No decent healer would use precious piaua for a twisted ankle. “This is nothing, really.”
Opening her healer’s pouch, Ezaara extracted a strip of cloth and passed it to Simeon. “Could you please wet this for me?”
“Of course. Use plenty of my salve before you bind it. It will help.” Simeon went off to get some water.
Wincing, she rubbed Ma’s healing salve into her aching flesh, biting back another groan. She stowed it in her pouch and took the cork off Simeon’s stinking salve, letting the harsh aroma mask the smell of Ma’s.
Sofia’s keen eyes missed nothing, so Ezaara held a finger to her lips and winked.
Grinning, Sofia murmured, “Wouldn’t say a word.”
Mathias rolled his eyes. “As if.”
Simeon returned. “I’m glad you used my salve. That’ll help.”
Sofia giggled.
Simeon shot Sofia a puzzled glance as he bound the damp bandage around Ezaara’s ankle. The coolness of the wet fabric was soothing. Moments later, he was proffering a heavily-laden plate. “You must be hungry, Ezaara. They say you arrived from Lush Valley late last night. That’s a long way to travel.”
In more ways than one. “That’s so thoughtful, Simeon,” Ezaara replied. “Thank you.”
While she ate, everyone at the table chatted. They were courteous and witty, making her laugh, but although Ezaara thoroughly enjoyed Simeon’s company, she felt hollow. No one here really knew her. They were only talking to her because she was Queen’s Rider. If she’d failed the tests, it would’ve been a different story.
Ezaara turned to the top table. All of the other masters were there, but Roberto was gone. She scanned the crowd, but couldn’t find him. She shrugged. Why should she care where he went?
Lars stepped down from the dais and perched on a stool before a giant harp. He plucked the strings, his gentle melody weaving its way through the crowd. As the music built, low-pitched notes rumbled through Ezaara like the roar of a dragon. Eyes closed in rapt concentration, Lars caressed the strings, increasing the intensity and pitch until a sweet harmony floated through the dark, making Ezaara yearn for dragon flight, the wild abandon, the sheer color, of winging through the skies.
Her heart soared. She wanted to be Zaarusha’s rider, not a healer or a painter of scarves. This was her destiny.
The music came to an end, the last note vibrating through the night.
“Thrilling, isn’t it?” Simeon whispered. “I’ve had a very pleasant evening, Honored Queen’s Rider. Thank you for allowing me to keep you company.”
It had been pleasant. “Thank you.”
He laughed, touching her hand. “My pleasure, Ezaara.” He smiled warmly. “Did you know my parents are masters on the council? As Queen’s Rider, you’ll soon be on the council too, so I’m sure we’ll see much more of each other.”
“That would be nice.” It was good to be with someone friendly, instead of that arrogant …. Her gaze drifted to Master Roberto’s chair. Where had he gone?
The soft note of a horn echoed from the shadows. People started clearing away the tables.
“Please take this and use it regularly.” Simeon handed her the pot of his mother’s smelly unguent, then helped Ezaara to stand, one arm around her shoulders. “Allow me to assist you home.”
Roberto materialized from beyond the torchlight. “That won’t be necessary,” he snapped. “I’ll take her home. Don’t let me catch you hanging around the Queen’s Rider again.”
Ignoring Roberto, Simeon bowed. “Please, let me know if you need anything, my Queen’s Rider.” He stalked off into the dark.
Who was Roberto to say who could and couldn’t walk her home? “Simeon was helping me. He only—”
Roberto stepped closer. “Are you all right?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Simeon’s not to be trusted.”
She’d been on show since she’d arrived and she could do nothing right in his eyes. “At least he’s friendly!” Ezaara hobbled away.
Roberto didn’t get the hint. He fell into step and put his arm around her back to support her. “You need to be more careful.”
“I’m nearly seventeen, and you’re treating me like a littling,” Ezaara snapped. She didn’t dare admit that his support was easing the ache in her ankle.
Within moments, dragons’ wings whooshed nearby. Zaarusha and Erob landed on the grass.
“Ezaara,” Zaarusha crooned, “are you all right?”
“Yes, Zaarusha, I’m fine.” Ezaara glared at Roberto. “Did you call them?”
“Erob can bring you home,” said Zaarusha. “You’re in no condition to fly solo.”
“I don’t want to fly with them.”
“Roberto’s going to be training you, so you should get to know him.” The queen leaped into the sky, her wingbeats whispering through the dark.
Roberto scooped Ezaara up.
“Put me down. I can walk.”
“It looks painful.” Roberto replied, mint on his breath.
Not as painful as his comments about Lush Valley and her ignorance.
Carrying her over to Erob, he hoisted her onto the dragon’s back. When he stepped back, there was sweet potato smeared on his shoulder.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her cheeks flamed. “There must’ve been food on my tunic.”
“As if that matters!” He laughed, swinging into the saddle.
“Gently,” she sensed him think to his dragon, and they ascended skyward.
§
Lars raised his head. There it was again, a knock at the door. At this time of night? Careful not to wake Lydia, he nudged back the covers and pulled the heavy curtain across their sleeping quarters. He padded across the chilly stone in the dining cavern and opened the door.
“Tonio, come in.”
The spymaster glanced back down the tunnel and shut the door, his sharp brown eyes flitting to their sleeping chamber. “Are we alone, Lars?”
Lars nodded and threw a log on the dying embers. “Lydia’s fast asleep. Take a seat.” They sat down. “What is it?”
“It’s the Queen’s Rider,” Tonio said.
