Asta couldn’t help but notice that she was not included in the Bruces’ defense. It was like they had forgotten she existed.
If only that were true.
Dr. Isley, who sat to Flávia’s left at the table, turned to face the chairwoman. ‘I am not familiar with Natalia Bruce, except by her family’s reputation, but I do know Asta Ekenberg. And I have to say, I find these accusations plausible.’
The door to the room opened. Asta glanced over to see Felix enter with his parents. Their eyes met across rows of empty chairs. Felix gave her a tight almost-smile and followed his parents to seats in the back of the room, directly behind Asta. She turned to face the front of the room again, but her neck burned with her awareness of them behind her. What was he doing here?
Flávia looked at Dr. Isley with an expression that revealed not a little dislike for the man. ‘What are you trying to say, Marvin?’
‘Asta was a student of mine at the Pillar School several years ago. Unfortunately, my assessment of her behavior falls perfectly in line with what Ms. Lowell is suggesting here today. During her enrollment, she proved to be quite reckless. She regularly flouted the standards of decorum we expect of students, and her willful and malicious violation of one of the most fundamental rules of racing resulted in a grave injury to one of her classmates– Felix Seraphin, in fact, who I see has just joined us. Not to mention the fact that she viciously attacked Ms. Lowell prior to her expulsion.’
Asta wanted to point out that she’d come out of that fight far worse off than Pikki, but Dr. Isley rolled on in his litany of Asta’s failings.
‘When disciplined, she expressed no remorse whatsoever.’
That was a lie. Just because she hadn’t thrown herself on the ground weeping hadn’t meant that Asta wasn’t sorry. She had pleaded with him to believe her. She had thought, for sure, that she was far enough ahead to rise safely. She hadn’t meant to hurt Felix. To be fair, shewasn’tsorry about Pikki, but what she’d done to Felix had eaten her alive.
‘Her failure to adhere to mandated safety standards, as demonstrated in yesterday’s race, only underscores this pattern of behavior.’ Dr. Isley looked over at the other board members, who cast suspicious glances at Asta. Asta couldn’t bear to look Tess Curie in the face.
‘Damn,’ Gem whispered.
Asta felt like the walls of the bland meeting room were starting to close in on her. The ceiling with its fluorescent lights seemed too close. The air, too sluggish in her throat. The dull rumble of the track noise leaking through the walls threatened to crush her. She counted her breaths, trying to convince herself that it was helping. In-two-three. Out-two-three.
Why had she gone with Nat? She was such a numbskull. Dr. Isley was right. Shewasreckless. She hurt people– that’s just what she did. Once again, she had ruined everything.
‘Ms. Ekenberg, would you like to defend yourself?’ Flávia asked, her tone flat and detached.
Asta swallowed and looked at Gem. He gave her a bewildered look and shrugged. Well, she had to try, didn’t she? It was her dream on the line. His, too. Their dreams were worth fighting for.
‘Asta?’ Flávia prompted.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Asta’s voice came out thin and unsure. ‘I have been dreaming of racing in Silverscale since I was twelve years old. It’s all I have wanted since I saw my first race on that old TV back home. I sacrificed so much to get here. More than anyone will ever know. Why would I ever risk losing it?’
She choked on the knot of guilt in her throat. It was a legitimatequestion. Whyhadshe risked it? It would be easy to blame Nat, but Asta had her own reasons for racing. She was chasing something. The danger. The risk. Even though it could cost her everything. Maybebecauseit could cost her everything.
Asta looked Flávia directly in the eye. The flat light of the meeting room made her face look closed off and severe. Asta half wished that her words worked like an enchanter’s charm, and saying them would tame that unruly part of herself that seemed to bring all this trouble down on her head.
‘Why would I do it? Just to get a thrill? To prove something? It’s not worth it.’
But it was. Every time she got on Carmine’s back, and they left the ground, and all she could hear was his wings and his breath and hers, it was all worth it. If she was standing there in that depot again with Hummer and Tru and the rest of the Bruces, and they were offering her a race, would she choose differently? Of course not. She would ride. She would always ride.
‘Please.’ Asta could feel everyone’s eyes on her. ‘Please let me race.’
‘Flávia, I apologize for the interruption.’ All the heads in the room turned. It was Peter Seraphin. Standing, he fastened the button on his suit jacket. He was like a CEO addressing his board, confident that they would rubber-stamp whatever he brought before them. Beside him, Felix looked far less comfortable. He was sitting on the edge of his chair, his toes on the ground, ready to spring to his feet at any moment.
Flávia’s face softened as she looked at Felix, but her eyes, lifting to his father, were quizzical. ‘What is it, Peter?’
Peter Seraphin put a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Felix was insistent that we come and speak on behalf of Ms. Ekenberg. If you don’t mind, I’ll do that now. Though I cannot vouch for the company she keeps.’
He turned his haughty eyes on the Bruces, several rows ahead of them. Hummer crossed his arms over his stomach and dipped his chin to break Peter’s gaze, a sour smirk on his face. Tru made a rather rude gesture, first with one hand, then with the other, in slow succession.
‘I can affirm that Ms. Ekenberg is a dedicated rider with a great deal of natural talent. I have known her since she was a child, and her interest in racing professionally, as she has already asserted, has been unwavering in that time.’
He glanced down at Asta, who was twisted in her seat to look at him. He wore the same expression as always. The only time his face did not look like this– his strong jaw set, and his brow just a little furrowed, as if deep in contemplation– was when he was on the back of a dragon.
Riding, his face would open up like a moonflower at dusk. It was the only time Asta could remember seeing him laugh. It was the only time he expressed any emotion at all, really. He would ride out in the fields with them and shout instructions as he ran the course he had set up for the day’s training. When he missed a jump, he would curse and grimace and go back to do it again, determination making his eyes blaze.
The rest of the time, he looked just like he looked now. Little changes in his mouth were the only way to tell whether he was pleased or disappointed, bored or nervous. At this moment, his mouth formed a slight, pursed frown. He did not want to be here, Asta thought. Peter Seraphin would happily let her get kicked out of the tournament like she had been kicked out of Pillar.
