But now, it was life or death again—not Ezaara’s or her dragon’s, but her father’s.
“What did Handel say?” Roberto mind-melded.
They left the orchard behind, speeding over the fields toward the granite crags of Dragon’s Teeth—the vicious peaks surrounding the basin of Dragons’ Hold.
“He said my father was dying. That I should prepare.” Ezaara clenched her hands around Zaarusha’s spinal ridge. “Which doesn’t help, if I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”
An image of Pa’s tanned face shot through her head, curly dark hair, green eyes gleaming as he shared a joke. He was so full of life. She’d learned many of her combat skills from him. A pang of loss hit her. This was the first she’d heard of her family since imprinting with Zaarusha and leaving Lush Valley on dragonback.
“Zaarusha, I didn’t even say goodbye.” A lump constricted her throat. Shards, what if she never saw him again? Or Ma and Tomaaz?
“Imprinting is like that. It changes lives.” Zaarusha, the dragon queen, sent a wave of warmth through her.
“I know, but if he’s dead—”
“I can’t see them,” Roberto melded, turning his head to scan the ranges to the west.
“Handel will be here soon enough,” Zaarusha replied. “Then we’ll know.”
Erob flipped his midnight-blue wings, Roberto leaning into his neck as he shot up the cliff. “Where to?” Erob asked. “The infirmary or Zaarusha’s den?”
“Infirmary,” Ezaara replied.
“If Fleur left anything of worth.” The venom in Zaarusha’s tone hit home.
Yes, what if Fleur, the traitorous master healer, had destroyed the remedy her father needed?
“May the rust vipers of the Robandi Wastelands destroy her and her family,” Roberto snapped.
There was a loud crack and a bronze dragon appeared above the ledge to the infirmary, a rider slumped over his back.
“Pa!” Ezaara’s voice echoed off the mountainside. How in the Egg’s name had Handel appeared in midair like that?
“Dragon’s claws and fangs! Never seen that happen before,” Roberto said.
Handel dropped to the ledge, bunching his legs to soften the impact. Still, Pa’s body slipped as he landed.
“Zaarusha! Hurry!”
Ezaara slid out of the saddle and raced over. Roberto was already there, untying Pa’s harness. His midnight eyes flashed with sympathy as he lifted her father down.
Gods, Pa was pale. He was breathing, but barely.
Roberto lifted him into the infirmary, stepping over slashed mattresses and bottles and jars strewn on the floor.
Dropping some herbs onto a table, Adelina, Roberto’s sister, rushed over. “Sorry, we haven’t finished cleaning this mess up yet. Kierion’s gone to— What’s happened? Who’s this?” Dark smudges ringed her eyes.
“Ezaara’s pa,” Roberto said as he eased Pa onto a bed.
Pa’s hands were curled into fists, his wrists bent at odd angles. His arms were bunched across his torso, as if he was having a spasm. Ezaara picked up his hand to uncurl his fingers, but they were rigid. She felt his pulse. “He’s still alive, but it looks like he’s frozen in the middle of a fit.”
Roberto and Adelina exchanged a meaningful glance.
“What?” Ezaara shot. “What aren’t you telling me?”
Roberto nodded at Adelina. “It’s limplock. Do you have any remedy?”
Ezaara had never heard of limplock.
“I’ll get it.” Adelina dashed into a curtained alcove. She reappeared a moment later with some vials of yellow granules. “I remembered you telling me about limplock, in Naobia, Roberto, when you returned from Death Valley. Lucky you did, because a girl from Lush Valley arrived while you two were away, and she’d been limplocked, too.”
Lush Valley—Ezaara’s home. “Who was it?” Ezaara asked, examining a vial.
“Lovina. You must know her. She’s a friend of your brother’s.” Adelina uncorked a vial.
Lovina? Old Bill’s daughter? She’d never been a friend of Tomaaz’s. But who knew what had happened since she’d left? “How do we give this remedy? Mix it with water?”
Roberto shook his head. “Like this.” He leaned over Pa, prizing his jaw open, and nodded at Adelina. “Slowly.”
Adelina shook a few granules onto Pa’s tongue, while Ezaara held Pa’s hand, stroking his clenched fingers. No matter how she tried to straighten them, the moment she let go, they cramped. She felt Pa’s pulse again. It was fast and thready.
“Giving him the remedy too quickly could damage his nerves,” Roberto explained. “Limplock paralyzes the body slowly over a few days. It starts at the hands and feet and works its way deeper, until the heart finally stops beating. It’s good your father got here in time.”
“In time?” Ezaara tried to swallow. “You mean it’s not too late?”
“I hope not.” His midnight eyes blazed. “We’ll do whatever we can.”
Pa’s jerkin was stained with blood and a dried green substance. Ezaara gently eased the fabric back, examining a wound above his left breast. “An arrow got him.” She pulled some clean herb out of the healer’s pouch at her waist and set about treating his injury, while Roberto administered the limplock remedy.
There was a knock at the infirmary door. Adelina went to answer it.
Already, Pa’s breaths were deeper, more rhythmic.
A thin girl entered the infirmary, ducking shyly behind a curtain of pretty brown hair. “Oh, you’re busy,” she said, backing toward the door. The girl’s blue eyes flew open. “Ezaara?” She glanced at the bed. “What happened to Hans?” she cried, rushing forward. “Oh, limplock. That’s awful. It hurts so much.”
“Lovina?” It couldn’t be. This pretty girl with soft brown hair and blue eyes was Old Bill’s daughter?
“Hello, Ezaara.” She spoke quietly and leaned over Pa, taking his other hand. “Did Bill hurt him, too?” She rubbed Pa’s hands. “My hands were cold when I was limplocked.”
It was the most
