“Nervous?” Roberto waited, gazing up at her.
A soft gasp escaped her. It was there again, that unnerving but thrilling power surging through her. “So many people, just to see me.” Wiping her palms on her jerkin, she accepted the sword. “Thank you, Master Roberto.”
“Relax. If you impressed me, you can impress Jaevin.”
Impressed? From his attitude, she’d never have guessed. “You never let on. I thought I was hopeless.” Her breathing eased. Despite the crowd—despite making a fool of herself so many times since she’d arrived—she could do this. After all, she’d beaten Tomaaz in the market. And she’d scored quite a few hits on Roberto over the last week. She only had to get two strikes. If she got in fast, she might catch Jaevin off guard.
“You’re right. I never let on how good you were … or how beautiful you are …” Roberto’s words shimmied through her mind, lighting every corner within her, taking her breath away. He was still on bended knee before her, in front of the crowd.
“Please stand, Master Roberto,” she said, voice strong enough to carry.
Roberto’s onyx eyes scanned her face as he rose.
“I thank you for training me so well.” Her success would be his.
He bowed his head again. “Good luck, My Honored Queen’s Rider.” Her face was reflected in his midnight eyes—as if her likeness was seared into his soul. Roberto walked back to the crowd.
Master Tonio presented Master Jaevin with the silver-hilted ceremonial sword, then stepped back.
Jaevin towered above her. Broad and well-muscled, he twirled the sword absent-mindedly. He was good. To strike him, she’d have to use every strategy and trick she knew.
Upon the outcrop, a purple dragon flexed its wings—Singlar. Astride him, Lars lifted a horn to his lips and blew it.
The crowd cheered.
Master Jaevin lunged. Ezaara parried a flurry of thrusts. As quick as an asp, he struck her arm. Vino roared. Strike one.
If this were a real fight, she had no doubt Jaevin could kill her in an instant. Thank the Egg, it was only an evaluation. She parried a downward strike, the force reverberating through her arm. Jaevin feinted and she deflected it, blocking his next blow.
“Good,” Jaevin called. “Nice block.”
“Graceful move,” Roberto melded, and an image flashed through her mind—her braid swinging and arm muscles flexing.
She looked like that? “What? Oh, thanks.” Ezaara missed blocking Jaevin’s next blow and had to duck sideways to avoid being hit.
“Timing is everything,” Master Jaevin called.
“Yes sir,” Ezaara replied.
“Your braid looks like spun gold in the sunlight.” Warmth flowed through her at Roberto’s words.
“At a time like this, you’re admiring my hair?” Ezaara sidestepped as Jaevin swung again.
“Everything.”
Her arm shuddered, blocking another strike.
“You’re a powerful melody thrumming through me, setting my bones on fire.”
Bones on fire. She got that. Hers melted every time they melded.
Faster and faster, Jaevin whipped his sword at her, keeping her on the defensive. His style was similar to Tomaaz, driving her backward, giving her no chance to attack.
“Lift your guard a little,” Master Jaevin called.
Ezaara did and their swords clanged.
“Nice move.” This time Roberto sent her legs, bronzed from the sun, thighs flexing to parry Jaevin’s last blow.
Jaevin’s sword shot past her guard, the tip tapping her shoulder. Vino roared.
“Your left side was open,” Jaevin called. Strike two.
“Noted.” She parried his next thrust. “You cost me a strike, Roberto. How can I concentrate when you keep leaking emotions?”
A rush of sweetness engulfed her.
“It’s wonderful, but not now.” Ezaara danced out of Jaevin’s reach.
“Sorry.” Just like that, Roberto was gone and her head was her own again.
§
A dam had broken. For years, Roberto had kept his feelings on a leash. He’d escaped a crucible of pain and never wanted to revisit it, so he’d barricaded his emotions behind a thick wall.
Ezaara had destroyed all that. From the first glimpse of her imprinting, she’d created a chink in his defense. He’d plugged the hole with cold indifference, austere instruction and dogged determination.
But her loyalty to the queen had created another rift in his wall. Her courage, another. By stealth, the chinks had widened. And during the race yesterday, at the river, the fire of dragon power had swept away his last flimsy pretense of indifference.
It had sneaked up on him like a wildcat and sunk its claws deep into him, and no matter how he tried to shake it loose, it clung to him, worming its way deep inside him.
He loved her.
And she knew it.
And if he acted on it, he’d be banished.
§
Jaevin’s sword thudded against Ezaara’s leather breastplate. Vino roared. No! Strike three, and she hadn’t landed a blow yet.
She had to bide her time. She was used to holding out against larger opponents. Tomaaz was a head and shoulders taller than her. Lofty, even bigger. Dragging their bulk around, they often tired before her. But Jaevin wasn’t showing any sign of tiring. It was a joke—she hadn’t come near to landing a blow. At this rate, she’d only be proving her incompetence.
Ezaara dodged another strike and swung around so Jaevin couldn’t back her up against the rock face. Sweat pricked her eyes. She darted back, out of range. Jaevin lunged again, intense thrusts driving her across the arena. Get in fast and attack him? How naive she’d been.
The clash of steel on steel rang among the rock faces as Jaevin launched another flurry of attacks. Her arms were tiring. Her breath rasped in her throat. Everyone’s eyes were on her. She couldn’t back down. She had to prove herself. Had
