“All right, move it out!”
As Trainer Verlas barked at the various servants and guards, Raia scurried to check that everything was secure inside the cage: the kehok’s shackles were clamped to the iron bars, they had a supply of food loaded into the cart, her riding clothes were packed into a trunk. At last, she climbed into the cage with her kehok.
This is it, Raia thought.
Her last chance to qualify for the major races.
If they’d stayed in Peron, they’d have traveled to whatever race was nearest—qualifying races were held on tracks up and down the Aur River. But since they were already in the Heart of Becar, she’d be racing her second (and last) qualifier on the same track that would be used for the finals, only a few miles from the palace, beyond the edge of the city.
On the journey to the royal stables, the black lion had been hidden beneath a shroud of red velvet, but now he traveled exposed, laden with chains within an iron cage. Riding with him, Raia felt as uncomfortable as he was. She was wearing a royal uniform, at the insistence of Lady Evara, and she hated it. The gold embellishment around the collar pricked at her neck, and the red leather felt stiff. She wished she could wear her old practice clothes. She also wished they could travel under the velvet. She felt as if she was in a parade.
She sort of was.
All the streets on the way out of the city were lined with people, cheering, heckling, and just plain gawking at the emperor-to-be’s entry in the Becaran Races.
“Everyone seems to have an opinion on whether or not we should win,” Raia said to the lion. “Of course, Trainer Verlas would say all that matters is our opinion on that.” She tried a tentative smile and wave at the crowd, and was rewarded with raucous cheers and ribbons tossed into the air.
Riding in her chariot alongside the cage, Lady Evara called, “Isn’t this fantastic? You’re famous!” She blew kisses at the crowd and then urged the horses pulling her chariot to trot faster.
It all made Raia feel sick to her stomach. She’d heard that the emperor-to-be himself would be at the race, even though it was only a qualifier. Given that, attendance was expected to exceed that of all prior years—or so Lady Evara had gleefully reported. Raia had already been invited to a slew of parties in the houses of the wealthy.
Thankfully, Trainer Verlas had declined on her behalf, saying she had to focus. I think if I attended a party, I’d vomit on the host’s shoes.
She wished they’d just arrive already.
It got worse the closer they drew to the racetrack.
Just beyond the city, the racetrack was marked with a line of flags. Raia tried to focus on them instead of the thickening crowd. She tried to steady her breathing. She felt as jumpy as a frog startled by every ripple in the water. She didn’t know how she was going to shut out all the eyes that would be on her—especially knowing that Prince Dar would be one of the ones watching.
She felt even worse when she saw the crowd by the archway that marked the entrance to the racing grounds. Clustered so densely that she couldn’t even see the sand, they were cheering for all the racers arriving.
“Splendid,” Lady Evara said. “A proper welcome. You don’t look pleased.”
“I just want to race.”
Raising her voice, Lady Evara called to the crowd, “Hear that? She just wants to race! What do you think of that?”
Everyone cheered.
Lady Evara beamed at her. “Beautifully done.”
Trainer Verlas called from the front of the cart. “Let her be, Lady Evara. Not everyone loves a circus. Raia, you’re not their performing monkey. You can play along or ignore them. Your choice.”
Trying to block out the crowd, Raia endured the rest of the journey out to the riders’ camp, a quarter mile from the racetrack. Spectators weren’t allowed in the camp, but that didn’t make the atmosphere any calmer—riders, trainers, and track officials swarmed everywhere.
Climbing out of the cart, she looked around. The camp here was much fancier than at the track near Peron: a tent for each rider and trainer, with water pumped from the river for bathing, and an enormous, magnificent stable for the kehoks, with a view of the palace. Trainer Verlas had said they’d be here only for the day, but once the qualification races finished up and all the riders and racers converged on the capital, they would move back to this camp for the remaining races—the main races were scheduled in such quick succession that it wouldn’t make sense to travel back and forth to the royal stables. Guess I’d better get used to it, Raia thought.
She didn’t think that was going to happen anytime soon.
How did I end up here?
