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D awn cast Kel’s six paddocks in a golden haze. Crickets whistled against the early quiet and sparrows swooped below the pink horizon, scavenging all but one paddock, bordered by honey-hued trees, where smoke rose in tendrils.

From the back steps of her cottage, Kel lifted a bandaged hand to point. Even with the medicine she’d taken, the movement made her grimace. “I moved Sav out to our training grounds about an hour ago. She should be settled enough by now that she won’t bite any newcomers’ heads off.”

“She warmed up by terrorizing a burrow of bunnies under the paddock,” Dira added, arms crossed over her wine-red jacket. “As long as she doesn’t mistake you for an overgrown cottontail, your survival odds are about fifty percent.”

Bekn fiddled with the collar of his button-up. Coup’s dimples merely deepened.

His eyes glimmered, metallic in the morning light. “Let’s not keep her waiting, then.”

Coup rubbed his hands together and skipped toward Savita’s distant silhouette, as if eager to reunite with an old friend. Savita had her head well-buried in the dirt, searching for burrows, indifferent to Coup’s excitement.

Already garbed in riding leathers, Bekn had driven his brother onto Kel’s lawn inside a four-wheeled auto-engine.

It was an oddly heavy, protective vehicle on an island that typically preferred the smaller, more adaptable track-bikes.

Engines were usually saved for Saltans who needed protection from the elements, like Ascirans or Dresvans.

It made Kel wonder how comfortable Bekn truly was on Cendor.

The brothers had pulled up before the sun had risen above the farm’s tree line.

Kel had opened the door to Coup’s incessant knocking, the sight of him shocking her awake.

Apparently, last night, Dira and Bekn had organized a morning training session, while a council medic had tended to Kel and Coup.

Kel had glared at her best friend, though it had helped to see Coup clearly as annoyed by their agreement as she felt.

Unfortunately, his annoyance had quickly shifted to something antagonistically cheery.

Kel rubbed a bandaged palm over her face and hurried to outpace Coup.

He might have escaped yesterday’s encounter with a phoenix uninjured—but he didn’t know Savita .

He didn’t know the phoenix whose pupils dilated whenever fights broke out mid-race, whose beak clamped together, as if licking her lips, when blood was spilled.

She summoned a deep breath and forced herself to remember why she’d let Coup and Bekn past her doorstep: if she wanted to keep the farm—to keep Savita —she’d have to suffer through Coup’s condescending smirks for at least a few CAPR races.

“Don’t look so worried, Kel. I’m sure you two will find it so easy to work together after yesterday’s bonding,” Dira called. “A true match made by the Alchemists!”

Kel threw a vulgar gesture over her shoulder, and Dira laughed. Heat built in Kel’s cheeks. Coup seemed unbothered by the taunt, which only made Kel’s face heat even more.

It was tradition for Dira to crash at Kel’s after a race.

They’d raid Kel’s kitchen and eyeball whatever late-night reruns the media screen offered.

But last night, instead of the usual cheesy shows, every channel had blasted footage of yesterday’s Fume attack.

Kel and Coup recollaring the phoenix and tumbling together, blood leaking from Kel’s arm, in what every channel had decided was a lover’s embrace.

After she’d sweated through the infections trying to claim her wounded arm, she’d finally found sleep, but even her dreams had refused her respite.

Oska’s fatal screams had threaded through memories of the uncollared phoenix’s attack; black ash coating the ground, a beak too close to her chest, Coup clutching her as they tumbled to the ground.

At least in her dreams, she could rage at him the way she wanted to.

“Dira’s right,” Bekn chirped, trailing behind their group, voice giddy. “Footage of the attack was replaying all night. Especially the pair of you two—er, working together.”

Kel’s cheeks boiled as Coup threw his head back and laughed. The sound grated at her nerves. Savita, just a few hundred meters away, jerked her head up from a burrow in the dirt. Her beak parted, thin ribbons of smoke trailing high. A low warning rumbled through her.

Though Coup slowed, he didn’t stop. Kel smirked as Savita released darker smoke into the air. If he continued at his current pace, Coup would end up trapped beneath Sav’s talons as easily as a bunny.

“You don’t think it’s weird that they’re focusing on us instead of the uncollared phoenix?” Kel asked Bekn, not taking her eyes off Savita.

“Of course it is,” Bekn replied. “But what’s done is done, and we might as well take advantage of the media attention.”

There was a surprising tenderness in Bekn’s voice.

Kel turned to the mitigator, taking in his carefully swept hair and ever-creased forehead.

