“What did the archers do to deserve having all their arrows stolen?”
Before he could think, indignation had Kierion blurting it out, “Those arrow flingers filled our scabbards with honey, sir, so we couldn’t draw our swords. Took hours to clean up the mess.”
“Indeed.” He scratched his beard. “I’ll definitely shorten your tenure in the kitchens if you manage to get your enemies to front up to kitchen duty too.” Lars stabbed a finger at him. “But remember, the archers are not your real enemies. Tharuks are. Those same arrow flingers may save your lives in battle. From now on, I want to see teamwork.”
That would be impossible. “Yes, sir, I’ll see what I can do.”
“No, Kierion, don’t just try. Make it happen. Now, go and retrieve those arrows.”
Kierion nodded. What else could he do? If he didn’t want to lose his chance at being a dragon rider, he had to find some way of breaching the growing rivalry between the arrow fling—no, the archers and the sword fighters. Rivalry he’d been happy inflaming. He turned to walk from Lars’ cavern.
“Before you go, Kierion, there’s one thing I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Kierion turned back. “Yes?”
“Is it true that, back in Montanara, you strung a whole flock of chickens up a tree without harming any of them?”
Kierion groaned inwardly. So that gossip had spread to Dragons’ Hold too. His face grew hot. He met Lars’ gaze anyway. “Yes, sir, I did.”
Lars laughed. “Brilliant, absolutely brilliant. Now, go and fetch those arrows back before I get Singlar to flame your breeches.”
As Kierion shut Lars’ door, the council leader was still chuckling.
Great. Scaling two hours up Lookout Peak to retrieve the sledge full of arrows was going to be easy compared to convincing both the arrow flingers and the blade thrusters to do weeks of kitchen duty—and learn to work well together. But Lars was right. They needed to fight tharuks, not each other.
§
Lovina and Gret were about to enter the girls’ sleeping cavern when a sharp voice echoed down the corridor. “Ezaara as Queen’s Rider? That’s the biggest joke I’ve heard in years. She doesn’t deserve the title.” Lovina put her arm out to stop Gret from rounding the corner and pressed her finger to her lips. Gret raised her eyebrows and they huddled against the stone wall to listen.
“But Zaarusha chose her,” said a young voice.
“Don’t be stupid. We all know Ezaara’s not the rightful Queen’s Rider. It contradicts Anakisha’s prophecy.”
“What do you mean? She imprinted with Zaarusha.”
“How do we really know that? She could have fooled the queen. Anakisha’s prophecies have never failed, therefore Ezaara can’t be Queen’s Rider.”
Lovina turned to Gret mouthing, ‘What?’
“Come on, we’re going to be late to training.” Footsteps approached.
Gret yanked Lovina back down the tunnel and around a corner. “There’s somewhere we can talk along here.” They jogged further until they were outside Ezaara’s cavern, then Gret pulled Lovina down the Queen’s Rider’s tunnel and into a hidden alcove opposite Ezaara’s door, barely large enough for both of them.
“I never knew this was here, and I’ve often visited Ezaara.”
“Erob showed me this place.”
Lovina arched an eyebrow. “A dragon couldn’t fit in here.”
Gret chuckled. “By mind-meld. He asked me to watch Ezaara one night. I caught Simeon trying to sneak into her chamber.”
“Thank the Egg, him and his parents have been banished. What’s this prophecy Sofia was talking about?” Tomaaz had said she had the gift of prophecy. Maybe she could learn something. A tiny bud of wonder started to unfurl inside Lovina. Could she—Bill’s useless slave, less than the dust under his feet—have a valuable talent? If she did, she could contribute to Dragons’ Realm. She wouldn’t be a nobody, shackled and beaten; she could be special—like Anakisha.
Gret snorted. “Anakisha prophesied about the next Queen’s Rider. There’s a verse or something. Apparently Ezaara doesn’t fit the criteria.”
“Why?”
“Ssh.”
The other girls were barreling past on their way to training. “I’ll beat you all at knife throwing,” Sofia said, her cruel laughter hammering Lovina’s ears like a woodpecker.
When they were gone, Gret said, “Look, it’s some old prophecy made almost twenty years ago. But I know Ezaara’s the true Queen’s Rider. I’ve seen her fly. I’ve seen her with Zaarusha. Besides, Master Roberto tested her—he’d know if she was fake.” She shook her head. “I’m not sure how much use prophecy is. The last master of prophecy was hopeless, and Anakisha’s prophecy is a stupid legacy that makes people argue. Come on, we’d better get to class.”
Gret had a point. Lovina’s shoulders slumped.
“Hey, what’s up?” Gret said as they walked to class. “Don’t worry, Sofia’s wrong. Ezaara’s fine as Queen’s Rider. That prophecy was dumb.”
Exactly. The bud of hope inside Lovina withered.
Erob’s Rescue
Tomaaz and Pa were finally ready. Ezaara patted Zaarusha’s side. “You’ve been very patient.”
“I’m itching to get my son,” the queen replied.
“You ready?” Pa asked, seated on Handel. Tomaaz was wedged in behind him. Maazini was too exhausted to come with them, his orange scales pale, even in the blazing sunset.
Ezaara patted Zaarusha’s saddlebag. “Healing supplies, fishing nets, and I also brought a waterskin, in case Erob’s thirsty.”
Boots thudded in Handel’s den, and Adelina ran onto the ledge. “Lars finally said I can help rescue Erob.” Her cheeks were pink and voice breathy.
Ezaara melded with Singlar, Lars’ dragon. “Is Lars all right with Adelina coming along?” she asked.
“He relented a few minutes ago. It seems she wore him down,” came the old dragon’s sardonic reply.
Ezaara sent him a mental chuckle. Good. It made sense Adelina was coming. Besides being Roberto’s sister, Adelina knew Erob the best. Although how she’d convinced Lars, Ezaara had no idea. “Adelina can ride with me,” she said.
Zaarusha
