Page 3

TWO

H ot sweat blurred Kel’s vision as she bolted from the Howlers’ booth into the crowded stands and down a creaking staircase.

She shoved past the spectators rising from their seats.

Dira and Rube were close behind her, the three of them stumbling through a metal gate.

By the time they reached the track, the race had already ended.

They flashed their CAPR passes at a blank-faced security guard and paused. Oska had fallen two hundred meters from the finish line. A team of medics were rushing across the dirt track, toward Oska’s distant, still figure.

Heart beating wildly, Kel turned to Dira and Rube. “Check on Oska and—”

And what? Check if their rider still had a pulse?

Dira coughed. “Don’t worry, Kel. We’ll stay with her. Go get Sav.”

Kel gave a terse nod and sprinted past the finish line. After Oska fell, Savita had continued on, paying Oska no more mind than a gnat on a rider’s goggles.

The air rippled around the painted finish line where the surviving phoenixes had landed, slowly regaining their shapes.

All at least twice as tall as Kel, over half of the creatures had blood smearing their burnished feathers.

She blinked through thick clouds of dust and zipped up her leather jacket as protection against the heat.

Three phoenixes to her right snapped at each other, jostling their riders and refusing to calm.

Still coursing with the race’s excitement, it would be all too easy for the creatures to end the event with a massacre.

Kel wove swiftly between them, giving each a wide berth until she spotted Savita, freckled with red, orange and yellow sparks.

Sav grumbled at a nearby phoenix, free to cause as much damage as she liked without a rider to guide her.

Sav quickly spotted Kel and ducked her head, shifting away from the other phoenix like a cat caught toying with a mouse.

Kel’s shoulders slumped as she approached.

Sav’s adrenaline-fueled, raging flames had already settled, returning to their usual soft, lighter flickers.

She twisted her long neck to preen and pick at the empty saddle on her back.

“You scared me to death,” Kel mumbled, running her gloved hands across a row of burgundy feathers at Savita’s side.

She winced at her own words as Oska’s screams echoed through her ears. Though she’d witnessed Oska’s bone-shattering fall, Kel couldn’t stop the mantra rattling in the back of her skull:

She’s fine. Oska’s fine. She’s fine. She’s—

Oska was brash and entitled, but she was one of them. A Crimson Howler. She couldn’t be…

Kel refused to even finish the thought.

Savita’s black beak closed impatiently. Small sparks still ran across her feathers.

One spark shot out at Kel’s arm, catching her jacket.

It burned a glowing hole through her sleeve before Kel could pat it out.

She bit down on the pain. Sav seemed too distracted to notice, the phoenix’s dark gaze tracking the movement of a nearby crew.

Kel waited until Sav’s eyes fixed on her again before moving her hands higher up the phoenix’s side, toward the saddle.

Phoenixes weren’t pets to be coddled. They were just as brutal as the Saltan island they called home, unlike the harmless sprites on Ascira, or the serpentine companions on Dresva. If anyone tried to touch Savita without permission, they’d lose their hand before they could blink.

“You couldn’t have stopped and stayed with Oska?” Kel sighed. “You just had to finish the race?”

Sav lowered her head and nuzzled Kel’s palm.

Seeing Sav safe eased some of the tightness in her chest. The bird’s feathers, rippling layers of yellow, orange and red, were mostly unruffled, free of injury.

Her plumage darkened to burgundy along the tips of her wings, like sharp, blood-dipped knives, and her copper talons glistened despite the rising dust. The saddle sat just a little taller than Kel’s head, covering the paler feathers along Savita’s spine.

Kel glanced up at the surrounding phoenixes, squirming and clucking as their teams closed in. Though Sav had technically crossed the finish line fourth, without a rider, she was disqualified. Kel’s eyes stung.

Oska’s fall would leave her injured, perhaps permanently.

Either way, the Howlers wouldn’t have a rider to compete with anytime soon.

Not unless Kel stepped up to replace Oska, and though she’d raced occasionally, she didn’t have the natural core strength and agility needed to stand a chance in CAPR.

We should have done better.

The thought made Kel grimace. Though her father hadn’t endorsed CAPR racing, he would have scolded her for feeling anything but thrilled at placing fourth. He’d have grinned, fixed her mess, and spun her around until she laughed.

But Kel hadn’t seen her father’s grin in two years. All she had to remember him by were debts and dry fields. A dull, sunken feeling crept through her, which only grew as she heard Dira’s approaching footsteps.

