“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. “Areyouokay?”
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, thatwould 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.”
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’sdead.”
Coup brushed a languid hand through his hair. “I didn’t forceanyoneto 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.
