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