From CAPR gossip, she knew that Coup and Bekn’s mother had passed away three years ago from AB.

Bekn had quickly stepped in as Coup’s legal guardian.

Perhaps his lined brow shouldn’t have surprised her.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet, Bekn mused about the potential sponsors who would have seen the footage. All the different ways to use yesterday’s publicity for the team. His team.

It was an unexpected relief to have someone else fretting over their public image, to constantly be searching for ways to earn money.

Dira and Kel had always maintained control of the Howlers’ image and prospects.

Giving that up—even to Warren Coupers’s brother—made her feel lighter, as if the ground was loosening its hold on her. It was exciting—and terrifying.

Coup halted, and Kel skidded into his back, wincing as she thumped her right bicep. She lifted a bandaged hand to his arm to steady herself, then dropped it just as quickly. The rider’s lips quirked.

“She’s a carnel phoenix, right?” Coup murmured. “Short fuse, aggressive, splattered coloring. High temp.”

Coup tilted his head. The movement was slow, calculated. Sav responded with her own head tilt. She stood rigid, though her neck wasn’t craned to its full height. They stared evenly at each other. Both gauging a new threat.

“Yeah,” Kel grunted, “she is.”

Though carnel phoenixes were one of the four subspecies legally allowed to enter CAPR races—along with cinder, spinel and blood phoenixes—they were easily the rarest on any track. Kel supposed his knowledge came from his fickleness, hopping teams over the past years.

“How’d your dad find her? Carnels are rare.”

“He didn’t. My grandfather bought her from those poachers who sneak into the forest to find CAPR fodder. He wanted to study her.”

The colorful monarchs, considered direct descendants of the first phoenix, were too dangerous to even attempt to capture.

Yellow harrow phoenixes, with their oversized abdomens and gentle natures, weren’t smart enough to train, for racing or research.

Cape phoenixes, with their dark coloring and camouflaging abilities, could have been incredible racers—if they weren’t too small to ride.

Cinder phoenixes, blood phoenixes and spinel phoenixes were most commonly used and trained for CAPR—but of course Kel’s grandfather hadn’t wanted the most common. He’d wanted the most cunning .

Savita hadn’t been purchased for racing, but for conservation.

To study and monitor, so Kel’s grandfather might learn—as so many tried—how to encourage phoenixes to breed outside of the forest. With phoenixes continuously captured for CAPR and killed on tracks, their population was dwindling.

Restoring his research was a legacy Kel used to dream of resurrecting.

“She’s incredible,” Coup whispered, before throwing a pointed look at Kel. “All your scowling, I’m surprised you haven’t turned her feathers gray.”

“Do you know you’re a dick?” Kel spat.

“Do you know you have the personality of sandpaper?”

Anger surged through Kel, and Sav swiveled toward her. The sparks along Savita’s back turned to flames, curling overhead, as if reaching for Coup. Kel’s muscles tensed.

“Stay at the paddock’s edge or head back to the cottage,” Kel called to Dira and Bekn. “We don’t want her overwhelmed.”

Bekn grumbled. Coup interrupted the wordless protest with a slow, raised hand. “I’ll be fine, Bek. My new best friend isn’t going to let anything happen to me.”

“Just don’t trip on your own ego,” Kel muttered, keeping her face blank. She didn’t want Sav to see how easily he rattled her. “This is already dangerous enough without you falling over.”

Behind her, she heard Bekn and Dira traipsing back, toward Kel’s cottage. Though Dira left without complaint, Kel knew she’d be watching from the windows.

“It’ll be hard not to trip with you breathing down my neck,” Coup said.

Kel sucked in a long, deep breath and tugged on leather gloves over her bandages.

She tried to breathe out the frustration tensing her muscles.

If Savita sensed any reservations in her tamer, she’d grow even more anxious around Coup.

And despite a near-overwhelming urge to shove Coup into Sav’s fiery maw, Kel knew they both needed this to work.

Slowly, Kel shuffled toward Sav with a hand outstretched.

“Hey, Sav,” she crooned, “try not to break every bone he has, okay?”

Sav leaned into Kel’s hand, eyes still trained on Coup.

She tilted her head and nuzzled at Kel with enough pressure to force Kel back a step.

The phoenix inched forward, stepping between Kel and Coup.

Her wings ruffled, stretching slightly, as if to shield Kel from the rider.

A thunderous rumble echoed through Sav. Though her heart pounded, Kel fought back a laugh.

“She doesn’t seem to believe we’re friends.” Kel tapped a finger against her chin. “I wonder why?”