Page 7

FOUR

D ira thumped her hand against their disturbingly sticky table. She yelled up at the screens broadcasting today’s race. Dozens of voices joined hers.

The Ferret was overcrowded and smelled like a public aviary. Its mob stirred a small headache in Kel, but the food was hot and the drinks were sweet. Pressed beside her best friend, perched on a barstool, she tried to focus on her surroundings—not what might come after tonight.

Finn—the pub’s owner—brought over their first round of drinks, and they raised the tall glasses to Oska. The clink of the cups sent shivers down Kel’s spine, the sound far too similar to Oska’s own sharp screams.

They’d barely lowered their glasses when Rube appeared through The Ferret’s front doors.

Kel and Dira shouted a welcome, though Rube remained purse-lipped. Dira clapped him on the back. “You’re late! Here—we saved you a seat.”

Rube shook his head. He remained standing. Smothering her pride, Kel leaned across the clammy table. “Rube, about earlier today, I’m—”

“There’s no need, Kelyn.” Rube’s gaze lowered to the table. “I can’t stay. I just came to—”

The pub exploded as an old race began to play across the screens. Rube’s words were lost to the crowd.

Dira, to Rube’s left, let out a high laugh. “It almost sounded like you said—”

“I’m leaving,” Rube said, still staring at the table.

Kel frowned. “What?”

“Not just the team; I’m leaving Fieror.”

Kel reached forward again. “If this is about—”

“It’s not about Savita, or… Oska.” Rube shuffled back. “I’m moving to Vohre. I sent off an application months ago for Cendor University’s early-entry boarding program. They’re offering me a partial scholarship, and my parents said they’ll cover the rest.”

His features pinched, and he added, “I know the timing is… I wish it wasn’t so soon. I got the email this morning, but didn’t check my comms before the race. After what happened… with Oska…” Rube cleared his throat. “I don’t think I’m cut out for CAPR.”

Kel opened and closed her mouth. Eventually, Dira coughed and said, “ Wow. That’s… really amazing, Rube.”

Rube beamed, plucking up the courage to meet Dira’s eyes. His dimpled grin rounded his face, making him look even younger.

Rube was sixteen, a year younger than Kel and Dira.

Kel had found him at a local market, purchasing scraps to invent and trial his own tech.

Before he’d joined the Howlers, their old rider had been icing burns between races, their cheap leathers hardly up to code.

But with Rube’s fabrics and some inventive hardware, the Howlers had begun to hold their own against Fieror’s best—and wealthiest.

It was no surprise that Cendor University had accepted Rube. Or that he intended to leave the Howlers.

But the pit in Kel’s stomach, the same one she’d felt when her mother left, yawned awake.

Rube tried again, “I never thought I’d get in. But Cendor University has the best mechatronics and software courses in Salta. Canen Cristo graduated from there.”

“We get it,” Kel said, voice clipped. “When are you leaving?”

“Tomorrow morning.” Excitement glimmered in his eyes like stars, already tracing a new orbit.

Kel fumbled for Dira’s hand beneath the table. She knew what it meant to lose people, and she’d tried desperately to build jagged walls that no one but Dira could cross. And yet—Rube’s words suffocated her. Her mind whirred, grappling for something new, solid, to knit her back together.

Rube ran a hand through his sable-black hair. “You’re welcome to keep the suits I worked on and the software I was upgrading. Dira should be able to figure out the rest.”

“I’m sure I will,” Dira said, smiling tightly.

Kel squeezed Dira’s hand. Despite their revolving door of teammates, loyalty was everything to Dira. Kel doubted her best friend would soon forgive Rube.

Kel wanted to argue, to shake Rube and make him understand all that was at stake—but she knew it would make no difference, so she offered stilted congratulations instead, and closed her eyes as he left.

She’d expected nothing less for Rube’s future. Just not so soon.

Dira shook her head. “No notice in the middle of racing season, no help finding a replacement, no care that we already lost one Howler today. I’ll have to ring some contacts and beg for whispers of up-and-coming talent.”

