She’d known all the boys in Lush Valley since she was small. Here, the men her age seemed older, more confident. More experienced. She had to focus, throw the knife, not think about him. Ezaara flicked her arm forward, and the blade sailed through the air, hitting the bottom of the target.
“You’re improving,” Simeon said over-enthusiastically. “Well done. If you throw with more force, and aim a little higher, we’ll have you hitting the bullseye in no time.” He dashed toward the target to retrieve her knife.
It sounded so easy, but sweat coated her hands whenever she lifted the knife. She’d hurt Sofia. Another tremor ran through her. Remembering her skin bubbling and blistering made her feel like vomiting all over again.
“Have another try.” Simeon was back, urging her on. “You can only get better.” His cinnamon eyes were warm and encouraging. At least she had one true friend here.
She could do this, for him. Ignoring the flash of fire in her head, the twisting of her gut, her damp fingers, she threw the knife.
“That’s better. I’ll retrieve it for you.”
If only she had her cane. Her ankle was aching, but she didn’t want to admit it to Simeon when he was trying so hard to help.
Simeon grinned as he handed her the knife again. “Go on, one more.”
As Ezaara raised her arm, a shadow fell over her.
“Here comes trouble,” Simeon muttered.
He was right. Erob was here—and Roberto’s expression was as dark as a storm cloud.
Ezaara sighed.
“Hard to please, isn’t he?” Simeon murmured, squeezing her hand. He got it. He understood her so well, and he obviously knew Roberto. “Come on, Ezaara,” Simeon urged. “Let’s show him what you’ve learned.”
She raised her arm. Simeon reached around her body, adjusting her grip again. “A little higher,” he whispered. He stepped back as her knife sailed straight into the target.
Erob thudded to the ground, and Roberto swung out of the saddle, face thunderous. Striding toward them, he nodded at the target. “Much better,” he said. His gaze flicked over Simeon. “What are you doing here?”
Simeon’s lip curled. “Training the Queen’s Rider.”
“Training Ezaara is my job,” Roberto snapped. “Not yours.”
“Well, it’s a shame you were too busy, isn’t it? Anyone would think you want her to fail.”
Roberto flinched. “Get back to the infirmary and your assigned duties.”
“Yes, Master Roberto,” Simeon spat. “Farewell, Ezaara. It was a pleasure being with you this morning.” He flashed a sparkling smile and strode off.
“Let’s get back to training,” Roberto said.
“Until you two start treating each other civilly, I have no inclination to train with either of you.” Ezaara stalked toward the target, masking her aching ankle.
Roberto caught up with her. “Ezaara.” His deep voice shimmied through her. “I need to talk to you.”
She was about to ignore him, when Erob mind-melded, “Ezaara, listen to him. He has your best interests at heart.”
“His rudeness is a strange way of showing it,” she melded back.
Erob chuckled as Ezaara pulled her knife out of the target and sheathed it in her belt.
Roberto put his fingers in his mouth and whistled. With a flap of wings, Erob leaped over to them. Roberto reached up and untied her cane from his saddle, holding it out toward her. His expression softened.
His mother’s beautiful cane. “Where did you find it?” Her irritation evaporated.
He waved an arm at the nearby trees. “Hidden near here.” His fingers traced a hairline break in the wood. “It was snapped in two. I used a dowel and some tree sap to fix it. It’s not as good as it was, but it should do the trick.”
“Broken in two?” That was hard to swallow. “That’s pretty low.”
Roberto’s eyes flitted toward Simeon’s departing back.
Of course, he suspected Simeon—her friend. Ridiculous. It was more likely to have been Alban.
“Thank you for mending it.” Ezaara put her weight on the cane. “It’s as good as new.”
Roberto leaned against Erob’s side, crossing his long legs. “Today, Ezaara, you and I are going to get to know each other a little better. And then we’ll start training in earnest. You need to be ready for battle.”
What if she didn’t want to get to know him? And how could she train in earnest when her ankle was throbbing?
“Come on.” He extended his hand and helped her onto Erob. He climbed up in front of her and slid her cane into a saddlebag. “Hold on tight.”
Ezaara put her arms around his waist, inhaling his sandalwood scent. They took off, heading toward a lake that glinted silver among a dark carpet of trees.
“Is this where you go fishing?” Ezaara asked. It was a tranquil refuge from the gossip in the mess hall and tunnels.
Erob settled on the grassy shore.
He smiled. “Yes, and I swim here in summer.”
Erob shot Ezaara an image of Roberto, muscular and sun-bronzed, cutting through the water.
Her cheeks grew warm. “Honestly, Erob!”
“What is it?” asked Roberto, sliding down, then helping her off Erob. “Don’t you like swimming?”
“I love it.” He’d noticed her blush, which made her blush even more—a vicious circle. “Um, what did you want to talk about?”
Roberto sat by the lake and patted the grass. “Please, sit down.” He took a package wrapped in waxed cloth out of his pocket, then took his jerkin off and rolled it up. “Rest your ankle on this, it might help.”
Simeon hadn’t paid any attention to how her ankle was today. Maybe there was more to Roberto than she’d thought. “You seem to have practice in looking after invalids,” she joked.
His face grew grave. “My mother was badly injured. I nursed her for three moons.” He unwrapped the waxed cloth, revealing bread, a jar of relish and a wedge of cheese.
“What happened
