Asta felt invisible in the best possible way. In spite of the little burst of attention from the papers this week, she did not draw a crowd on the street like Felix did. No one thought twice about a rider, helmet in hand, making her way into the raceway and along the edge of the track. She paused, ostensibly studying the course, though her position at the main entrance did not afford a great view of the terrain. Really, she was watching for the inspectors.
At last they came, Yixin among them. They split up into pairs and began working their way from one pit to the next. Nat’s crew was in the fourth slot. Asta took a few aimless steps in the opposite direction around the outer track. Ten more minutes, and she could deliver the jar and be done with all of this.
She could not keep her thoughts from returning to Felix as she waited. The magnetism between them had not faded during their years apart. If anything, it was stronger than ever. Asta blushed thinking of what it felt like to be near him, the way her body gravitated toward his.
The track had been freshly rolled and conditioned this morning, and the graveled surface was even and dense. It always surprised Asta how wide the track actually was. Jostling with a crowd of other dragon–rider teams, avoiding side spikes and looking for openings, it felt much smaller. But standing here now, with the stands that rose like the foothills of a vast mountain range encircling her, she felt like a little mouse creeping around the floor of a giant’s kitchen.
On the other side of the track rose the terrain obstacles, glittering in their illusions. The theme of today’s course was industry, and the fences sported huge cogs and pistons in constant motion. Illusory steam billowed from stacks atop the canyon towers, as if they were part of a power plant. Asta couldn’t see much of the mountain scramble from where she was, but she imagined that, among the goats and shepherds’ huts, there might be tractors or combines. Maybe, if the illusionists were feeling cheeky, the goats themselves would be styled as mechanized automatons frisking up and down the scramble.
‘Sorry about that.’
Asta turned. Felix had finally caught up to her, still wearing that same beaming smile he had on his face when she’d left him.
‘Thanks for waiting,’ he added with a touch of sarcasm.
Asta glanced over his shoulder at the pits. The inspectors were with Nat’s crew. Why did he have to stage this reconciliation now? Couldn’t he have waited until she’d done her dirty work for Hummer? Couldn’t he have come back into her life after she had paid her debts and gotten free? Then she would be someone worth loving again.
Felix followed her gaze with a turn of his head. ‘You nervous about this afternoon?’
‘A little,’ Asta said.
‘You’re going to do great.’
‘I wish people would stop saying that.’
‘Stop winning. They’ll stop saying it.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Brilliant.’
‘Let’s get some seats in the riders’ section before they fill up and we get stuck watching from the nosebleeds.’
‘I kind of like it up there. You can see the whole course.’
Felix made a face. ‘That’s what the screens are for.’
‘Suit yourself. Go find seats. I’ll catch up. I have something to do first.’
‘I’ll come with you. Where are we going?’
He had been serious about his proposal. It was as if he had instantly forgotten about the pain that stood between them and gone straight back to the days when they had been inseparable. She had not expected it to be quite this easy to fall back into their routines. She wasn’t sure that itwasthat easy for her. Was this what he meant by going through the hard parts? It felt more like skipping right over them.
More to the point, Asta needed to deliver the jar, which would be complicated with him tagging along.
‘I was just going to wish Nat good luck.’ She watched him closely, hoping that the prospect of coming face to face with the Bruces would be enough of a deterrent, but Felix was determined.
‘Yeah, alright. Let’s go.’
With a sinking heart, Asta led the way.
The pit was crawling with Bruces edging their way around Vulture, who filled most of the open space. The pit chief was Nat’s second cousin Orville, a humorless man of about forty whom Asta had never seen with a clean face. What kind of a person he was or what he did in his spare time, Asta couldn’t say. Nat’s crew seemed like extensions of Hummer rather than individual people. When he summoned them, they came. When he gave instructions, they obeyed. They laughed at jokes that Asta never heard– except Orville, who never laughed– and gave Nat a hard time whenever the opportunity presented itself.
Orville didn’t acknowledge Asta as she approached the lip of the pit; he was too busy chewing out Yohn, a stoop-shouldered young man who had spent the summer training under Torque at Asta’s tournaments before being transferred to Nat’s crew.
Asta crouched by the edge of the pit, her helmet hanging from the fingers of her left hand and waved to get Orville’s attention. ‘Hey. Is Nat around?’
Before Orville could answer, someone grabbed Asta’s shoulders and pushed her forward. She shrieked and fought to keep from falling into the pit. Vulture’s head swung around at the sound. A startled dragon was a dangerous dragon. In the mayhem, Asta’s helmet slipped from her fingers. Orville, who had a sixth sense devoted to protecting helmets from impact, leapt forward to catch it before it hit the ground.
Whoever had pushed Asta forward was now pulling her back, and she fell against their legs.
