Zaarusha spiraled upward, sending Ezaara images of a steep dive down to the feast. Heart pounding, Ezaara leaned forward, tightening her grip.
Zaarusha roared.
This was it.
The dragon queen chortled. “I was only teasing. I wouldn’t dive and mess up your hair.”
Ezaara laughed as Zaarusha made a gentle descent.
§
Around Roberto, masters chatted quietly at the head table, which was laid with a creamy linen cloth edged in silver dragons. Murmurs from the crowd drifted on the evening air. Zaarusha roared, and everyone looked up, a hush falling over the crowd. Roberto squinted in the fading light. What were Zaarusha and Ezaara doing up so high? Showing off? Then he understood. Zaarusha was ensuring all eyes were upon Ezaara.
They landed and Ezaara sprang down, rubbing Zaarusha’s eye ridge.
Roberto shook his head—the crowd was in awe again.
Ezaara’s hair, tied in coils and loops, trailed fine silver and green threads that highlighted her eyes. A silver tunic and matching breeches hugged her curves, and she wore a healer’s pouch at her waist. She glanced at him, cheeks flushed from flying.
A dizzying rush hit Roberto, as if he was standing on the edge of Fire Crag. Colors, like a blazing sunset, filled his mind, then they were gone.
Ezaara appeared not to notice. She smiled. “Good evening, Honored Dragon Masters. Thank you for calling this feast.”
Roberto passed a glass of apple juice to Ezaara.
Lars raised his arms before the crowd. “We welcome Ezaara, Honored Rider.” He turned to her, voice booming, “Enjoy tonight’s feast as a token of our respect. On the morrow, you’ll commence training for your duties as Queen’s Rider. I propose a toast in your honor.”
Everyone held their glasses high. “To the Queen’s Rider.” Their voices echoed off the mountainsides. The crowd drank, then whistled and cheered as Ezaara drained her glass. Roberto gestured for Ezaara to step forward.
“Me?” she replied, wide-eyed.
She obviously wasn’t used to feast etiquette. “Of course. You need to reply to Lars’ welcome.”
She faced the folk. “Good people of Dragons’ Hold, I’m honored at your trust. I hope to keep it, and to come to know each of you well. Thank you for preparing this feast in honor of Zaarusha, Queen of Dragons’ Realm.”
Zaarusha roared at the applause from the crowd.
Ezaara turned back to him. “Was that all right?” she whispered.
Her response? It was a bit short, not very formal, but straight from her heart, and gave honor to Zaarusha. Folk loved it, but that would only get her so far. Roberto nodded. “It was fine, much better than you giggling through your vows today. As Queen’s Rider, you’ll need more decorum.”
“At least I didn’t forget my words,” she hissed.
It’s not as if he had to swear in a new Queen’s Rider every week. Anyone would’ve forgotten a word or two. He couldn’t expect a girl from Lush Valley to understand that, but a Queen’s Rider should. He guided her to a seat between him and Lars, and refilled her glass with apple juice.
“To a new era,” Lars announced, “and Ezaara’s successful training.”
Everyone raised their glasses again, then helped themselves to food.
Erob’s fish had ruined his appetite, so Roberto only put melon and sweet potato on his own plate.
Ezaara was staring at the laden platters, eyes as wide as a newborn dragonet’s. Coming from Lush Valley, she’d probably never seen such a feast. She helped herself to some olives, sweet potato and fish and they made small talk.
Lars put a hand on Roberto’s shoulder. “You did a good job this afternoon and last night, especially with only a short time to memorize the formal proceedings.”
“Thank you, Lars. I’m happy to serve the council and my queen.” Well, apart from serving with his mental gifts, but he wasn’t about to admit that his strength was his biggest challenge.
“Zens’ reach is growing, Roberto. You must train the Queen’s Rider thoroughly, but quickly. We don’t have the luxury of time.”
“I’ll do my best, Lars. We’ll have to see what else she’s capable of.”
“I know you’ll do a good job.”
When Roberto turned back, Ezaara was leaving the dais.
He frowned. The Queen’s Rider, abandoning the head table? Unheard of.
Queen’s Rider
Ezaara popped a tiny purplish-black fruit in her mouth. So, Roberto hadn’t liked her laughing that afternoon? He was so moody—he could go ride a dragon, for all she cared. She swallowed, but the fruit left a bitter aftertaste, like vinegar. Below the dais, hundreds of people were eating and chatting. She’d much rather sit down with them, than be up here on show.
“Do you like the olives?” Roberto asked, leaning toward her. “We grow them in Naobia.”
So, he was being friendly again, was he? “I’ve never had this fruit before. What did you call it?”
“An olive. Fruit?” He laughed. “They do grow on trees, but we pickle them in vinegar, so they’re savory, you see, not sweet.”
“Oh.” She felt so ignorant and stupid. Had he meant to sound like such a know-it-all?
He smirked. “Don’t feel bad. Coming from Lush Valley, you’ve probably never seen them. You can’t help being ignorant, having lived there.”
Ezaara snapped her jaw shut. Conversation with him was as bitter as the olives. Everyone down below seemed to be having much more fun. The sooner she could get away, the better.
Ignoring Roberto and his arrogant comments, Ezaara examined the myriad of cutlery beside her plate. This place was dragon-crazy—even the dessert spoons had dragons on them. Luckily, Adelina had told her which cutlery to use for what. Picking up her two-pronged fork with a dragon’s tail wound around the silver stem, she nibbled some sweet potato, careful not to drop any on her lovely silver tunic.
Roberto turned away to talk to Lars.
Now was her chance.
