“Not quite.” Zaarusha descended, lowering Roberto toward the ledge.
Ezaara rushed over, arms out, to receive him. The queen delicately lowered him into her embrace.
Zaarusha nuzzled her neck. “Must hunt.” She flew with ragged wingbeats toward the hunting grounds.
Roberto was bloody, gaunt and bitterly cold. So unlike himself, her eyes pricked. Ezaara carried him inside and laid him on her bed. Moments later, Erob’s bulk filled the archway as he squeezed his head and a shoulder through the door. “How is he?”
The shackle marks on his wrist and ankle were raw and weepy. Ezaara cut open the sides of his ratty breeches and shirt to check his body for injuries. The old wounds she’d healed in Death Valley were overlaid with fresh gashes and bruises. An angry welt had raised a lump on his back.
“Erob, please warm this water for clean herb infusion.”
“Gladly.” Solemn-eyed, the dragon huffed his breath over the cup.
Ezaara began the painstaking process of cleansing and tending his wounds. She used healing salve, stitched the worst of his slashes shut, and applied piaua juice. This morning, in the infirmary, she’d overheard Ma telling Leah they didn’t have much piaua left. Guilt flashed through her. Zens had smashed Ezaara’s precious vials of the restorative juice when he’d battered her. Maybe she shouldn’t have taken so many with her. She’d thought she could heal some slaves, but she’d barely escaped with her life.
“Ezaara, my son is blocking the archway. How’s Roberto?” Zaarusha asked.
“I’m healing him now, but he’s still unconscious.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you escaped. Tharuks were attacking Monte Vista, so I had to defend our people. It’s been a long flight. I’m going to rest.”
“Thank you for bringing him home. I’m glad you’re back. Sleep well.”
Erob shifted, adjusting his weight. “He’s tough, you know.”
“No one should have to withstand this.” Anger burned through Ezaara. “I have an arrow with Zens’ name on it. One day I’ll fire it.”
“I hate what Zens has done to him, but do you know what’s special about Roberto?” Erob asked.
Everything. “What?”
“Zens taught him how to manipulate human minds—a terrible power to wield. Yet he only uses his talents for good.”
True. Even though Roberto had been through hell, he’d risen above it.
Ezaara looked at her unconscious lover. His face was sunken, making his cheekbones stand out like mountain ridges. Dark shadows lay under his eyes. She’d healed his broken nose, cleansed the blood from his face, yet under the wear and tear of his captivity he was still beautiful.
But what had Zens done to his mind? Had he broken him? Would he rise above this too?
§
Adelina cautiously opened Ezaara’s door. Ezaara, sitting at Roberto’s bedside, glanced up. “Come in,” she said softly.
Adelina approached the bed. Roberto was home. He was here. Breath rushed into her lungs. She hadn’t even realized she’d been holding it. “He’s thin, isn’t he?” And as pale as death.
“He has a lot of new scars, even with piaua.”
And those were only the physical ones. What mental torture had Zens inflicted upon her brother? Would he scream in the deep of the night, the way he had for two years after last escaping Zens? Adelina sat and stroked his hand. It didn’t matter. No matter how badly damaged he was, he was her family.
§
“You’re joking? All the mages are here?” Fenni asked.
Master Giddi’s infamous eyebrows wiggled an affirmative. Fenni had never thought he’d be so happy to see those sharding eyebrows again.
“How are the riders reacting?” Jael asked, getting up off the pallet they’d given him in Tomaaz’s cavern.
Giddi shrugged. “Time will tell.”
Giant John leaned back against the wall. “Fighting tharuks together helped form some bonds between riders and mages. You missed a ferocious battle.”
What exactly had gone down at Mage Gate? “There’s only one thing I want to know,” Fenni said. “Did anyone shoot fireballs from underwater?”
Jael chuckled.
Master Giddi only lifted his eyebrow again. “I told you the main purpose of that exercise was to help your control,” he mind-melded.
“Will you get out of my head?” Fenni thought back. All that training and he’d missed the best fight.
“Sure,” Giddi melded.
What? He’d just mind-melded back. Fenni gaped at Giddi, but his master just laughed.
“Don’t worry, Fenni,” Master Giddi said. “It won’t be the last battle. Spanglewood is teeming with tharuks.”
“Good,” said Fenni. “Kierion, Jael and I have ideas for training mages and riders together. Can we try them?”
“Try whatever you want,” Giddi chuckled. “Just don’t get flamed by an irate dragon.”
Giddi didn't think he was serious. Just wait until he saw what they’d planned.
There was a bang at the door, and Hans entered. “Giddi, there’s been bad news. The Wizard Council have done a head count. Two young mages have been taken by tharuks—Velrama and Sorcha,” Hans said. “Apparently the tharuks boasted Zens is hunting for you, as well.”
Master Giddi was on his feet in a heartbeat, striding to the door.
Jael nudged Fenni. “Those were the two mages who were dueling when Sorcha was disqualified. The girl who made the doorway in the ice wall.”
“Shards, they’re so young. Only our age.” Kierion was suddenly glad he’d missed the battle.
Shadows
Roberto had been cold, cold, cold for so long. Now he was warm. Bleary peace stole through him. He could sleep like this forever. Never wake up. A face flashed to mind. Deep green eyes that he could lose himself in, blonde hair, and a smile to die for. Ezaara. That’s right, he’d been searching for her, but now he was too tired, so he’d just stay asleep, roaming the halls of his lost mind.
Wait—he couldn’t sleep in this snow drift forever. He’d die. But why was he warm? Snow burn? Or numb nerves?
