jhetainflight

None-too-comely in the first place, the recovering Jhetarya was now stick-thin, and there were lines in her angular face that hadn’t been there before. She stared irritably into the mirror, fingers untwisting her dark plait with the ease of long time’s practice. The knee-length black tresses were unmoved by their long confinement, as stubborn—and straight—as ever.
In the reflection, another pair of blue eyes glimmered in a handsomer face. Scowling, Jhetarya turned around, catching a lurking Al’jan’s concerned gaze with a glare of her own. “I’m all /right/,” she said, exasperated. “You needn’t hover like a broody queen, cousin.”
But Al’jan was not to be deterred. She’d been prickly all her life, and the brownrider had been there every step of the way, watching out for her and keeping her company. He’d weathered worse explosions of temper than this one. Al’jan merely cocked his head at her and laid a finger to his lips. “Shh, you’ll wake the babies,” he whispered, eyes sparkling.
She made a face at him, but allowed herself to smile a little. “What do you want now, Al’jan? Is the Weyr tumbling down about our ears?”
He shook his head, solemnly. “Nope, but your peace of mind might. Have you looked at Arosambyth lately?” At her half-sad, half-angry look, the brownrider added hastily, “No, no, she’s looking fantastic now, Jheta. I promise, your care of her is unrivalled by even the most moonstruck of new weyrlings. Just…take a look at her, why don’t you?”
Taking a last, sour look at her reflection, the goldrider made her way out to the wide, sandy wallow in front of the ground weyr she’d been assigned. Arosambyth was not lounging in the sun. Rather, she was skimming lightly over the surface of the lake, wings scattering the water in a rain of rainbowed droplets. Ignoring Aventrineth’s warning hiss, the lightly-built queen circled and darted over the glass-smooth lake, muscles working stealthily beneath her amber hide.
“’Ambyth! What /are/ you doing?” Jhetarya called, mystified and a little startled at her lifemate’s aerial display.
<<I’m exercising. I don’t want my flight to be a short one,>> Arosambyth replied, spinning dizzily in place. <<If I /must/ rise and bear children, I will do it with style.>> Her tone made it clear that she didn’t consider it to be a great goal in life to brood over a clutch on the Sands.
Shivering a little in the brisk fall air, the goldrider wrinkled her nose. “Exercising? I don’t think /any/ female, gold or green or rare, has tried /that/ before.”
<<If they can’t catch me, I don’t have to clutch,>> the gold replied, her warm voice hopeful. <<And if they do catch me, they’d sharding well better /work/ for it.>>
Jhetarya shrugged. “It’s your choice, Arosambyth. But I wouldn’t do it so close to the lake—that’s dangerous.”
Arosambyth stopped, hovering over the water with great snaps of her narrow wings. <<I’m not going anywhere. All the males are at the lake,>> she said peevishly, the first evident break in her perpetual good temper.
The goldrider was too tired to argue. “Fine. You can try to attract some male whose rider has a liking for ugly women. And then you can look for another one who’ll put up with my temper. I hope you have fun.”
<<Oh, I’m /having/ fun,>> Arosambyth murmured, tilting toward the clear blue of the autumn sky. <<You just wouldn’t believe how much fun I’m having.>>

Al’jan scowled at the oblivious Arosambyth, who was shining like a torch. <<Your sister,>> he told Fivrith with asperity, <<has a very bad sense of timing.>>
<<Timing?>> Fivrith snorted. <<She just doesn’t /care/. Why’d she have to choose a time when I was already chasing? It’ll be much harder to screen the applicants before they get to her.>>
<<But they’ll have to get through both of us before they break Jhetarya’s heart,>> Al’jan said darkly, and the brown growled agreement.

Her lap full of soapy leather, Jhetarya blinked as an…odd noise sounded outside her weyr, a high-pitched sound too mellow to have come from any firelizard’s throat. Curious, she began to stand.
“Ah, hello?”
The goldrider froze, sighed, and sat back down, laying her riding straps over the long rack she’d begged from the Headwoman. Harsh yellow lather was smeared nearly up to her elbows, and she scowled at her red hands. Businesslike, she wiped them on her breeches, blowing on her chapped fingers as she made her way toward the door.
“Hello?” The voice was closer now, echoing off the stark stone walls.
“I’m here,” she said brusquely. “Who is it?”
Jhetarya’s eyes widened as she rounded the corner, faced with another pair of startlingly blue eyes in a dark-skinned face. No…not entirely dark, because golden rosette-shaped markings stood out like brands several feet above her, on his forehead.
The man was tall and strong-jawed, angular of face and body. Others could have called him sinister—to Jhetarya, he looked half-familiar, a handsomer echo of the face she saw in the mirror. The hair about his face was gold, like the pale streaks that ran in some people’s families. The rest of his neat ‘tail was black.
He also carried himself with an assurance that the goldrider automatically classified as arrogance. Lips thinned, she stared up at him impatiently, shoulders askew and one hand on her hip.
The big cat at his side fascinated her, but Jhetarya wasn’t about to give up her façade of irritated boredom for mere curiosity....