Dira’s eyes landed on Kel’s desk, where her old tablet and keyboard sat. “Aha—never mind.”
Dira staggered forward, dropping her bags to the ground with a heavy, expensive-soundingthud.
“Please, make yourself at home,” Kel said dryly. “How are you feeling?”
“I’mfeelingthat we don’t have time to…” Dira’s voice thickened, cutting off her words. She cleared her throat and plucked a data chip loose from her pocket, lifting Kel’s tablet and propping up the screen.
A moment later, Dira coughed. “Flames, Kelyn—I think a ghost just flew out of your keyboard. Have you even used this since the last time I was here?”
“I use the tablet in the aviary to track Savita’s vitals. I haven’t used that thing in months. You might as well take it.”
“You live way closer to Fieror’s races. It’s easier to keep the data here with our girl.”
Savita squalled and shook the office walls again. Kel let the sound wash over her like sunlight, burying the memory of Oska’s screams.
“We’re going to need to find a new rider,” Dira sighed, leaning back in the desk chair.
Kel’s stomach dropped. She knew, beneath the even words, Oska’s death ate at Dira as much as it did Kel—probably more. Dirahad been the one to discover Oska at their local inn. She’d been the one to push through Kel’s qualms and insist Oska train as their new rider, only in part because of her infatuation with the beautiful Asciran at the time. Though Dira’s crushes were as common and rapid as AB, they’d spent plenty of time together outside of training sessions. But neither Dira nor Kel had the time to grieve that money afforded.
Stiffly, Kel nodded. She began scrubbing at the hardened soot on Savita’s saddle. Though she used a bristle brush, her nails were instantly coated with a thick layer of black.
Dira twisted back toward the tablet, and they both worked in silence. Though Kel was relieved neither of them forced conversation, she wished she had anything to distract her thoughts from Oska.
A numb part of Kel knew Oska would never have survived CAPR for long. Oska hadn’t been built for Cendor. She’d hesitated to approach Savita for too long, too comfortable in Ascira’s refinement. Nothing could have truly prepared her for what CAPR would demand from her.
But Kel should have tried harder to show her.
Kel crouched on her cot, brushing her sketch pad and carving kit off the small bed. Both were gifts from her father. Drawing—and then carving her designs into leather—were perhaps the only things she could lose herself in that didn’t involve Savita.
Noise from the tablet made Kel glance up. A document filled half the tablet screen, while the other half was divided into five video feeds. Each video showed today’s race from a different angle.
It was Dira’s job to map out what she could of racetracks, to learn about their opponents’ histories and weaknesses. It helped to know which phoenixes had been born free in Vohre Forest, not captivity,and which were prone to violence. But research could only prepare CAPR teams so much. Dira had an uncanny ability to predict how different terrains would affect different phoenix subspecies, from the revered monarch phoenixes to the smallest, camouflaging cape phoenixes. Dira called it pattern recognition. Kel called it a miracle. Both were probably true.
“Oh,” Dira said, turning to rummage through another duffel bag. “I forgot—you have a new postcard.”
Kel snatched the postcard from Dira’s fingers. “You went through my mail?”
“There were letters in there from months ago. You could’ve missed a bill or something.”
Kel raised a brow. She never missed a bill, even if she couldn’t pay them. But shedidchoose to leave postcards inside her mailbox.
DatedDay 20 of the Molten Season, Year 1509 of the Alchemy Age, the postcard’s dainty handwriting read:
My darling Kelyn,
Ascira’s beautiful this time of year. The sprites are blossoming with the flowers. In the Steeling Season, the creatures mingle with the falling snow, all silvery and soft. But in the Molten Season, they blossom and light up the sky like a crumbled rainbow, blues and yellows and reds that remind me of phoenixes and your father. And the people here—you’d love them!
So many visitors from across the world. You’d never think Cendor was just a few hours away.
There’s a few of those religious cultists leaking into Ascira from Ebrait. Most of the Fume I’ve seen are harmless, throwing pamphlets into the streets and getting drunk off sprite magic. Some claim to be prophets of the Serpent King, here to free Salta’s creatures from us. Such garbage. Don’t worry about me, though—they wouldn’t dare try anything too extreme in Ascira, especially now that the island’s ramping up for tourism season.
I’m doing fine. Funds are a little low, but there’s plenty of jobs now that more tourists are scurrying about.
Hope to hear from you.
Love,
Mom
