Roberto dismounted and strode over, sword hilt glinting in the moonlight. He took her by the shoulders, onyx eyes stormy. “Ezaara.” His breath was ragged.
She was about to mumble her apologies when he pulled her against his chest, murmuring into her hair. “Dragon’s bleeding fangs! I thought I’d lost you.” The scent of mint and sandalwood enveloped her.
For once, Ezaara had nothing to say.
Tharuk Attack
Last night he’d failed. He’d slipped up, taken her in his arms out of sheer relief that she was all right. And once she’d been there, it had been hard to let her go. The smell of her hair reminded him of the days before his father had turned. Happy days playing in the sun, fishing and tending the animals. Running through meadows, swimming in lakes and laughing.
His last few years with his family had seldom given him reason to laugh. And many reasons to cry. Until he’d hardened himself, locked away his tears and moved on. Only Adelina remained. His father had destroyed everything else in his life. Roberto kicked at an old shoe lying on his cavern floor.
Ezaara reminded him of everything good in the world. Of innocence. Of loving family bonds. Of fun, dare he think it. Of warmth and friendship. Everything he’d denied himself for years. He sighed and tugged his jerkin shut. And he would deny himself her, for her own sake, and his.
“I’m ready. Will you stop mooching around?”
Roberto snorted. “Mooching?”
“Now you’re snorting almost as well as me.” Erob gave a dragonly snort that echoed off his den walls outside.
Roberto chuckled. Where would his life be without Erob?
A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered his life among tharuks.
§
Whatever Roberto had demonstrated last night was gone. The tenderness she’d felt as he’d held her. The vibration of his deep voice through his chest. The warmth and firmness of his torso. The peace she’d felt, the sense of one-ness at being in his arms—it was gone.
All gone.
He struck her shoulder with the flat of his sword. “Faster.” A tap on the hip. “Block, Ezaara.”
She lunged, sweat trickling into her eye, and missed him. Their swords clashed again.
“A sleeping tharuk could do better. Try.”
Whirling, she advanced, gaining ground. He beat her back.
They’d been training for hours. She was dying of thirst. “Water,” she gasped.
He nodded. “Only a sip. There’s no time to stop in battle.”
No sooner had she taken a swig, he bellowed, “Run. Race you to the knife-throwing range.”
Groaning, she ran after him. So unfair, he had a head start. She couldn’t let him win. Sprinting, she chewed up the ground between them. Where in the Egg’s name did he get his energy from?
Panting, Ezaara reached the range on his heels, spurted past him and threw her knife without stopping.
He whistled. “Good shot, but it may be a fluke. Another.
“And another.
“And another.”
Roberto drew his sword and they were fighting again. His blade smacked her knuckles. This would never end. Dragonback archery was bound to be next. Ezaara’s life was one endless, merciless round of sweat and pain.
§
Roberto woke to a battle horn.
“Wake up,” Erob melded. “River’s Edge is under attack.”
Throwing on his clothes and boots, Roberto grabbed his weapons and jumped on Erob. “To the council chambers,” he melded. “Tell Zaarusha that Ezaara should prepare for battle.”
“Already done.”
Roberto and Erob reached the council chambers at the same time as Shari and Jerrick. Behind them Tonio, Bruno and Fleur were arriving. They dismounted and strode inside. Aidan and Lars were deep in discussion over a weathered map. Within moments, the council was gathered.
“River’s Edge, a village near Montanara, is under attack by tharuks.” Lars announced. “The village only has a small fighting force. Unless we engage, they’ll be slaughtered. We’re sending dragons and fighters. Our battle master will instruct us.”
Aidan pushed the map along the table. He pointed his stubby finger at a village a few river bends south of Montanara. “The villagers are outnumbered. The fighting is so thick, dragons can’t use flame for fear of hurting our people. Jerrick, we need a squad of forty archers on dragonback to circle the area and prevent tharuk reinforcements from reaching the village. Jaevin, ready your sword fighters. Alyssa’s squad will drop them close by, for hand-to-hand combat. Alyssa, only three people per dragon, we don’t want to tire them. The archers will form two squads to pick off beasts from the air—one led by Tonio, one by me. Bruno, any foresight about this fight?”
Roberto repressed a snort. They were asking Bruno’s opinion.
Bruno’s voice was assured. “This is nothing but a minor skirmish. My prophecy tells me you’ll be successful.”
“Tonio, any other intelligence?” Aidan demanded.
“Nothing,” said Tonio. “We don’t have any dragon corps spies near River’s Edge, but blue guards from Montanara are on their way.”
Aidan nodded. “Good. We’ll leave as soon as everyone has formed up. Lars, the time is now yours.”
Lars stood. “Fleur, prepare the infirmary for wounded, and take supplies and healers there.” Lars stabbed the map, indicating the next village over. “We may have to ferry patients to you. Roberto.”
Roberto’s head whipped up.
“I want you to—”
The doors burst open. Ezaara rushed in.
Lars’ surprise was painted across his face. “My Honored Queen’s Rider, you haven’t finished your training. This isn’t a drill. We need capable archers, not novices.”
Ezaara’s chin lifted and her eyes flashed. “Master Roberto.” She turned to face him.
Great, she was going to drag him into this.
“Am I a capable archer?”
A ripple of tension ran around the room. Roberto nodded. “Yes, of course. More than capable.” Apart from Shari, all the masters looked incredulous. “Ezaara is one of the best archers