Even if they continued to survive without a mitigator, they were now without a rider and a technician. Kel could act as a rider if she had to, but neither Kel nor Dira had the technical knowledge to toy with their equipment.

If the Howlers couldn’t compete, Kel would have no choice but to sell her farm.

Her father’s life insurance was running dry and the Howlers’ earnings weren’t enough to sustain Savita.

The aviary was a black hole that sucked in money as fast as if Savita had burned it, and the Cendorian Council had strict property expectations when it came to housing phoenixes.

I’m going to lose the farm.

I’ll lose Savita.

She quickly shoved down the thought. Nothing could force her to give up Savita. She’d fight like a wild phoenix before that happened.

Dira slouched on her stool. “Well, there goes that plan.”

“What plan?” Kel asked. She picked at the emblem she’d sewn onto her sleeve—the emblem she’d sewn onto everything the Howlers owned: a black, barbed infinity, overlaid by a burgundy flame.

Instead of responding, Dira glanced toward the inn’s wide doors.

Kel raised a brow. “Are you expecting more drop-bys?”

Dira merely shook her head and turned back to the nearest screen. An ad interrupted the race rerun, full of scripted smiles and vignetted montages. The camera panned to a woman in a black uniform. Her dark hair was bound in a tight bun and her olive skin was eerily flawless.

“Here at the Cendorian Defense Force, we look to the future. Join our research teams, phoenix wranglers, isle ambassadors, or even our sponsored CAPR crews, as we partner with Cendor University and Cristo Industries to fly our nation into its brightest tomorrow.”

As the ad faded to black, bitterness filled Kel’s mouth.

Her father had taught her to loathe the Cendorian government before she could walk.

Though she believed in the necessity of phoenix collars, she also knew that most phoenixes were removed from their natural habitat, destroying their chances of reproduction.

The government would cage every phoenix in Cendor for CAPR if they could.

They’d offered her father dozens of jobs over the years, but he’d never once aligned himself with the council or their allies, like Cristo Industries.

Kel’s focus broke as a creak sounded at her back. Dira’s gaze shifted to the front door, and Kel swiveled.

Coup and his brother, Bekn, paused inside the entrance, the soft dusk light framing their silhouettes.

Bekn had changed out of his crew uniform, sporting a gray tee and black trousers.

Russet-brown curls a few shades darker than Coup’s fell across his forehead, and his brown eyes scanned the inn.

Coup still wore his riding leathers. The gear was half-shrugged off, hanging loose around his waist, revealing a plain black shirt.

A smirk pulled up Kel’s lips as she spotted the purple-and-black bruise swelling Coup’s right eye, presumably from one of his disgruntled teammates.

Kel’s smirk vanished as Coup turned toward her and waggled his fingers. He meandered over to their table with Bekn close behind.

“Happy to see me, Varra?” Coup asked, drawing out each syllable.

It wasn’t strange for the brothers to frequent The Ferret. Still, this was the last thing Kel needed tonight.

She looked pointedly at Coup’s bruised eye. “I hope whoever gave you that made it hurt.”

Coup waved a hand. “Barely felt it.”

“The Star Chasers are lucky we’re not seeking legal recompense for the injury,” Bekn said, inching forward, creating a slight barrier between Kel and Coup.

Dira, Kel and Coup all snorted. Cendor’s council was more likely to implode than to care about punishing violence.

Bekn shook his head. The mitigator was perhaps an inch shorter than his younger brother, with a longer face and lankier build. Still, the family resemblance was strong enough that the media adored them both.

“What are you doing here?” Kel demanded.

Coup’s grin widened.

Dira scrunched her nose. “Okay, don’t bite my head off… but after you took Sav home from the track, I started chatting with Bekn. Turns out, they’re in need of a new team, and—”

Kel interrupted with a barked laugh. She swiveled to face Coup. “The Star Chasers booted you?”

Coup merely pursed his lips. Kel turned to Bekn. “I assume you followed suit and quit?”

