They cheered. Dragons rumbled, flames flicking from their maws. Applause rang off the mountain faces.
“My legs are tired, Zaarusha.”
“Ready? I’m letting you go.” Zaarusha flung Ezaara upward with her powerful legs and caught her in the saddle. The queen pirouetted mid-air before the screaming crowd.
“Was that enough?” asked Ezaara.
“Nearly,” replied Zaarusha. “Take the ribbons from your hair, like the day you presented them to Roberto. We need to remind them of that day too, and the loyalty they felt for you, back then.”
Ezaara unfastened her ribbons, holding them high, and Zaarusha leap-frogged through the air.
“E-zaa-ra! Zaa-ru-sha! E-zaa-ra! Zaa-ru-sha!” the crowd chanted, the way they had on her flight test.
In a whirl of faces and sound, Ezaara felt completely happy—well, not completely. Roberto was still captive.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get him tomorrow.”
What if tomorrow was too late?
Dragon Race
Dragons flew to the starting line melted in the snow, their riders dismounting, boots crunching as they gathered to await instructions. Adelina came over to Ezaara. “That was impressive.” She hugged her.
“Thank you,” Ezaara replied. “Wasn’t Kierion brilliant?”
The smile Adelina gave was genuine. “Sure was, the scoundrel.”
A bunch of lads were clapping Kierion on the back.
“Well done, Ezaara,” a woman said. “That was impressive.”
Across the sea of people, Ma and Pa waved at her, smiling proudly.
Alyssa blew the horn for silence. “We acknowledge our Honored Queen’s Rider, Ezaara, as the champion stunt rider of Dragons’ Realm. We also honor Kierion’s bravery, although he may have had more competition if our senior riders had participated.”
“Not fair,” called Kierion among good-natured laughter.
“Congratulations to our stunt riders. Good luck to all of you with future stunts. These are valuable in learning agility and trust, but be careful,” Alyssa said. “We don’t want to lose you. You’ll all be needed in the war against Zens and his tharuks. I’ll turn the time to Master Lars.”
Lars’ icy-blue eyes swept the assembled riders and spectators. “I’d like to remind you that Ezaara is Queen’s Rider, has been since she imprinted, and will remain so. Any questions regarding her eligibility will be handled by the council. Just now, you’ve seen that she is fearless and has a deep bond with the dragon queen. Not one of you could do what she just did. Much will be required of her when we go to war against Commander Zens and his armies of tharuks. Do not envy the responsibility she’s shouldered.”
Someone jabbed Ezaara’s back. When she turned, everyone was looking at their council leader.
“You’ve seen the trust she has in Zaarusha,” Lars said. “Ezaara has earned the same trust from us. I ask that you give it willingly, freely. Let’s put an end to these vicious rumors and have peace among us as we face war with our enemy.” He stepped back.
“Ready?” Master Alyssa cried, holding her horn high. Everyone cheered. “You’ll race to the clearing at the far side of the lake, swoop down to the dead conifer and pluck a cone from its branches. The winner is the first to drop their cone in this basket.” She gestured to one of the huge baskets used for gathering fruit from the orchards. “Singlar has marked all of the cones in that tree, so there’s no cheating.”
“Got that, Kierion?” someone called.
“You’re just jealous,” he crowed, amid laughter.
“All trainees, including newly-imprinted riders, must participate,” Alyssa continued. “You’ll be racing against the Queen’s Rider and your masters, except for Master Derek and I. We’ll be judging the race. Any other riders can join in. The more who fly, the merrier. Now, go to your dragons, get to the start line, and await the horn. Good luck.”
“You’re a murderer, not a Queen’s Rider,” someone hissed, voice dripping venom.
Ezaara spun. The crowd was dispersing, so it was impossible to see who had spoken. “Did you hear that?” she asked Adelina.
“What?” Adelina asked.
“More insults.”
“Ignore them. Zaarusha chose you. No one else has that right.” Adelina said, dodging around a beefy rider.
“But Anakisha’s prophecy …” Ezaara pushed her way through the throng.
“Handel says it will be fulfilled.”
“How?”
Adelina shrugged. “Good luck.” They knocked fists and Adelina headed to Linaia.
“Trust me, it will work out,” Zaarusha melded.
“I do trust you. Others should too.” She was nearly at Zaarusha when someone shoved her. She spun to see Sofia, Alban and Nadira smirking. She glared at them. “Feeling well enough to bully people again, are you, Alban?”
Zaarusha roared, sending them scurrying. People turned and stared. “Climb up. Let’s race.”
Ezaara scrambled into the harness, strapping it tight. Zaarusha took off and roared again, sending a warning flame above Sofia, Alban and Nadira’s heads. “We’ll triumph over these gossipmongers, you’ll see.”
“Who’s the fastest dragon here?” asked Ezaara.
“I am, now that Syan is gone.” A wave of sorrow swept across Ezaara—Zaarusha’s, for her dead mate. “The next fastest are Erob, Ajeurina and Maazini, due to their royal blood.”
“Has Erob recovered fully?”
“He and Maazini are both fit again.”
In her worry over Roberto, she’d neglected Erob and Maazini. She must visit Erob when the race was over. He’d be pining for Roberto too. Dragons were landing, stamping, impatient to get going. They jostled into place, side by side, along the starting line, leaving at least two wing breadths between them.
Alyssa waved her horn. “Remember, healthy competition and strategy are allowed, but no violence. Save that for tharuks. Enjoy the race.”
“Let’s whip their tails.” Zaarusha’s body thrummed with suppressed excitement.
Cheers rose as dragons and riders were poised, coiled tight with tension, waiting for their signal. There was a short blast on the horn accompanied by Lysika’s roar.
A sea of dragons
