“I didn’t realize you could mind-meld with everyone.”
“I can only meld with other riders when they touch me, but I can meld with their dragons if they’re not too far away. They’re keen to meet the new Queen’s Rider.”
Whoever ‘they’ were. “In the middle of the night?” Ezaara yawned. “If they’ve waited eighteen years, surely they can wait a few more hours.”
Zaarusha snorted. “Your imprinting bond and loyalty must be tested.”
“How?”
“You’ll be fine. Just be yourself.”
Fine? That was all right for Zaarusha to say—she wasn’t about to face a horde of blue dragons for the first time.
They ascended a snowy mountainside, gliding above a summit. Moonlight caught on jagged peaks that formed a gaping maw around a dark basin.
“These mountains are Dragon’s Teeth, the guardians of Dragons’ Hold,” Zaarusha said. “Flying is the only way in.”
They swooped down, the basin swallowing them, and flew toward a mountain face, shooting through a tunnel into an enormous cavern.
Inside, the air was filled with dragons, their sinuous necks weaving to stare at her with wild eyes. They swooped and dived past Zaarusha, grim-faced riders upon their backs. Bill’s scrap of cloth had been right—they were every color from emerald to blood red. Dragons snarled, flashing fangs. Their wings made torches sputter in their sconces, sending a chill down her spine.
Zaarusha roared, the air reverberating, setting Ezaara’s teeth on edge. Her talons clattered on the granite floor. Twelve dragons landed, splayed in an arc on a rock platform that towered above Ezaara and the queen.
Ezaara gripped the saddle tighter. The whole of their farm would fit in this cavern, several times over.
The riders, women and men, dismounted, swords at their sides and dagger hilts peeking from their boots. They looked fierce. Intimidating. Wait, there were thirteen dragons. A bronze rider-less dragon was skulking in the shadows.
A man stalked down from the platform, boots striking the stone steps, moving like a lethal predator. Unlike the men in Lush Valley. Confident. Dangerous. He bowed to Zaarusha, dark hair brushing his shoulders. “Welcome home, Honored Queen.” His hard, black eyes flicked over Ezaara. “I see you’ve brought your new rider for testing.”
What a welcome. “What happens if I fail this test?” she fired at Zaarusha.
“You’ll be banished to the Wastelands.”
The Wastelands! “Banished? But I’m—”
“I told you, you’ll be fine. Climb down, he’s waiting.”
Ezaara slid out of the saddle, stumbling as her feet hit the ground.
The man’s lips twitched into a sneer.
She shrunk back, closer to Zaarusha, as all the stories she’d heard about killer dragons came flooding back to her. “Zaarusha—”
Zaarusha snorted. “Ezaara, you have to do this on your own.” She broke mind-meld and flew to a high outcrop.
“Welcome to Dragons’ Hold.” His tone was cool, disinterested. Anything but welcoming. “I’m Roberto, Master of Mental Faculties.” He was only a couple of years older than her, but his poise and arrogance made him so much older. Intimidating. “It’s my responsibility to test you.” He waved a hand at the dragons on the stage above them. “I present the Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters. Do you consent to be tested? If not, you’ll forfeit your right to ride Zaarusha and be removed from Dragons’ Hold immediately.”
“Y-yes.”
On the platform, the dragon masters bowed. Their dragons towered above her. Ferocious eyes fixed on her. A huge purple dragon roared, its wicked fangs glinting. They all joined in, rearing, clawing the air and shaking the ground.
Her stomach coiled. What had she done to deserve this? “Zaarusha.” No answer.
Were they going to attack? Better to be impaled on the peaks of Dragon’s Teeth than face these beasts. There was no way she’d pass their test. She’d be banished and die in the barren Wastelands across the Naobian Sea. Ezaara froze, rooted to the ground in terror.
Roberto raised his palm. The dragons quieted.
“Good evening, respected dragons and Council of the Twelve Dragon Masters,” he said. “In keeping with tradition, Queen Zaarusha has brought her new rider to be tested. She has stood fast in the face of your wrath, passing the first phase of testing.”
What? Being too scared to move had saved her from failure? If only her heart would stop bashing against her chest.
“She may have imprinted, with our queen, but how well?” Again, Master Roberto’s eyes flicked over her. “We must determine whether she is fit to be trained as the true Queen’s Rider.”
He looked as if he was battling not to spit on her. Ezaara cringed.
The dragons bared their teeth, nostrils flaring. They roared, a low rumble building until the air vibrated and the stone floor pulsed beneath her.
Roberto flashed a cool smile and gestured at narrow stairs cut into the rock. “Masters, introduce her to your dragons.” His voice echoed around the large cavern. “And dragons, be thorough.”
Be thorough doing what? Her hands shook. Lofty and Tomaaz would hoot at her fear, call her ridiculous. Ezaara reached out for Zaarusha again. Still nothing.
“Ezaara, proceed to the stage. As you are tested, please remember the moment you imprinted with Queen Zaarusha.”
Zaarusha had taken a gamble on her, and here she was, as scared as a littling hearing ghost stories. She couldn’t let Zaarusha down. Despite the fear zinging along her veins, Ezaara forced herself to race up the steps toward a formidable purple beast with blue eyes.
The beast lowered its head. A master with a fair beard—and eyes the same shade as the purple dragon’s—stepped forward and picked up Ezaara’s hand, placing it on the dragon’s brow, covering it with his own.
A jolt of energy flew along Ezaara’s arm. Her memory exploded in her mind. She was in Lush Valley’s sacred clearing, watching Zaarusha approach, her heart on fire as she mind-melded with the Queen of the