She thought of Celin and her parents, and told herself this was better than the alternative. No question there. She wondered where her parents had gone after she’d left them at the training grounds and hoped they hadn’t blamed Silar, Jalimo, and Algana.
She snapped out of these thoughts when Trainer Verlas started barking instructions at her. Raia changed into her riding gear surrounded by dozens of other riders doing the same. “You’re slated for heat six,” Trainer Verlas told her. “Heat three is currently on the track. Keep the kehok’s chains on.”
As soon as she was dressed, she led the kehok to the holding area. Gripping his chains, she tried to focus on keeping him calm. Around her, other riders and their trainers were coaxing their monsters into position behind the stands.
A kehok built like a bear lunged at another that looked like a giant river crab. The crab snapped its claws at the bear’s neck, and their riders and trainers jumped forward, shouting at the racers and hitting them with spiked clubs until they retreated. Beside her, the lion growled, a low rumble that Raia felt travel through the chains and into her arms.
Look at me, she ordered him. Just at me.
The lion swung his head toward her, and she stared into his golden eyes.
From the spectator stands, Raia heard screams. She blocked them out, keeping her focus just on her kehok. She stroked his metal cheek. They had to win this race. So much was depending on it, and she’d yet to prove they could win any race.
Behind her, she heard someone say, “Oh, sweet Lady, is he dead?”
“By the River, I knew he wasn’t—” Trainer Verlas gripped the lion’s chains. “Keep your kehok steady. And don’t look.”
Raia didn’t mean to look, but the rider next to her screamed as his kehok reared onto its hind legs and clawed at the air. The rider dangled from the chain for a half second, until his trainer and two others leaped onto its waist and pulled the beast down by force of muscle and will.
Beyond them, Raia saw the body being carried on a stretcher. The boy’s head was turned to the side, and she caught a glimpse of his empty eyes as the race officials passed by the holding area. Below his chin was a mangled mass of red that her brain couldn’t interpret.
“I told you not to look,” Trainer Verlas snapped.
“Did I know him?”
“Fetran. You raced your first qualifier against him.” Trainer Verlas scowled at the black lion, though he hadn’t moved beyond watching the procession of officials. “He used to be my student. Could’ve told them he wasn’t ready for this. In fact, I did.”
Raia wasn’t sure she was ready for this anymore either. A boy had died! Just a few minutes ago, on the track she was about to race on.
“Stop it,” Trainer Verlas said. “You aren’t like him. Don’t let it get in your head.”
A voice boomed across the holding area. “Riders up!”
Raia tried to steady her breathing once more as she led the lion across the camp and to the racetrack. Beside her, he growled, resisting each step, and she was having trouble focusing with all the shouts and cheers around her. Somehow, she made it, and loaded him into the stall at the start of the race.
“You’re faster than any of them,” Trainer Verlas told her. “All you have to do is run.”
And win, Raia thought. Glancing up at the stands, she saw the royal booth. Unmistakable, it was raised on pillars and draped in flags. Prince Dar was already there, on a black throne, flanked by nobles and guards. She couldn’t see his face from here, which made it worse. He looked more like a statue than a person. She wondered if he’d seen the death in the previous race. He must have. She imagined what he’d say if it had been her with her throat torn—
“Raia? Raia.” Trainer Verlas clasped her arm. “You can do this. Just run.”
But Trainer Verlas was wrong. She couldn’t do this. She’d been fooling herself. How could she race with the emperor-to-be watching, knowing if she failed . . . She’d just seen how badly a rider could fail.
She wanted to ask Trainer Verlas how she had kept racing knowing what could happen. But there was no time—the trainers were all backing away, beyond the psychic shield so there would be no interference with the racers, and the cheers were growing so loud that Raia felt as if they were clogging her skull. Distantly, she heard the race announcer call, “Ready!”
She wasn’t! She needed a few more seconds to pull her focus into—
“Prepare!”
I can’t do this. It’s too much! She felt as if her skin were going to burst and all her fear would pour out of her like smoke, leaving her a shell of nothingness. Beneath her, the lion was growling, shifting his weight as if he wanted to batter the walls.
“Race!”
The stall gates were flung open, and her kehok surged forward with the others.
“Run!” she urged.
