One that had even Kinlear balking from the other side of the bars. ‘Perhaps progress hasn’t happened at all,’ he said, and lifted his hand to sweep aside his dark curls. Ezer caught a glimpse of the fat rings shining up on his fingers, made clear by the torchlight.
And an idea sparked in her mind.
‘Stop laughing,’ Ezer growled at him. ‘Neither she nor I were prepared for this today.’
‘It’s clear you’ve never saddled a beast before. You don’t prepare a war mount. You simplydo.You haven’t even tied her down.’
At that, it was Ezer’s turn to gasp. ‘I will do no such thing.’
She looked back at Six, who continued to flick her tail twice in a constant rhythm, pausing enough time in between for Ezer to get the message.
No.
No.
And another no.
Ezer closed a fist over her mother’s ring. ‘What will it take, Six? A gift?’
A pause.
Then a single twitch of Six’s tail.
Yes.
She blew her hair from her face and marched to the bars where Kinlear stood. ‘Your rings,’ she said. ‘May I borrow one, please?’
Kinlear looked like he’d been stabbed. ‘These are precious heirlooms! A true rarity from Lordach’s past.’
‘And your mission is about to be considered an heirloom, too,’ Ezer said, and reached her hand through the bars, ‘if you don’t give me something to use as an offering.’
She looked back over her shoulder, pointedly, at the pile of treasures in Six’s cell.
She could see his eyes narrow, then widen. ‘Are those …’
‘Hers,’ Ezer said, ‘and so is one of your rings. Now choose which one, or we’ll make no progress here today. She requires payment for what she’s to do for you.’
He blinked at her. ‘What in the Ehver happened while I was gone?’
‘A mutual understanding,’ Ezer said. ‘Ring, please.’
His face was pained as he placed a fat emerald with a gold band into her palm.
Even in the torchlight, it shone like a beacon, and Ezer could see at once that Six’s dark eyes slid towards it.
‘All right, Six,’ Ezer said, as she turned to face the pup. ‘A saddling for an emerald, and a royal one at that.’
Kinlear sighed. ‘I hardly think the beast can understand you.’
Ezer ignored him, reaching up to run her hands across theraphon’s feathered neck, until her fingertips touched fur. So soft, so seamless, the transition from raven to panther. Her wings were lovely, the feathers long and perfectly tapered. And so dark, they nearly looked purple in the torchlight.
‘Here we go,’ she breathed.
She could see the space on Six’s back where the saddle was to go. It was smaller, thinner than a horse’s saddle so it could fit between her wings, and was meant to buckle more like a harness, in front and behind, so it wouldn’t slide.
Carefully, so, so carefully, she touched the leather to Six’s back.
‘No chains,’ Ezer whispered. Six’s eyes flared at the touch of the leather on her feathers … but she did not move. ‘Good girl.’
