Page 4

Kel’s throat thickened. Stiffly, she nodded. Dira reached into a pocket and pulled free a handful of dried insects. Though Sav’s feathers rose as Kel moved away, her beady eyes latched onto Dira’s hand.

“Come on, beastie,” Dira sighed heavily. “Kel and I have the butcher’s best cuts waiting for you at home.”

As Dira and Rube led Sav off the track, Kel marched over to where Coup dawdled, still preening like a phoenix in a pageant.

“Are you proud of yourself?” Kel hissed, clenching her fists. She let her anger swell, hotter, sharper. It was far more comforting than the sound of Oska’s screams, still echoing in her ears like static.

Coup turned toward Kel. His glass goggles rested on his chestnut curls, and dimples creased the leather bandanna covering the lower half of his face. He yanked the fabric down and offered Kel a pearly grin, amber eyes glowing.

“Ah, Varra,” he sang. “How did I know you’d be the first to congratulate me on today’s win?”

It was far from the first time she’d heard that taunting voice, and still it made her blood heat.

For two years, it had been rare for a race to end without Coup or Kel screaming at the other about careless maneuvers or unearned victories.

Something about his ease amid CAPR’s carnage always made her temper boil over.

She stalked closer. “Because of your reckless stunt, my rider’s dead . ”

Coup brushed a languid hand through his hair. “I didn’t force anyone to attempt my move. Maybe it was your job to stop her from trying to pull it off.”

Kel hoped he didn’t notice her wince.

“You’re just lucky you didn’t meet the same fate, and you know it!” she seethed.

Red tinted her vision as she drank in his cold, cruel smile. Oska’s fall, Kel’s overdue farm payments, the unexpected memory of her father—all of it flooded to the surface, congealing into an easier, familiar anger at Warren Coupers.

Coup sighed. “That move probably got the race an extra few million views. The only thing that’s illegal in CAPR is boring the camera crew.

But I don’t need to tell you that, Varra,” he taunted.

“If CAPR listened to you, Cendor would be betting on which phoenix’s feathers are cleanest, not the races. ”

Kel’s eye twitched. That was the fundamental difference between her and Warren Coupers.

On paper, they had plenty in common. Though they hadn’t met before they’d started competing, they both lived east of Fieror.

They’d both started competing in CAPR two years ago.

Both had been initially attacked by media outlets for racing as teens, and both frequented the same local pub after each race.

That was where their similarities ended.

Warren Coupers stood for everything Kel hated about CAPR. While racing was a last resort for her, Coup relished the thrill of it. He lavished the media with all the care he should have placed on his phoenix. The media in turn adored him for it and, even worse, the vain golden boy knew it.

“Your team didn’t seem that impressed with your stunt,” she threw back, folding her arms. “The Star Chasers are all glamor and no risk. I won’t be surprised if they give you the boot.” Kel held up three gloved fingers. “What’s this? Your third crew in two years?”

A muscle feathered in Coup’s jaw, though his grin stretched wider. “Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, tamer. Earn your place on the track, or get off it.” He dusted an invisible piece of lint from his jacket. “Either way, you should mind your own business before you lose another teammate.”

Kel frowned. Coup pointed behind Kel with a wink, and she held his stare for a moment longer before turning around.

To the right of the track, Dira had led Savita to a green patch away from the other teams. Dira was squatting, sifting through a duffel bag, while Rube approached Savita with his arm outstretched.

He cupped something dark—likely a dried treat—in one hand, with the other held up as if to pet Savita.

The feathers along Sav’s back raised, her long neck coiled tight.

Coup gave a wicked laugh as Kel bolted toward Savita, slowing down only to weave between grumbling phoenixes and narrow-eyed crews.

“Rube!” she screamed, though the surrounding phoenixes drowned her voice.

Sav prowled forward, toward Rube. Her round black eyes locked onto his pale face, her beak hovering just above his raised fingers. Sav released a deep grumble, daring Rube to touch her.

Kel reached her teammates just as Rube’s mouth fell into a wide O .

“Rube,” she said, an urgent whisper, trying to calm her heavy breathing. “Back up, slowly. Don’t meet her stare.”

Rube lowered his gaze and sucked in short breaths. Kel heard Dira swivel toward them.

That should have satisfied Savita. Instead, the phoenix mirrored Rube, taking a menacing step forward for each one Rube took back. Savita’s unblinking gaze darted between Rube’s head and the hand he’d tried to lay on her.

Kel guessed what Savita would do a split second before the phoenix moved.

Savita’s wings rustled and colorful flames stirred the air.

The firebird dove toward Rube, her knife-sharp beak aimed for his chest. Kel shoved Rube back and leaped in front of him, blocking Savita’s path.

She heard Rube thud to the ground. Savita’s rough beak was pressed against Kel’s stained shirt.

Kel felt a tapered edge prick her sternum, likely drawing blood, but move no further.

As Kel caught her footing, Savita shuffled back, just a step.

Eventually, she huffed, folded her wings and turned toward a nearby tuft of grass.

Kel let out a relieved gasp. She turned to Rube, hoping her smile hid how fast her heart hammered. “She doesn’t mean anything by it, Rube. You haven’t spent much time with her, and she’s restless after the race.”

She was lying, and they all knew it. No matter how much time passed, Savita still refused to let almost anyone near her—let alone touch her.

“I just… I wanted to help make sure she’s okay, after Oska…” Rube trailed off. Dira tried to help him to his feet, but he jerked away.

He shook his head and pointed a shaking finger at Savita. “But… that thing just left Oska on the track to bleed out,” he yelled. “It shouldn’t even be allowed to race.”

Kel’s guilt slipped away. Her jaw clenched and she stepped toward Rube. Though he was taller, she hovered over him, her shadow seeping along the ground.

“Leave it, Kel,” Dira muttered.

Kel poked at Rube. “ Her name is Savita. She’s a phoenix , Rube. Not a house cat. If you try to touch her when we’ve told you not to, it’s your fault if you get yourself hurt.”

“Was it Oska’s fault, too, then?” Rube fumed.

Kel felt as if he’d hit her. The ringing— Oska’s screaming —in her ears returned, and her vision tilted.

Rube’s eyes widened. He stepped toward Kel, and she stepped back. “Kel, I—”

But Kel had already turned away, praying he didn’t see the tear creeping down her cheek.