Asta recoiled from the force of his anger. ‘Dr. Isley, I—’
‘If you aren’t ready, you don’t race. You were taught better.’
He was talking to her like some headstrong and wicked child. She hated that he could still make her feel like that. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the words cold against her teeth.
‘Your apologies are meaningless, Asta.’ He wheeled and pointed. ‘There are consequences!’ A pair of ambulances made their way out the main gate of the raceway slowly and solemnly, their passengers in no need of haste. ‘Milo Moon was a good man!’
Asta’s heart sank. She had rushed Carmine out of the pits. She remembered him rearing, right at the start. What if Dr. Isley was right? What if he had spooked the other dragons?
‘Wait, what?’ Nat said, squinting at Dr. Isley. ‘You’re saying that was Asta’s fault? What race were you watching?’
But Asta knew he wasn’t really talking about today. He was talking about the accident three and a half years ago. All the guilt that Felix had tried to lay on her during their race at the exercise grounds came rushing at her now, as if it had been following her around, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
‘Nat, it’s okay—’
‘No, it’s not! Dr. Ass-ly here is a freaking liar. It wasn’t your fault.’
Dr. Isley flared his nostrils and ground his hands together. ‘It was. She came on to the track late and clearly unprepared, and she unsettled the field. Furthermore, she was not tethered. The win, such as it was, is a technicality. Her equipment is subpar, barely sufficient to meet regulation. Having her on the course is a danger to every other rider.’
‘I didn’t hurt anyone,’ Asta murmured, but it was Asta who felt like the liar. Shehadhurt someone. Not today. But she had.
Nat wasn’t done. ‘It was the fuckingregulation equipmentthat caused the problem in the first place. The first dragon that fell got tangled in its own damned leg guards. Fancy as hell, and look what happened. You saw the replay. If Asta had been tethered, she’d be dead. So you can take your regulation equipment and shove it straight up your rectum sideways.’
Asta watched Allie’s face transmute from wide-eyed shock to utter delight. Nat was going to make the papers today, too, Asta figured.
Maybe Asta had been wrong about Nat.
She replayed the previous evening in her head. What’s to say that wasn’t just Nat being Nat? Asta could have gone home if she wanted to. It wasn’t malicious. There was no conspiracy.
The fact was, when the chips were down, Nat had her back. She had not left her on her own. And right now, that’s all that Asta wanted.
Asta followed Nat back to her room and this time did not stop her when she pulled the zipper of her jumpsuit down and stepped her out of it. She let Nat touch her blooming bruises with gentle fingertips. She did not say no when she led her to the shower and pushed her in. Nat ran the water so hot that Asta’s skin turned red where it touched her, but the pain felt good, like pushing back the fire hedge with a burst of dragon flame.
Nat was surprisingly gentle with her, holding her hand as she stepped out of the shower. They tiptoed together across the tile floor.
But as soon as they reached the bed, Nat pushed her down and pinned her there, hands on Asta’s elbows. Asta’s body throbbed with the pain of her injuries, but if she stopped Nat now, she would have to leave. And outside of this room, her guilt was waiting. Nat’s kisses came one after another, hard and furious, driving everything else away.
When she let Asta go free and rolled away, waiting for her on the other side of the bed with a wild look in her eyes, Asta followed despite the complaints coming from her injured body. She reached for Nat and kissed her with desperation, but Nat pushed her back down to the bed and began to work her way down Asta’s belly with little bites and kisses. Asta gave all her attention to what Nat was doing, blocking out Dr. Isley’s accusations and Felix and the river– all of it.
What they were doing felt like a race, as if they were daring each other to go faster and harder, damn the danger, damn the consequences. It was like they were hurling themselves off the roof of the building, free-falling, the ground too far below to matter.
Asta borrowed a pair of warm-up pants and a windbreaker from Nat and hobbled back to her own suite, rumpled jumpsuit over her arm, helmet in hand. The pain in her back and leg was so bad now that she almost gave up and lay down on the sidewalk, but somehow she found herself standing at the door to her room, key card in hand.
The first thing she spotted when she walked through the door was that the illusion on the counter had changed. She moved closer to see Carmine perched on top of the Needle, white-hot flames spewing from his mouth and a tiny Asta clinging to his back, her fist in the air.
There was a new bouquet of flowers beside the tulips. Yellow roses streaked with red. Asta took out the white card tucked under the vase, her name scrawled on the front.
Congratulations on your win today,the card said.But from now on, it’s Nat’s race.
It was signed,Your friends, the Bruces.
What was that supposed to mean? Nat’s race?
You’ve had your fun, Ek,they seemed to be telling her.Now it’s Nat’s turn.
Well, good for Nat. What did they want her to do about it?
Asta pocketed the note and made her way sluggishly back to the track to watch the rest of the Standard Western Class Prelims; the second heat had come and gone while she and Nat were otherwise occupied, but there were still two left. She found a vantage point high up in the stands and slouched her aching body into a seat, only half of her attention on the races.