Kel knew that Bekn was an ambitious mitigator who followed Coup across teams. And as much as Kel hated to admit it, Coup was a talented rider.

Some sycophantic reporters had even labeled him a “prodigy.” But he was also a spectacle, a gamble.

His recklessness often attracted the wrong sort of attention, and no team would recruit him unless they were desperate.

The Star Chasers were as spoiled as any sponsored team.

They wouldn’t want a rider who risked their reputation, and it seemed like Coup’s luck had finally run out.

Kel couldn’t believe they’d given him a shot in the first place.

Bekn regarded Kel warily, as if sizing up a phoenix.

Dira’s fingers drummed a fast rhythm against the table. “ They need a new team, and we are in need of a new rider. And I know we said we don’t need one, but…” Dira glanced up at Bekn. “A mitigator wouldn’t hurt our odds, either.”

Kel blinked. Her thoughts struggled to wade through disbelieving static, as heavy as the moisture coating the table.

Coup’s smile turned angelic, and something in Kel’s brain snapped.

“You’re not serious,” Kel said, staring at Dira.

Dira twirled a loose curl around her finger. “This whole conversation would’ve gone a lot smoother if Rube hadn’t just announced his departure, but either way, we need new mem—”

“Rube left? Your technician?” Bekn interrupted.

Dira raised a hand. “We’ll find a new technician. There’s plenty of scrappy inventors lurking around who’d take a shitty cut of race winnings.”

Coup inched closer to Kel’s side, his mere presence grating at her nerves.

“No!” she exploded, throwing up her hands. “ No. We’re not using Warren Coupers as a rider.” She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “The stunt he pulled today should make that obvious. One unlucky move and he’d hurt Savita as badly as he’d hurt himself—”

“What happened to your rider wasn’t Coup’s fault,” Bekn cut in. “Besides, you need a publicist, too.” He forced a tight, practiced smile.

Kel shook her head so violently that her rickety stool swayed. Had Dira forgotten that Kel hated Coup? Hated every thrill-seeking fiber of his being? Hated that he loved the glittery media attention? Hated everything he stood for?

“Absolutely not,” Kel barked. “Coup and I would have to train with Sav every day . We’d have to…” She trailed off, too many objections trying to force their way up her throat.

“We’d have to spend every hour working together.” Coup’s eyes drifted over Kel, heavy, unimpressed. “I told Bekn I’d rather walk into a kraken’s mouth.”

Kel’s upper lip curled. Having to work closely with Warren Coupers would be like trying to put out fire with gasoline. He would be constantly trying to creep beneath her skin, refusing to listen to her guidance and risking Sav’s health. Worst of all, he’d take pleasure in knowing Kel had no choice.

Maybe Sav would bite his head off. But that was a single ray of hope amid the nightmare her day-to-day life would become.

“Coup has already been dropped from three teams. He obviously can’t be trusted,” Kel implored, turning to Dira. “Why would this time be any different?”

“Because of sponsorship ,” Bekn cut in. “I’ve had meetings with lots of interested sponsors.

But because Coup’s… ah, methods… are usually different from our teammates’, it’s been hard to find a sponsor willing to endorse the entire team.

However, if we joined the Howlers, a younger, more open-minded team, I’d have a better chance of convincing sponsors that our goals are aligned.

” He gave Kel and Coup a pointed look. “All we have to do is play the part of a happy, healthy team.”

Coup sighed, resting his arms on the sticky wood. He was far too close for Kel’s liking, pressing his shoulder against hers to fit around the small table.

“It might be a lost cause, Bek,” Coup said. “Kel certainly is. The stick up her ass is wedged so deep, every time she opens her mouth you can see the other end.”

A headache twinged behind Kel’s temples. Before she could bite back, Dira cursed. “ For Alchemists’ sake! What choice do we have, Kel? We all need the money. And until we can secure sponsorship, desperation is more likely to help us win than anything else.”

Kel glared at Dira. “I just don’t—”

She never finished her sentence. At that moment, a shriek sounded outside, and a storm blasted through the room.