Above them, Erob was approaching.
Could it have been him? Had Roberto instructed Erob to put her off, to embarrass her in front of everyone? Did he want her to fail? Handel’s vision flashed to mind: Roberto—lip curled, face full of hate.
“Sofia needs stitches. Roberto,” Master Derek barked, “please fly her to the infirmary at once.”
Ezaara bound Sofia’s leg, then squeezed her hand, leaving blood on Sofia’s fingers.
“Ezaara.” Simeon’s concerned amber eyes met hers. “You look unwell. Perhaps you should rest.”
Master Derek nodded. “Good idea, Simeon. Ezaara, you’re excused for the afternoon.”
“But I—”
“Take a break,” Master Derek snapped. “The rest of you, back to training.”
Erob landed on the grass nearby. Roberto carried Sofia over and they flew off to the caverns.
“On my way.” Zaarusha was flying toward them.
Ezaara hobbled toward the queen, her ankle searing.
Simeon steadied her. “My Queen’s Rider. Let me help.”
“I’m fine, really.” Ezaara leaned on him, tears welling in her eyes. “It was an accident, but it looked like I stabbed her intentionally, didn’t it?” She tried to control the quiver in her voice.
“Well … um …” Simeon smiled brightly. “I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. Come on, a cup of herbal tea will make you feel better.”
He’d avoided her question. It was that bad.
Ezaara melded with Zaarusha. “I’ve messed up.” She showed Zaarusha her memory of Sofia’s wound. “I’ve injured a new friend.”
“Stop being so hard on yourself. Riders get injured in training all the time. Sofia will be all right.” Zaarusha landed, nudging Ezaara with her snout. “Erob compared it to a tear in a wing muscle. It’ll heal. I’m more worried about the rogue dragon that was imagining burning you. I’ve ordered all the dragons to search for the culprit.”
“There was a lot of blood.”
“If Sofia had scales, she wouldn’t have been hurt.”
“But she was hurt. And I did it.”
Simeon helped Ezaara into the saddle, then climbed up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. His warmth was comforting.
“My cane—” Where had she left it?
“Don’t worry,” Simeon said. “I’ve asked Mathias to bring it back.”
“We should go straight to the infirmary to see Sofia.”
“No, you’ve had a shock. You need to rest. There’ll be time to see her after my mother has stitched her wound.”
“But it’s my fault. I should—”
“Ezaara, do you really think Sofia wants to see the woman who just stabbed her?”
“No,” she whispered, slumping.
“Sorry if I sounded harsh.” Simeon’s voice was soft, near her ear. “I’m only trying to protect you.”
Zaarusha landed on the ledge outside her den, lying flat so she could dismount. Ezaara’s legs were shaking so badly, Simeon had to steady her.
He helped her sit on her bed and pulled off her boots, then took a cup of water out to Zaarusha, who heated it. Pulling a small pouch of herbs from his pocket, he sprinkled some in the cup, then left it to steep. He tugged the covers over Ezaara.
“Thank you.” She lay back on her pillows, exhausted. “I keep messing up, Simeon. Now Sofia’s hurt. I’m a terrible Queen’s Rider.”
“I believe in you.” He hesitated.
“What is it?”
“Well … no, I shouldn’t say disparaging things about Master Roberto.” He bit his lip.
“Go on, tell me.”
“Roberto has angry outbursts … dark secrets. Watch yourself around him, Ezaara. He’s like a rogue dragon, unpredictable and dangerous.”
Had Erob given her the burning vision? Did Roberto want her to fail?
“And his sister isn’t always as sweet as she seems.”
Ezaara frowned. Had Adelina befriended her to work against her?
Simeon smoothed her hair. “Now I’ve made you worried. Sorry, ignore me, it’s probably nothing.” He held out the cup. “Here, drink your tea. It’ll help you relax.”
Ezaara reached for the cup. The tea was bitter and gray; not woozy weed, then. She took a sip and wrinkled her nose. “What is this?”
“Restorative tea.” He pulled a comical grimace. “You know, the worse it tastes, the better it works.”
“This must be really good for me, then.”
He chuckled, watching her drink.
The tea seeped through Ezaara, making her muscles warm and her eyelids droop.
§
Ezaara groaned and dragged her eyelids open. The den was swimming before her. Head pounding and muscles aching, she grabbed a basin and vomited. What on earth had she eaten?
The shrill notes of the dawn chorus pierced her skull. She’d slept from the afternoon, right through the night, until morning. Not a good look for the Queen’s Rider. Especially after stabbing someone.
She had to check on Sofia. She should have gone last night. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, but the cavern spun.
After a few moments, everything stilled. Where was her cane? She groaned again. Mathias had forgotten to bring it back. “Zaarusha.”
“Sorry, Ezaara, I’m in a council meeting. Tharuks are on the move, marching across the Flatlands, destroying settlements and taking slaves.”
Great, while the Queen’s Rider was in bed, monsters were attacking the realm. Maybe the realm would be better off if she was banished to the Wastelands. Stupid thought. She had to be less of a burden to the queen. Ezaara washed her face, then hobbled along the stone tunnels toward the infirmary.
Her ankle throbbed. She leaned on the rough walls for support, scraping her hands. She passed the mess cavern, but it was early, so few people were about. Torches flickered as she made her way west along the tunnel network. Around the corner, footfalls tromped on stone.
Alban appeared. “Where have you been?” he sneered. “You lowlife, disappearing after stabbing Sofia.”
“I’ve been sick.”
“You haven’t visited her, haven’t asked about her. Haven’t even shown your face.” His body was taut. His gray eyes, flinty. “You look as guilty
