“Handel and I are leaving tonight to collect your father.” Liesar tilted her head. “We’ll collect your brother too.”
“So, I’ll see my family? Here?” Ezaara couldn’t help grinning.
“Marlies is elsewhere,” said Liesar.
“She has to find Zaarusha’s son.” Handel’s voice was grave. “Once she’s proven her loyalty, she may return.”
Ezaara took a deep breath. “Is she in danger?”
“Not yet,” Liesar replied. That didn’t sound promising. “Handel, we must leave. I’ll meet you near the hunting grounds.” With a flip of her wings, Liesar soared away.
Handel was airborne in moments. Ezaara hugged his spinal ridge as dizzying visions flashed before her.
She saw herself in the main cavern the night she’d arrived, hair unkempt and face streaked with dirt. Roberto, lip curled in disdain, placed his hands at her temples. She collapsed, and he caught her, a rare softness flashing across his features.
A surge of energy flowed through Ezaara as more images from Handel flitted through her head: tharuks killing and maiming people; dragons blasting their enemies with fire; her falling and Zaarusha diving to save her; Tomaaz looking worn and sick; Ma unconscious, battered and bruised; Roberto, face twisted with hate, lunging at her, making her heart thud and breath catch in her throat.
“Handel. Stop!” she screamed.
The images subsided.
“What was that?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. Usually ancient dragon magic only lets me share prophecies with my rider, or with one whom it concerns. This rush of visions came, unbidden. Perhaps it’s because you’re the Queen’s Rider and the fate of our nation hangs on your actions and Zaarusha’s.”
Hopefully these prophecies weren’t fate. Tomaaz had looked gaunt and thin. Ma was obviously dying. And with the way Roberto had looked, who’d need enemies?
“The future can change, depending on people’s decisions. When I know more, I’ll let you know. In the meantime, don’t tell anyone that you can meld with any dragon.” Handel clattered down on the mouth of Zaarusha’s den. “Be careful, my Queen’s Rider.”
Ezaara slid down his side. After seeing his visions, how could she know who to trust?
Knife’s Edge
Ezaara leaned heavily on her cane. “How much further to the mess cavern?”
“Just around this corner.” Adelina paused. “Wait, I’ve got something in my boot.” She bent and undid her laces.
Ezaara suppressed a smile. “Adelina, I know there’s nothing in your boot. They’re laced too tightly for anything to get in. You’re making excuses again to spare my ankle. Yesterday, when you said you needed the latrine, you forgot to go.”
Adelina’s cheeks flushed. “I— um.” She grinned. “All right, I’m a lousy actor, but you need a rest. You have to impress the masters and the other riders.”
Ezaara grimaced. “Too late for that, isn’t it? Everyone saw me fall flat on my backside at the feast.”
“They saw you fly a loop, too. Don’t forget that.”
“Come on, let’s get my next blundering entrance over with.”
Adelina giggled.
Ezaara smoothed her riding jerkin with her free hand, and they walked around the corner.
The mess cavern was a babbling hubbub of voices, more crowded than Lush Valley’s square on market day. Ezaara recognized some of the masters, seated among riders at jam-packed tables. Her stomach grumbled as she helped herself to freshly-baked bread and spicy soup.
A woman rushed over, Simeon at her heels. Wisps of her blonde hair were haloed in light streaming from holes in the cavern walls. Simeon introduced her. “Ezaara, this is my mother, Master Healer, Fleur.”
Ma’s old role.
Fleur bowed. “My Queen’s Rider, how’s your ankle?”
“It’s all right,” Ezaara replied. The last thing she wanted was more fuss.
“I’m sure it’s fine.” Simeon winked behind his mother’s back. At least he understood.
Fleur patted Ezaara’s arm. “Simeon can pop by later to check you have everything you need. He often helps me in the infirmary and knows how to treat sprains.”
Adelina gave Fleur an overly-effusive smile. “That won’t be necessary. The Queen’s Rider’s ankle will be better in no time.” She turned her back on Fleur and Simeon, gesturing to a nearby table. “Why don’t you get a seat, Ezaara, and I’ll bring your lunch.”
“Please, let me help you.” Simeon took Ezaara’s arm.
It was a lovely gesture. “Thanks, but I can manage. This cane does the trick.”
His eyes flicked over the carving. “Surely the help of a friend is better than an old stick?”
Her cane was hardly an old stick—it was a beautiful gift. Before she could respond, murmurs reached her over the clatter of cutlery.
“Twisted her ankle, silly thing …”
“She’s too naive, too weak …”
Ezaara lifted her chin, pretending not to hear. So much for Adelina’s theory—flying a loop hadn’t impressed anyone for long. One fall, and it was forgotten.
As she sat, a tinkling peal cut through the din. Master Lars was shaking a bell. Everyone quieted, and Lars stood. “I’d like to welcome Ezaara, Honored Rider of Queen Zaarusha. She started classes today and will soon be engaged in full training. I trust you’ll welcome and befriend her, and I wish everyone a pleasant meal.”
Most of the riders applauded. A few snickered. Across the cavern, Roberto was scowling. She’d never impress him.
Simeon was attentive during lunch, but Adelina was as bristly as a boar, eating in silence. Soon Ezaara was laughing at Simeon’s anecdotes about living among dragon riders.
“So, you’re not a rider yet?” she asked.
“No, but I’ll imprint soon enough. My parents are both riders, so it’ll happen.” He shredded a bread roll, scattering crumbs on the table. “Gives me more time to train before I have to fight tharuks face-to-face.”
She shuddered, remembering the battle in the Western Pass. She’d never be good enough to lead an army of dragons and riders against tharuk troops.
Simeon’s eyes met hers. “I’d love to fight tharuks beside you.”
Ezaara’s cheeks grew warm. She
