed on his back. It always came back to his father. “Drop me at Fire Crag.” He broke mind-meld.
Erob landed at their usual spot, an hour’s run from the top of Fire Crag.
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