A wince shot across Roberto’s face, so fast she almost missed it. “It’s a beautiful place, but no, I don’t miss it.” His face shuttered. “What strategies could you use to find your lost arrows? They’re a valuable resource. You won’t find them, unless you’re smart about it. Think, Ezaara. Think.”
She’d hunted around the ground underneath the targets and searched the foliage to see if they were hidden there. She chewed her breakfast in silence.
“A Queen’s Rider has to use strategy,” Roberto said.
“Well, you’re master of mental faculties. You should be an expert at that.”
His face darkened. “This is an essential part of your training.”
“I could ask the littlings from Dragons’ Hold to find them.”
“Now you’re thinking. Delegation. What else could you do?”
“Get Zaarusha to shake the trees, and see if any of them fall out.”
“How would you know which trees to shake?”
“All the ones with the ropes hanging from them.”
“All of them? But you only lost four arrows.”
Ezaara sighed. “I guess I should’ve marked the trees where we lost the arrows.”
“Yes,” Roberto answered, “you should have. But don’t worry, today I did.”
Biting into her apple, Ezaara said, “So now I have to search around four trees. Those arrows could be anywhere.”
“Strategy, Ezaara, strategy.”
The best strategy would be to walk away from his insufferable questions, but he was her master, so she didn’t dare. “All right, I give in. What’s your brilliant idea?”
Roberto gestured at the vast forest around them. “There was no way I could explain to you the effects of wingbeats on arrow flight, before you’d tried. Just as there’s no way I can explain to you how to develop good strategies that will save you time in battle. Some things have to be done through trial and error. Sometimes experience—”
“—is the best teacher. I know. Long ago, someone wise once told me that.”
“Not that long ago.” Zaarusha chortled. “And very wise.”
“I know, perhaps Zaarusha could help.”
His eyebrows shot up. “How?”
“Maybe she saw where the arrows went.”
“Of course I did. I always look.” Zaarusha gave a small triumphant roar. “I told him you were good, and now you’ve proven it.”
He just raised another stupid eyebrow. “Did you cheat and ask our Honored Queen?”
Ezaara threw her apple core at a tree trunk with more force than necessary. It splattered against the rough bark. “No. I. Did. Not.” She got up and climbed on Zaarusha. “Now, let’s find those arrows.”
§
Ezaara was a fast learner, he’d give her that. And resourceful. No one else he’d trained had ever thought of using the dragons to shake trees, let alone asking them to mark where their arrows had fallen. Although dragons, with their superior intellect and excellent sight, often noticed details that riders missed, most novices were unaware of it. Formidable in battle, dragons were deadly enemies. Roberto was glad he wasn’t fighting against them.
Within a short while, they’d found three arrows and were thrashing around in the bush, searching for the fourth. “Come on,” Roberto said. “It’s not worth spending any longer on this.”
“I thought they were precious?” Ezaara snapped, her face streaked with dirt, and her hair fraying from her braid.
“When you’re done questioning your master’s ability to teach you,” he said, “we’ll do more shooting from dragonback.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled, her eyes the same shade as the foliage.
He grunted. “When you’re back in the saddle, focus on Zaarusha’s every movement: the flip of each wing and how she rises and falls on the breeze. Rising in the stirrups to make your shots was a good technique, but you have to perfect it. In battle, your targets won’t be static. So far today, you’ve been shooting within close range, alongside a target. I’ll know you’re truly proficient when you can shoot at targets ahead, alongside, and behind you. Are you ready?”
She raised her chin, determination flashing in her eyes.
§
Ezaara ached all over. The last few days’ training from dawn until dusk had been grueling, but at least she could now hit most targets from her saddle. Sitting on the edge of her bed, her stomach muscles groaned in protest as she bent to unlace her boots. Dragon’s sit-ups, Roberto called them, but they were more like torture. He’d made Zaarusha run along the edge of the orchard, and every time a low branch hurtled toward Ezaara, she’d had to lie back to avoid being hit, then pull herself up using her core muscles. She snorted. And that was the least of it. Her days had been filled with sword fighting, tree climbing, running, balancing on ropes above a churning river, scaling rock faces, and eternal target practice. He’d even had her kneeling on the saddle to shoot. Of course she’d missed, how could she not miss when she wasn’t balanced properly?
And through it all, he’d goaded her to be better, try harder, think more like a Queen’s Rider and less like a girl from Lush Valley. She missed her family. Where were they? What was happening to them? Did Tomaaz miss her too?
Sometimes, she glimpsed another side of Roberto, the gentle side that gave her watermelon juice, or a special green apple from the tree his parents had planted. He never talked about them, nor his littling days. No matter how often she asked, he’d always change the subject.
Ezaara threw her boots near the bed so she could easily find them when Roberto came back for her tonight. So tired—and now he wanted her to do flight training. Why in the night, when she was exhausted? Ezaara collapsed on her bed, in her riders’ garb, and drifted to sleep.
She awoke to a thud in Zaarusha’s den.
“Erob’s here,” Zaarusha warned.
Moments later, Roberto appeared. “You skipped dinner.”
“I was
