“Where have they all come from?” Lars asked Marlies.
“Naobia, Spanglewood and the Flatlands. We’re lucky most of them were gathered at Mage Gate for their wizard trials. Now, we can train our riders to work with them more easily.”
“Marlies.” Tonio nodded tersely. “I misjudged the situation. With these numbers, as long as there are no rogue mages, they could be an asset.”
Despite himself, Lars had to agree. Imagine all that firepower.
Talons scratched stone as dragons landed and their passengers disembarked. Most of the blue guards carried four full saddlebags, and the rearmost wizards had bedding strapped to their backs.
“I thought they’d left in a hurry,” said Lars. “How did they have time to pack?”
Marlies smiled. “I expect they used magic.”
“Well,” said Tonio, grinning, his hand drifting to his sword, “if they think they can move in permanently, I know some magic that would send them packing.”
§
It’d been ten days since Marlies had sent Ezaara to Death Valley. Ten days of her waiting up at night, worrying whether she’d sent her daughter to her death by encouraging her to chase after the young Naobian master.
Marlies had known Mazyka, and fought beside her. Understood the pain Master Giddi had gone through and why he loved her so much. She’d been brilliant. Impulsive. And loyal. Mazyka had taken a large contingent of mages through the world gate to Zens’ world to find a means of destroying Zens. She’d been trying to fix her mistake. But both councils had misunderstood and assumed she was seeking more power.
And they’d insisted Giddi lock her out forever.
She shook her head. In her eyes, that gave this council no reason to ban her daughter from loving who she wanted. But had her encouragement—and her wrath at Tonio’s hatred for Roberto—sealed Ezaara’s fate?
Liesar mind-melded, “Riona and Maazini are approaching, bringing Ezaara.”
Thank the flaming First Egg and dragon gods. “And Adelina?”
“They have her too. They’re injured, but all alive.”
She sighed in relief. They’d made it. Injuries she could heal, but she couldn’t bring anyone back from the dead.
“And Roberto?”
“Still captive.”
That poor man. How much could one person withstand? She whirled. “Hans, Leah, Tomaaz is bringing Ezaara and Adelina home. Ready the clean herb, bandages, clear-mind berries and limplock remedy.”
“I’ll make sure we have piaua on hand too. Is Ezaara all right?” Hans melded as she organized supplies with Leah.
Marlies strode to the ledge. “She’s alive. In this game, that’s what counts.”
§
Ezaara had stayed the night in the infirmary, being mollycoddled and healed by Ma, lectured by Lars and Tonio about losing the dragon queen, and soothed by Pa. Tomaaz got it. He knew there wasn’t much to celebrate—they’d left Roberto and Zaarusha behind. Jael and Fenni, the two mages, got it too. All of them were determined to return. But the council had expressly forbidden her to leave the hold. And without Zaarusha she couldn’t go anywhere.
She reached her cavern, entered and closed the door. Leaning her back against the sturdy wood, the aching hole in her chest caved in. She slid to the floor and buried her head in her hands. Was this what it meant to love? To feel the heart-wrenching agony of leaving Roberto alone in a filthy, stinking hole with a vicious enemy? What if he never came back?
Gods, what use was being Queen’s Rider without Roberto? And what was a Queen’s Rider without a queen? Where was Zaarusha? Ezaara had assumed she was back at the hold, but no one had seen her since the feast. Eleven days ago. What if Zaarusha were dead? Her chest grew tight. It was hard to breathe.
Her few days in Death Valley felt like years. Roberto had been there for weeks. And she’d thought she could rescue him. If only she’d rallied the council, done a better job of convincing—
“Ezaara,” a dragon melded, breaking into her thoughts.
A familiar voice. One she hadn’t heard for a while. “Erob? Shards, I’m so sorry, I tried, but …” Tears ran down her cheeks, salt sliding over her lips.
“Ezaara, you should bathe. You’ll want to smell sweet for Roberto.”
“Very funny.” The thought made her cry harder.
“No, Ezaara, I’m serious. Zaarusha melded and she’s bringing him home.”
Zaarusha? And Roberto? Something light and sweet unfurled in her chest. “They’re safe?”
“Yes, she’s bringing him here. I’ve already told Maazini not to go back to Death Valley. Did you want me to ask Liesar to send Marlies here?”
“No, not yet.” Scrambling to her feet, Ezaara dashed to her bedside drawer and pulled out some healing supplies, spreading them on her bed. It might be greedy, but she wanted her first moments with Roberto alone.
A thud sounded on the ledge. A few heartbeats later, Erob’s head poked through the archway from Zaarusha’s den. He breathed over her bathtub, heating the water. “They’re going to be a while yet. You’ll feel better greeting him without the stench of tharuk in your hair.”
Ezaara threw her arms around Erob’s warm scaly neck. “Thank you.” This time, her tears were tears of gratitude.
“I’ll warn you when they reach Dragon’s Teeth.” Erob retreated to the ledge, his wingbeats sending flurries of snow through the den as he took to the sky to meet his mother and his rider.
Ezaara shut the door, abandoned her filthy riders’ garb, and sank into the warm water.
A short while later, she was combing her hair, when Zaarusha melded. “Ezaara, he’s home.” A wave of the queen’s exhaustion washed over Ezaara, making her knees falter.
“Hang on, Zaarusha, I’m coming.” She rushed outside to the ledge.
Zaarusha was descending, holding Roberto’s limp body in her talons.
A chill breeze slid along
