Page 154 of The Throne Seeker

She was shocked at the idea of Moretti already having such thoughts.He only met me minutes ago. He couldn’t care less if I live or die.

On the contrary. He cares very much,the sleipnir stated as if he knew it for a fact.That was a calculated display of support. He wants people to know he is rooting for you.

She contemplated the idea.Onlybecause we’re making him a lot of money.

That, too,the sleipnir agreed,but it doesn’t make the former any less true.

Rose’s gaze went to the stand, searching for Roman, but he was nowhere to be found. Slowly, she touched her neck, her fingertips brushing the spot still burning from his kiss. Her heartbeat quickened as she replayed the scene in her mind.

How does Roman feel about me?she asked.

I won’t tell you,the sleipnir replied.

Why not? You didn’t seem to have a problem telling me about Moretti.

Because it’s a question you need to ask him yourself. Felix doesn’t matter to you. Roman does,the sleipnir stated as if all knowing.You like him. I could tell by the flutter of your heartbeats when he touched you.

No,she denied.I can’t like him.

Why not?

It’s complicated,was all she would disclose. Her heart wrenched as Tristan’s handsome face flashed across her mind.

Pushing it away, she took a large, cleansing breath and straightened her back. She had more worrisome things to consider.

Like the small fact that she might die.

The trumpets sounded, signaling the race was about to begin. “Welcome, citizens of Vallor… to the sixty-seventh Snorri race!” The announcer’s voice rang through an enchanted bullhorn.

Cheers of excitement erupted from the crowd as the racers waved and cheered with them, including Halmar, who roared beside her.

“Each contestant will compete for the title of Snorri Champion. There is only one lap this year, starting and finishing right here at the white line. The rules are simple… there are no rules,” the announcer said slyly.

Another wave of cheers erupted, more barbaric. Bloodthirsty.

She suppressed a shiver.

“The goal is to survive and cross the finish line first. Will it be the two-time champion, Tridar Higgins?”

The man on the brown sleipnir thrust his fist into the air.

“Or will it be our last-minute entry, Draya Santres?”

An even louder roar came from the audience. She lifted her hand to the crowd, forcing a smile.

“Moretti seems to know something we don’t, apparently,” he muttered, then raised his voice again. “Without further ado, let the race begin! Riders, approach your marks.”

The riders and their sleipnirs entered their pens, stopping at the closed, covered gate. Her nerves reached their capacity as her hands squeezed the sleipnir’s hair in a death grip.

Don’t be afraid,the sleipnir reassured her.Trust your instincts. We’ll get through this.

The world around her drowned out and her mind went quiet as she concentrated on remembering how to breathe. If her sleipnir could manage to race as fast as her heartbeat, they’d win in a sinch.

“Riders ready,” the announcer boomed. “On your mark… get set…go!”

The gates flew open, and all hell broke loose.

Rose’s sleipnir went from a standstill one second into a full gallop the next, thrusting them forward from the pen. He sprinted at such an intense speed, it was hard to keep her eyes open, the wind thrashing her dress. Her fellow riders were blurs, all crowded together in a clump, making it impossible to step even a foot out of line—or more than one rider would pay the price.