Asta couldn’t argue with that.
Nat had shrugged it off. ‘One day I’ll get my shot at making itmean somethingto be a Bruce. We’ll be more than a bunch of asshole punks doing what the chief asshole says. You wait, Ek, it’s gonna be glorious.’ The image of Nat running the Bruce family in Hummer’s place had stuck with Asta. It reminded her of what Tess had said– that the Bruces used to be different. Bad, but not bad-bad. Maybe it could be that way again.
If only Nat had meant what she said. But as far as Asta could see, she bowed to Hummer’s whims like everyone else. They were all afraid of that cruel little man in a bucket hat. And look where it had gotten them.
A long horn sounded, and down on the track, the teams were released from the pits in a choreographed dance of flags. Asta and Felix watched without saying anything to one another. Neither of them felt much like cheering.
Tossing her head convulsively, Vulture tore away from the pits and into the terrain with uncanny speed. She was almost more than Nat could control. Vulture and Nat fought their way, tooth and talon, out of the middle of the pack. By the time they went airborne at the top of the mountain, they were in third place.
Asta knew exactly what had been swabbed into the dragon’s nostrils to make her run so fast, and she waited for the wave of relief that would tell her she was not responsible for what had happened to Pikki. But it didn’t come. The fact of the matter was, the Bruces had tried to kill Pikki, and Asta was on their side, doing their dirty work, as cowardly as the rest of them.
Lose,she thought as Nat and Vulture tore through the air around the buoys. Asta did not want to know what Hummer would ask of her next.
Lose.
They touched down again on the track for the final sprint. Vulture could not hold her position. One team passed them. Then another. But it wasn’t enough. In fifth place, Nat had qualified for the finals.
The cheering for the finish was muted, as if the spectators, who had exhausted themselves over Pikki, had nothing left to give the victors.
The second heat would start in two hours– time enough to re-tamp the track, reset the illusions, and repair any damage done by the first heat of racers. Felix and Asta made their way down to the elevators among the masses of somber fans. Their footsteps rang on the aluminum steps, hollow and sharp. The pain of Asta’s bruises zinged at each small descent.
Asta reached out and caught Felix’s shoulder as he trudged in front of her, and he turned back, waiting for her to speak.
‘I’m trying to get free, Felix,’ Asta said. ‘I promise you I’m doing the best I can, but—’
Felix stepped back up to the stair that she was on. Her heart pounded to have him so close. There was a pull to him, like the pull of the open sky.
He reached out and put a hand on her neck, just under her jaw, and looked hard into her eyes.
‘I know you are.’ He took a long, slow breath, and she breathed with him. ‘I trust you.’
Then he turned and continued down the stairs, leaving her to follow, drifting, in his wake.
22
Carmine blasted the fire hedge with a burst of flame. The fire faltered in the force of the eruption as he leapt through. The icy chill of his body was almost painful against Asta’s legs. Her bent knees absorbed the impact of the landing, and she steered Carmine into a sharp turn to square the approach for the next series of fences. She was on her toes, balanced over his shoulders. She gave him his head for the jumps, and they hit them– one, two, three.
‘Good boy!’ Asta shouted. ‘That’s my boy. Come on, baby! Come on!’ She got low in the saddle and urged him forward as they raced for the chute, a narrow passage that steered the racers single file directly past the Needle and deposited them at the base of the mountain.
Essie and Felix were right behind them. Only one other team– Asta’s old friend Basma Bohra and her orange-speckled dragon, Stryke– was ahead of them. Asta knew they couldn’t beat Basma to the chute, but if they ran defensively, Carmine could keep ahead of Essie to hold their position. Behind Felix, a group of four teams were vying with each other, hungry for the lead. The air was filled with dust and the sound of charging, panting dragons. Over the din, riders called to their dragons and cursed at one another.
Asta looked back over her shoulder to see Carmine whip his feather-tipped tail into his sister’s face. Essie’s furious roar shook Asta’s bones. Asta kept her eye over her shoulder, watching to see what move Felix would make next. Once they got to the chute, he wouldn’t be able to pass, so he would be looking for any opening between here and there. As a rule, he never missed the chance to advance a position.
Passing now, Asta thought as Carmine veered around the plateau platform, would mean running Essie flat out. She steered Carmine close to the false ladder in their path, giving Felix the temptation he needed. Essie’s head appeared at Asta’s side. She pushed forward with long, rolling strides. Carmine was pulling to keep pace with his sister, but Asta held him back.
Soon, Felix and Asta were even with one another. His posture had a gloating air to it. Asta put herself into a crouch, as if she was running as hard as he was, but she let Felix pull away just before the chute.
Above them, on the VIP deck, the richest owners in the country were perched, watching the teams as they passed in the chute, scrutinizing their form and their physique. It was like being paraded in front of bidders at auction, Asta thought with distaste.
The walls of the chute were so close that Asta could have leaned over and touched one. She could hear the dragons’ wings scraping against them as they ran. Glittering images rose in the air beside her, but she was going too fast to process what they were supposed to be. At the end of the chute, the mountain stood before them like a wall. They would go airborne at the top, fly to the Needle, and circle a buoy on the far side of the oval before landing for the final pit stop.
Essie and Felix were out of the chute and on to the mountainside. Ahead of them, Basma and her dragon were already climbing the steepest part of the scramble. Asta stood in her stirrups as the incline increased, and she clung to the handles on Carmine’s harness to keep herself as flat as possible against his shoulders and neck. She didn’t want to throw off his balance.
The next team– a rider named Adam Soroko and his piebald green dragon called Magnolia– was out of the chute and already overtaking Asta and Carmine. The green dragon was unstoppable, leaping up the scramble like it was running on flat ground. Soon, Soroko was past Felix and Carmine too.
With Basma in his sights, Soroko made his move– leaping from one outcrop to the next– but Magnolia missed her foothold and dropped twenty feet, clipping Essie and Felix as she tumbled past. Essie fell after the green dragon, Felix clinging to her back. Asta watched helplessly, as it looked like Essie might roll. But the black dragon braced herself with her wings and tail and skidded to a stop, Felix still on her back.
Asta’s mind was filled with the gold dragon rushing at her and the bodies piled on the track. The pain which had been tamped down by adrenaline and painkillers squeezed at her body as terror grabbed at her heart. She pulled Carmine off to a side track. It was steeper here, but safer too. Carmine kept climbing, silver eyes locked straight ahead.
