Her gaze swept the empty snow-covered basin.
What if Roberto didn’t come back? A chill climbed Ezaara’s spine. What if he was already dead?
Footfalls echoed behind her. Ma was approaching. Ezaara’s backside was freezing. How long had she been sitting, lost in her thoughts?
“Tomaaz is stirring,” Ma said.
Ezaara nodded and followed Ma into her cavern. The scent of clear-mind infusion hung in the air. Ma must have steeped the berries to wake her brother. Pa was sitting by her bed, his brow furrowed, watching her brother.
Head tossing, Tomaaz was moaning and muttering in his sleep.
Ezaara patted his hand. “Tomaaz, it’s all right. You’re safe at Dragons’ Hold. It’s me, Ezaara.”
His eyelids fluttered, then flew open. “Ezaara, I’ve failed,” he rasped. “Commander Zens has captured Roberto.”
War Council
“Ezaara, did you hear me?” Tomaaz asked, grasping her hand. “Roberto’s been captured by Commander Zens.”
Ezaara was lost for words. Her mind spun. Roberto was captive. Surely Zens would kill him.
“What happened, Tomaaz?” Pa asked.
“We were leaving Death Valley when tharuks attacked us. They forced Erob to the ground and dragged Roberto away. Maazini flamed tharuks and I shot some, but they drove us back with limplocked arrows.”
“When?” Pa asked.
“Five days ago.” Tomaaz looked at Ezaara. “Roberto had a message for you: something about his mother saying, teardrops amplify thoughts. Erob told Maazini to tell the Queen’s Rider.”
What did that mean?
Probably that she should hide her sorrow so no one knew how she felt. Ezaara resisted the urge to clutch her necklace. No one must know it was from Roberto.
“Make any sense?” Ma asked.
Ezaara shook her head. She didn’t dare tell anyone.
“Um, Ezaara, do you mind letting go of my fingers?” Tomaaz asked. “You’re crushing them.”
She glanced down—she had his hand in a death grip. “Sorry,” she said, releasing his fingers. “I’m so relieved you’re home. We need to sort out how to retrieve Roberto, but first, how’s your hip?”
How was she sounding so normal, so in control? Ezaara wanted to scream, rage, and pound the stone walls with her fists. Zens had nearly broken Roberto last time. She shuddered, remembering the awful memories he’d shared when they were in Naobia. Shocking, violent memories that had taken weeks for her to push to the back of her mind. And now Roberto was in that monster’s hands again. Ezaara clutched the crystal teardrop at her neck.
“Let’s see if you can stand. Hans, give him a hand,” Ma said. “Now, Tomaaz, flex your leg like this …”
As Ma tested Tomaaz’s reflexes, Ezaara went to the other side of her cavern to get changed. “Zaarusha, notify the dragons that I’m calling an urgent council meeting.” She couldn’t turn up in her nightdress and jerkin. She dressed mechanically, fastening her healer’s pouch at her waist. Instead of tugging her boots back on, she selected the shoes Roberto had given her for their race. Light and supple, they were hand-painted with a likeness of Zaarusha soaring over a lake, her colorful scales reflected in the water.
“Everyone’s been roused and is on their way, except Tonio, who will be a little late.”
So, the spymaster was off on business again. Ezaara was almost relieved. Tonio wasn’t exactly her favorite dragon master.
Ma had Tomaaz on his feet. He was still a little unsteady.
He needed a cane. Ezaara’s hand automatically fastened around the walking stick leaning against her wardrobe. Roberto had carved it for her when she’d twisted her ankle. Her throat grew tight. Even when she’d mistrusted him, he’d been caring. She held the beautiful handle, carved with herself upon Zaarusha, and offered it to Tomaaz. “Would this be helpful?”
Tomaaz took the cane. “Thanks, Ezaara.”
Ma nodded at Tomaaz. “Your range of motion is pretty good, and the wound has healed well, but it’ll feel odd while your muscles adjust to the new joint. Do you have any pain?”
Tomaaz screwed up his nose. “No pain, but it does feel weak, as if it might give out. The walking stick will be great.”
“I know you haven’t slept much, Tomaaz, but we’ve called a war council,” Ezaara said. “They’ll need to hear your report. Are you up to attending?”
“I haven’t had a chance to see Lovina or the boy yet. How have they been?”
“Both thriving,” Ma answered. “They’ll keep another hour or so. They’re probably fast asleep anyhow. You should attend the council first.”
“Of course he should,” Ezaara snapped. “We need to know what’s happened.” Oh shards, she sounded ratty. She had to do something or she’d crack.
Tomaaz gave her a long look, then nodded. “I’ll come.”
“I’ll bring him. Maazini is exhausted.”
“Zaarusha says she’ll take you,” Ezaara said, striding to the door. “I’m walking. I have an urgent errand on the way.” She went into the corridor and closed the door.
“Ezaara?” Zaarusha asked.
“I can’t stand it, Zaarusha. I have to do something or I’ll go mad.”
Ezaara started running, feet pounding the stone. She ran away from the council chamber, toward the main cavern, then took the left corridor down to the storerooms. A slow burn built in her muscles. She reached down deep, seeking sathir. The air shimmered with a thin ribbon of multi-colored light. That was her connection to Zaarusha. She strained to feel the deep blue of Erob and Roberto. Nothing. She wanted to scream, but didn’t dare, so instead, she exhaled forcefully, sucking in great gulps of air. Fire leapt into her veins—she was harnessing her dragon’s power. She sped through the dark subterranean tunnels.
“Run like the wind,” Zaarusha mind-melded. “Tomaaz and I have just arrived, but not everyone’s here yet. You have a few moments to purge your sorrow before you face the council.”
“Thank the dragon gods, you understand.”
Comfort washed over Ezaara, but she shrugged it off. Pushing
