Adelina rolled her eyes. “I know the feeling. Mine’s like that too.”
“You have a brother?”
“Only one, thank a nest full of dragon’s eggs! But he’s not too bad.”
“Mine’s all right most of the time too.” She’d broken her promise to him. What had Tomaaz made of her disappearing without a word?
Every step was agony, but Ezaara forced a smile and nodded at people in the tunnels. It took forever to get back to her den, and by then, she was starving.
Roberto was slumped in one of her chairs, dozing. Dark lashes swept his olive skin above pronounced cheek bones. Below his left eye was a tiny scar shaped like a crescent moon. Stubble edged his jaw. Last night, without him speaking, she’d heard him telling Erob to be gentle as they’d flown home—strange—she must’ve heard his thoughts, or Erob’s. Asleep, he looked peaceful. Younger.
Adelina helped Ezaara into bed, then slugged Roberto on the shoulder. “Hey, sleepyhead, wake up.”
He rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t realize I’d dropped off.”
What? The master of mental faculties and imprinting hadn’t frosted Adelina for punching him? Not like him at all.
Hands on hips, Adelina replied, “You’ve been up all night again, haven’t you?”
Ezaara cringed. She was speaking like that to a master?
“I couldn’t sleep.” He ran a hand through his hair, then spotted Ezaara and stiffened, a cool mask slipping over his face. “Good morning, Ezaara, Honored Rider of Queen Zaarusha.”
“I can’t believe you’re visiting before she’s eaten,” Adelina complained. “She’s injured, exhausted and needs a break.” She picked up the bowl of porridge and walked toward the bed.
“Look out,” Roberto called.
Adelina tripped over a long stick leaning against his chair. The tray flew out of her hands. The bowl smashed, and porridge splattered over the floor. She glared at Roberto. “Who put that there? You?”
He jumped to his feet, picking up the largest pottery shards. “Sorry.”
Adelina waved at the mess on the floor. “Now look what you’ve made me do!” Suddenly she laughed. “Between me and Ezaara, we’re pretty good at throwing food. I’ll grab a cloth and some more breakfast.”
Roberto called, “No, I’ll get—” but Adelina disappeared before he could finish. He picked up the tray, placing the shards on it, then turned and got the stick. Stepping over splatters of porridge and cream, he handed it to Ezaara. “Sorry about the mess,” he said. “I came to bring you this.”
It was a cane. The head was wrapped in soft leather. “For me?”
He nodded, onyx eyes scanning her face. “Go on, unwrap it.”
Carved into the handle was a likeness of Zaarusha with a girl on her back. “Is this rider me?”
“It is.” His voice softened. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? It’s amazing. Look, Zaarusha has tiny scales.” She didn’t dare tell him the rider was much too pretty to be her. “Why did you make it?”
“I thought a cane would help you get around.”
After her fiasco last night, she needed some dignity—a cane would help. Ezaara traced Zaarusha’s snout and ran her finger down the spinal ridges.
Roberto shrugged. “Besides, I couldn’t sleep, so I needed to do something.” He took her hand and placed it over the girl’s back. His palm was warm. “This is the smoothest place to hold, otherwise the spinal ridges will dig into your palm. If you use the cane on your good side, not the injured side, it’ll take the weight of your sore ankle. Here, try it.”
Ezaara got out of bed, leaned on the cane and took a couple of halting steps, careful not to go near the porridge. It was slow, but she could get around on her own. She sat back on her bed. The carving was exquisite, the detail so perfect. He’d made a masterpiece, to save her pride. “Thank you, this must’ve taken you ages.”
He ducked his head, suddenly looking shy. It suited him. “I’m glad you like it.”
“Here you go,” called Adelina from the doorway. She had a new tray in her hands and a pail and some cloths slung over her arm.
Roberto took a cloth and started cleaning up the spilled food and broken pottery.
Adelina brought Ezaara’s breakfast over. “I’m sorry, there wasn’t any more porridge left, so I’ve brought you some fresh bread and fruit. That should—” She stopped, staring at the cane. Spinning, Adelina faced Roberto. “Is that Ma’s walking stick?”
Roberto’s boot crunched on a shard. His head snapped up.
Adelina stared at him, tension flickering in her gaze.
Ma’s walking stick? Adelina’s hair was dark, like Roberto’s. They had the same dark eyes. His nose was long and straight, while she had a cute snub nose, but they both had that smooth olive skin—Roberto was Adelina’s annoying elder brother.
She was the little girl in his memory, crouched, trembling, behind the door with him.
“Yes, it’s Ma’s old stick,” he said. “Our Queen’s Rider is in need, Adelina.” He finished wiping up the floor, and put the last of the mess in the pail.
“I know that, dummy.” She took the cane from Ezaara. “Wow, look at that handle.” She grinned and slugged Roberto again. “I was right, you didn’t sleep last night, did you?”
Ignoring Adelina, Roberto bowed. “Honored Queen’s Rider, your training commences today. I’ll see you in imprinting class after you’ve finished your breakfast. We’ll be in the orchard. If you need assistance to get there, Zaarusha should let Erob know.” He nodded tersely, picked up the pail of porridge and shards, and left.
Adelina laughed. “He’s crazy. Imagine him carving all night.”
“You don’t mind me having your Ma’s cane?”
Unease flashed across Adelina’s face. “It’s fine. She doesn’t need it anymore.”
Adelina didn’t look fine. “Are you sure? I mean, I can always find another
