“It burns a little. It’s nothing.” She bit her lip, and her brow furrowed as she worked the oil into her skin.
The swelling was receding before his eyes. The blotchy purple bruise was fading, growing lighter. Within moments, her ankle was normal. Incredible.
“This stuff’s amazing.” She had pretty ankles and feet, not that he’d ever noticed a woman’s ankles before. Roberto coughed, glancing away.
Ezaara flexed her ankle and leaped up, dancing across the grass. She snatched up his sword and tossed it to him.
Dragon’s eggs! She was beautiful, full of life.
There was no way he could ever act on how he felt—as if he’d be that stupid. Masters weren’t allowed relationships with trainees. He’d never risk banishment after all he’d done to earn his position as master at Dragons’ Hold.
“Now we can duel,” she called.
“You’d better get your boots on,” Roberto growled. “I’m going to put you through your paces.”
Trickery and Stunts
Erob flapped his wings. Exhausted, Ezaara clung tighter to Roberto. Except for that first time, no matter how hard she’d tried, Roberto had beaten her every time they’d dueled today. He’d been remorseless, goading her with jibes as they’d clashed swords. Her beating him earlier had been a fluke, like when she’d beaten Tomaaz in the marketplace.
Erob descended to the edge of the forest and Roberto jumped off, making no move to help her. He strode toward a strongwood tree and hung a leaf on the rough bark of its trunk.
Ezaara slid off Erob. Although she was tired from dueling, it was great to walk and run properly again. She shrugged off her guilt about using piaua. It was too late now.
“Let’s test your archery skills,” called Roberto. “The leaf is your target.”
Stifling a smile, Ezaara called, “It looks awfully small.” This would be a cinch. She and Tomaaz had grown up shooting as soon as they were old enough to fetch arrows.
Roberto took two bows out of Erob’s saddlebag. “Which one do you want to use?” He held a longbow in one hand, and a recurve in the other.
The elegant longbow needed more strength, but was taller and more cumbersome. The recurve was her favorite, the type her family used. The ends of the bow curved forward, creating more tension on the string so arrows could travel faster and further.
“This one, thanks.” She took the recurve. It was similar in feel and size to her one in Lush Valley. Ezaara rubbed her fingers along the string, then sniffed them. Good, it had recently been treated with beeswax.
Roberto observed her, narrowing his eyes. “Do you need any tips?”
He was assuming she couldn’t do anything—why not humor him? Ezaara sighed dramatically. “I’m fine, really.” This could get interesting.
He passed her a quiver of arrows and she slung them across her back. Ezaara wiped her palms on her breeches, nocked her arrow, and raised it to sight the center of the leaf. It took a seasoned archer to evaluate a new bow with only one test shot. As she loosed the arrow, she twitched her bow to the side. The arrow whistled through the air and went wide, hitting a bush.
“Hmm,” Roberto pursed his lips. “Although you sighted well, the bow jerked as you fired. Try again.” He crossed an arm and rested his elbow on it, rubbing his chin.
This time, she let the bow jump to the opposite side.
“Same problem. Let me show you.” He strode toward her.
“No, thanks, I’m fine. I’m just warming up.” Ezaara bit her cheeks to stop herself from grinning. Her next shot was wide, and the one after, too high. All of her arrows had missed the trunk.
“Ezaara, allow me to help you.” Roberto’s jaw was tense.
She’d probably pushed him far enough. “One more shot, please?”
A terse nod.
She loosed an arrow, hitting the center of the leaf. Bullseye. Then she loosed another and another, until the leaf was shredded, prickling with arrows.
If Roberto’s eyebrows rose any higher, they’d meet his hairline.
“What did you think of that?” She ran to the trunk and pulled out the arrows, tucking them back into her quiver.
“We have two weeks to train you, and you think we have time to play games?” He shook his head, then snapped, “Double your distance.”
So, he’d lost his sense of humor? Fine. Two could play that game. Ezaara paced back from the tree to where she’d been standing, then paced that far again. Roberto replaced the leaf with a fresh one. Raising her bow, she loosed an arrow. Another bullseye.
“That far again,” he called.
Pacing off, she turned and fired another shot. Her arrow hit the edge of the leaf.
“Center, this time,” he barked.
“I’d like to see you try,” Ezaara muttered under her breath as she nocked an arrow and let it fly. The arrow hit the leaf, knocking her earlier arrow off the bullseye.
Roberto gave a short nod. “A spinning shot, this time.”
Ezaara faced away from the trunk, nocked her arrow and spun, slamming her front foot down, aiming and loosing the arrow in one fluid motion. It hit the leaf.
Roberto nodded and called her over.
He should be pleased, but no, he was frowning again.
He took her bow and quiver. “Since you’re so proficient at archery, draw your sword.”
Groaning, Ezaara obliged, and they clashed blades again.
§
At the crack of dawn, Ezaara and Zaarusha flew down to the archery range.
“I could’ve easily slept longer.” Ezaara yawned, muscles aching from yesterday’s sword bouts with Roberto. She had bruises too.
“He’s a good trainer,” Zaarusha melded. “And not bad company, once you get to know him.”
“I’d rather befriend a wolf.”
Zaarusha just chuckled.
Roberto was already there, oiling a dry patch on Erob’s neck. He swung back into the saddle as Zaarusha landed. “Good morning, Ezaara. Don’t get down.
