Their torrid romance had supposedly ended when she’d made Felix choose between her and his career. And when he had chosen racing, she had taken her revenge. The accident. The illegal move that she had pulled, the article explained, quoting an anonymous source, had nearly killed him. He escaped death, but even so, it almost ended his career. She had gotten away with a slap on the wrist and had now unofficially aligned herself with the lowlife of the racing world, the Bruce family. Pikki’s fingerprints were all over this piece. She just couldn’t let Asta live in peace, could she?
At the bottom of the article was a picture from Asta’s encounter with Felix this morning at the exercise grounds, not two hours ago. The photo was taken through the fence. Asta, mounted on Carmine, sneered as Felix berated her from the ground, his face troubled. Asta stared at the picture, uncomfortable with the story it told.
The description of their impromptu race, though sensationalized, was at least factual. Both riders had thrown caution to the wind in a tooth-and-nail fight to best the other. ‘Assuming both riders and their dragons advance from their respective preliminary heats tomorrow,’ the article read, ‘the long-shot contender, Ekenberg, may face her old flame and the renowned racing icon, Seraphin, as early as day five of the tournament. Rosters for the semifinals will be reported here as soon as they are released. Subscribe now to be the first to know!’
Asta handed the news reader back, her skin crawling. ‘Half of that is bald-faced lies.’
‘No such thing as bad press, right?’ Leia muttered as she scanned the article.
‘I think that’s just a saying,’ Asta said.
The other rider scuffed her shoe on the ground meditatively. ‘You’re new at this, aren’t you?’
‘I guess.’
‘The thing is. . .’ Leia kicked her chin out at the starting line, now thick with drakes and riders. ‘When you’re out there, it doesn’t matter if people are saying your name because they hate you or love you. All that matters is that someone is saying your name. Trust me. Maybe you’re too young to remember, but for a second, about four years ago, everyone knew my name.’
Asta did remember now. She had watched the race on the televisions in the empty dorms at Pillar. Everyone else had been here, at Horizons Raceway. Leia Oppel had been a favorite coming into the Grand Prix. The future of racing. The next Tess Curie. But she had choked in the prelims, barely making it to the semis. And then, in her semifinal heat, she’d lost control of her dragon: it had flamed a rider with a direct blast and attacked two other dragons, laming one of them and causing a cascade of accidents on the course. Leia had pulled her dragon out of the fray and finished the race in spite of a hefty time-delay penalty. The catastrophe to the field had been so bad that finishing was all that was needed to qualify. Leia had advanced to the final race where she was greeted as a villain, the crowds shouting at her and booing.
‘I didn’t care,’ Leia said, ‘that people were saying my name like it was a dirty word. At least theyknewmy name.’ Leia flipped the darkened news reader back and forth between her hands. ‘But then everyone moved on and forgot about me.’ She shook her head, as if to chase the memory away. ‘Look, I’m not proud of what happened, but that day gave me something I’ve never had since.’
‘I don’t care if people know my name,’ Asta said. It troubled her that she didn’t know if that was true or not. ‘I just want to win.’
‘People already know your name, Asta Ekenberg,’ Leia said. She gave Asta one last jealous look and walked away.
From the other side of the middle terrain, the horn sounded. A roar went up from the crowd, rushing down on Asta from all sides.
The flag had dropped, and the drakes were off. Asta glanced up at the VIP deck. Peter and Sofia were watching the race through binoculars. Had they seen the article yet? Had they spoken to reporters about her? What would they say if they were asked, she wondered.
Asta had thought, at one point, that Felix’s parents had become somewhat fond of her, in spite of her tendency to distract their son from his homework and his formal training. Now, she knew it had been something else, not affection. They had used her in the way the Bruces were using her– to push Felix, to motivate him, to give their golden boy a run for his money.
At least Hummer had told her that was his expectation from the beginning. Seeing Hummer at his worst last night had shaken Asta. It had terrified her. But if she was totally honest with herself, it hadn’t really surprised her. Just like it wouldn’t surprise her when, one day, Nat forgot about her, as if their friendship had meant nothing. The Bruces had never made her believe that they were anything other than what they were.
The Seraphins had. And that’s why their betrayal had hurt so much. She had not seen it coming. She had thought– with Felix, with his parents– that there had been something more there. Something real. But all they wanted was to control her, to use her. Their son, their family, always came first.
The Ekenberg Farm
13
Asta’s mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, her hand on the railing, her face in a scowl. ‘Asta, everyone is here. Come down, please.’
Asta wanted to scream. ‘You’re literally watching me walk down the stairs right now. I don’t know what else you want.’
Maeve Ekenberg eyed her daughter critically. ‘Can’t you put something nice on?’
Asta looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a riding camp T-shirt that she had stolen from Felix and a pair of cut-off jeans.
‘This is what I look like. If they don’t like it, then they don’t like me.’
Maeve sighed. ‘For heaven’s sakes. The least you can do is hurry up. Everyone’s waiting for you.’
Asta came down a few stairs and bent her head to see into the living room. Her cousins– Gem, Leif, and Hadi– were all clustered on the plaid-covered couch.
Gem was interning at a talent agency this summer and had come in for the weekend just for Asta’s party. He was wearing his city clothes, as if that would impress anyone. The sleeves of his linen suit jacket were pushed up his forearms, and his curly hair was swept high off his forehead. When Asta and her parents had gone out to visit him last month, he had been unbearable, trying to slip in the names of the supposedly famous singers he was meeting. Asta hadn’t heard of any of them, which had spoiled his mood a bit.
Aunt Alice, Uncle Rashad, and Hadi, who was the baby of the family at twelve, had picked up Gem in Port Veracruz before driving the two hours to the farm. Leif had told their parents that they wanted to be a farmer someday, and they had been staying in the spare room next to Asta’s all summer, helping out with the new calves born this spring. Gem and Hadi were currently ganging up on Leif, poking them in the face and neck as Leif swatted at their brothers’ hands.
Aunt Alice was standing with Asta’s father, Linden, their drinks resting on the top of the unlit cast-iron woodstove. She was laughing at something he said. Grandma Ekenberg was sitting in Papa’s easy chair fanning herself with a magazine. Uncle Rashad had pulled up a chair next to her and was nodding along to whatever she was saying– probably a drawn-out account of her efforts to keep the deer out of her flowerbeds at the cottage where she and Grandpop had lived since retiring from the farm. Through the wide doorway that led to the dining room, Asta could see the legs of Grandpop, Uncle Carl, and Aunt Leona.