Behind her, she heard Dira say, “Oska’s… she’s…”

Kel tried to steel herself, even as her dread tunneled deeper. She turned to face her friend.

“She’s dead,” Dira finally managed. Her face crumpled and her body sagged, breaking beneath the weight of her words.

The world blurred, and Kel closed her eyes.

Death was as much a part of CAPR as phoenixes were. Kel had known that since she’d first entered a race. But that didn’t stop the ground from falling out from beneath her.

She’d only known Oska for a few months, but she knew enough .

Oska had two younger sisters. Her favorite sprites were violet and indigo.

She always tried to wear the most impractical, sequined shirts under her riding leathers.

Her family had money, but she’d come to Cendor to prove that she didn’t need it. She was as strong as any Saltan.

Kel heard Savita screech. The sound shocked her eyes open, and she hurried forward to wrap Dira in an embrace.

“I’m sorry,” Kel whispered, desperate to keep her voice steady.

Dira’s response was a close-lipped whimper.

Kel tightened her grip. “You should head home—I can pack up our equipment.”

Dira sniffled. “Are you okay?”

Kel didn’t answer. They stayed that way, staving off each other’s pain, until Savita screeched again.

Kel waited until Dira pulled back. Numbly, the pair lifted onto their toes and unbuckled the intricate girth around Savita’s stomach.

Kel forced herself to note Savita’s heat through the thermometer embedded in her collar.

Her temperature was a little higher than usual, which was normal after a race.

Kel caught the saddle as it fell off Sav’s two-meter-tall back, stumbling beneath the weight as nearby shouts grabbed her attention. She placed it on the ground and peered beneath Sav’s stomach, toward the voices.

Four figures crowded around a large blood phoenix and its rider. Kel could faintly make out the neon meteor emblem on the back of their uniforms, branding them as the Star Chasers—the team unfortunate enough to have the world’s biggest ass as their rider.

Coup slouched atop the phoenix as his teammates cursed and circled him.

Through her shock, a petty satisfaction pooled in Kel’s gut.

Even if Coup had won the race, Kel doubted that his team would be pleased with his dangerous maneuver.

The Star Chasers were well-known for their prim and proper attitude to racing.

Even if it didn’t garner them much media interest, it meant their sponsors didn’t have to worry as much about them destroying expensive gear.

Kel doubted they were eager to share in Coup’s hotheaded, reckless reputation.

Coup’s older brother, Bekn, stood at a distance from the other Star Chasers, with a blank expression and folded arms. The pair always seemed to shift teams together; Coup as a rider, Bekn as a mitigator, the latter responsible for publicity and sponsorship.

Most CAPR crews had the standard five members: tamer, rider, technician, winger and mitigator.

It was a mitigator’s job to encourage the parts of CAPR that made Kel want to pull out her hair: fame, publicity and meddlesome sponsorship.

But Kel and Dira had never found a mitigator they’d liked enough to bother retaining, especially with the rates most of them charged.

If Sav placed in the top three, that would provide enough fanfare and money to cover expenses until the next race.

Or, at least, it should have. If Oska’s life hadn’t brutally ended and Kel had been able to—

“How’s Savita?” Dira asked quietly, glancing up at the phoenix.

Kel stared at her friend. “She’s fine. Dira, are you sure you’re—”

Kel broke off as Rube approached. He stopped a few steps to Dira’s left, as close as he ever drew to Sav.

“We should get off the track so I can check our equipment.” He gestured to the saddle on the ground.

“I’ve got an app linked to Oska’s leathers, so I’ll…

I can see how they held up in the race. Even though the leathers are… ”

“I doubt we’ll be getting them back,” Dira offered gently.

Kel’s legs threatened to buckle.

The little color in Rube’s face drained away. Kel reached for the reins around Sav’s neck and glared at the Star Chasers. Coup stood alone on the ground, dusting his legs off, seemingly abandoned by his teammates.

Anger writhed between Kel’s ribs as she watched Coup. She latched onto that anger, wishing it hotter, letting it break through her numbness and tether her to the ground.

Kel held out Savita’s reins to Dira. “Can you lead Sav off the track? I’ll be over in a second.”

“Sure.” Dira’s gaze flickered to Coup. “Just don’t rip his head off completely,” she said in a low voice. “CAPR already lost one rider today.”