So much had changed. And now, with the possibility of Zens bringing war to the skies, even more would change. Life would be uncertain. She’d nearly lost Roberto already—several times—but they’d been lucky enough to have another chance. Today they’d be joined, but she’d live every day not knowing if the next battle could steal him from her. So, she’d make sure they lived. Loved. And laughed, so when he was gone, she’d have a treasure trove of precious memories.
“Rather morbid thoughts for one about to be hand-fasted.” The glowing colors of Zaarusha’s sathir swirled in the torchlight. “Time for a happier tune, perhaps?”
“You’re right. Let’s go.”
Zaarusha whipped through the chill air, entering a passage high in the main cavern. They perched inside the tunnel mouth to wait until they were summoned. Hundreds of glowing wizard lights hung below the ceiling. Torches burned brightly in sconces. The cavern was packed with mages and riders, folk young and old, their hubbub rising up the passage.
“Ready?” Zaarusha asked.
“Yes, I’m ready.” Ezaara’s heart thrummed. Roberto was waiting for her.
A haunting note pealed from a horn, echoing off the cavern walls and reverberating through the tunnel.
Zaarusha melded, “Hold on.”
Ezaara tensed, ready for action. The dragon queen bunched her legs, flapped her wings and sailed into the main cavern, circling high above the folk. Ezaara’s ribbons fluttered, her dress shimmering in the light from green mage flame.
Standing on the stage with the horn in his hand and Erob behind him, was Roberto, dressed from tip to toe in black. At his waist was a sash from the same fabric as her dress—Adelina’s doing, no doubt. He glanced up, smiling. “You look radiant.”
Ezaara’s breath caught in her throat—with his broad shoulders, lean muscular frame and love painted across his face, he was stunning. “Thank you. You look rather fine, too.” She could hardly believe he was hers. “Better than fine. Kissable.”
“Trust him to see you before anyone else did,” Erob quipped.
Roberto gave a mental chuckle.
“There she is,” a boy cried, pointing. “It’s Ezaara.” Everyone gazed up.
“Now.” Zaarusha swooped toward the crowd, wings gusting their hair, then shot up to the mage lights, flipping upside down. Exhilaration rushed through Ezaara, fire burning through her veins as she melded with her lover and both of their dragons. The sathir of hundreds of people eddied through the air, but none was as strong as Roberto’s flowing river of blue and silver that danced with her own multicolored light. Zaarusha righted again and corkscrewed toward Roberto on the stage.
The crowd cheered and applause broke out. Sparks flitted from mages’ fingers, and dragons roared. Within two tail-lengths of Roberto, Zaarusha swerved and ascended, beating her wings.
Roberto tucked the horn in his belt, leaping upon Erob. “Let’s show them what we can do, Ezaara. Let’s show them we belong together.”
Erob and Roberto flew alongside Zaarusha and Ezaara, mirroring every move. People ducked as they swooped over their heads and oo-ed and ah-ed as they whirled through the cavern.
Something loosened in Ezaara’s chest. “Finally, I can love you without hiding.”
“Nothing can stop us now.” Roberto’s smile flashed as Erob zipped past them to land on one end of the stage.
Zaarusha landed at the other end. Lars strummed his harp, and a soaring melody filled the cavern.
Roberto dismounted and walked toward Ezaara, still pale from his time in Death Valley, but just as attractive as he’d always been. Better.
“Stay in the saddle,” Zaarusha warned.
She took him in, in dark garb, from his boots to his shoulders. “Adelina’s done a fine job kitting you out.”
He moved toward her with the grace and strength of a mountain cat, and smiled, his dark eyes sparkling with warmth, his love flowing through her. “Gods, your love is glorious,” he melded. “It fills me, makes me want to soar.”
Her whole being sang. Was he really all hers?
“I sure am.” His joy washed over her, making her heart swell with sweetness. If she felt any better, she’d burst.
Roberto scratched Zaarusha’s snout, then reached up to take Ezaara’s hand, his warm fingers enclosing hers.
Her heart raced. “Remember that moment when I first really saw you, at the river?”
“During the race? How could I forget? At night in Death Valley, when Zens was asleep, I took that memory out, turning it over and over in my mind. It kept me strong. You make me stronger, a better man.” He kissed her fingertips, sending a jolt of fire spiraling to her core. Then he reached up and placed his hands at her waist, lifting her down from Zaarusha.
Sandalwood and mint wafted from him. They were so close, his body warmth radiated through her thin garments. He inhaled deeply, his dark eyes reflecting mage light, and his blue sathir swirling around her, wrapping her in its soft embrace. It felt like coming home.
§
Gods, she was gorgeous. It blew his mind. How did he—the useless, abused son of a traitor— deserve someone this loving and beautiful?
“With good taste in dragons,” said Erob.
“The best,” Roberto agreed.
Ezaara shimmered with colors. The threads and braids in her hair reminded him of her first flight, when he’d already suspected she was someone special. A riot of color flitted through his mind. Her sathir was like a vibrant multifaceted jewel. Her emerald eyes were bright with excitement and her cheeks flushed. His fingers itched to trace her skin. Dragon’s claws, her smile was so sharding alluring.
§
Amid applause and cheering, Roberto took Ezaara’s hand and led her to the center of the stage to stand before Lars. Dragons