She tried to focus on the sand, but this time it felt off. She was too aware of the other racers, of the cheering in the stands. She couldn’t shed the feel of the emperor-to-be’s eyes on her back, judging her as she headed for the first turn.
She felt the lion pull back as they hit the turn, like they used to do. As they rounded the turn, several of the other kehoks jostled in front of them, and Raia and the lion slipped back in the pack.
We are faster than this, she thought.
As they ran toward the second turn, Raia felt something shift inside her. She suddenly stopped thinking about the crowd, the emperor-to-be, and why she had to win. She breathed in the scent of the track, the sweat, the stink of the kehoks. She felt the wind in her face, throwing sand in her face. It stung her eyes. She tasted it on her tongue.
“Own the turn,” she whispered.
Leaning forward, she urged him faster. His paws dug deeper and harder into the sand, and he ran lower. As they approached the turn, she felt herself straining for it, wanting it.
And she felt exactly what Trainer Verlas had been trying to tell her—they claimed the curve for their own, pushing off it like a swimmer in a pool and gaining speed. They shoved past the kehoks ahead of them until there was only one in front: a monster with a hawk’s head and a beetle’s body.
Raia fixed her eyes beyond the other kehok, focusing instead on the finish line.
Only the race. Only the moment. Only the finish line.
They ran, pulling ahead of the hawk-beetle, by one stride, then two. The cheers were like the wind in her ears. They flowed around her. All she felt was the rhythm of the lion’s stride. She raised her gaze up above the finish line, and she saw them: her parents, wedged between the other spectators. For the barest instant, her focus faltered.
The lion’s paws strained toward the finish line—and then, with an inhuman burst of speed, the hawk-beetle shot past her.
Raia and the lion crossed second.
Slowing, she felt as if the world were crashing down around her. She felt the sweat on her skin. Heard the cries of the crowd like a hammer. Leaning forward, she lay against the cold, smooth metal of the lion’s mane.
We lost.
Second.
Tamra breathed in, tasted the mix of sweat and kehok stench, and tried to wrap her mind around the standings that were posted on the flags raised above the tracks. We lost.
We can’t come back from this. Not if we want to be grand champion. After this, Raia and the lion would be placed in the minors, with no chance at running for the charm.
Lady Evara fluttered her fan. “What does this mean? How could this happen?”
“It happens,” Tamra said, keeping her voice steady. She could not let Raia see how bad this was. It would shake her confidence, and then . . . There was no “and then.” This was it.
“Is it over? Is that it?” Lady Evara asked. “We lost, and that’s it? There should be a rematch! Or what if she wins another race? Can she run in another qualifying race? We can bribe someone to erase her first race results, say that this was her first . . .”
Maybe I was wrong, Tamra thought. Maybe we don’t have what it takes. Maybe she should have let Gette race the black lion, fled back to Peron, and . . . She didn’t know what. There wasn’t a backup plan.
She twisted to look up at the royal box, but Prince Dar was too far away for her to see his face. She had no doubt that he’d schooled it into an empty expression—as royal-born, he’d know how to hide his emotions.
She wondered if Augur Yorbel had watched the race and what he was feeling.
“She ran well,” Tamra said. A slow start, but she’d compensated for it, taking the turns exactly as they’d practiced. She’d had enough speed in the final leg, but then that other kehok, the one shaped like a beetle with a hawk’s head . . . It had spurted forward as if burned. She didn’t think the creature had had that much left in reserve. Certainly its rider hadn’t looked like the kind who held back enough for a last push—he’d stormed full-speed out of his gate. She frowned, her face a mask of concentration as she replayed the race in her mind.
“It shouldn’t have happened that way.”
The more she thought about it, the more convinced she was. That kind of rider with that kind of technique . . . he shouldn’t have had the strength for such a final burst of speed.
She noticed a commotion near the finish line. Judges were on the sands, arguing with one another. The crowd near them was beginning to push and shove.
“Ooh, a scandal!” Lady Evara said, delight in her voice.
A second later, Tamra realized what she meant: a new flag was being raised and the old results flag was being lowered. Raia and the lion were first.
“The hawk-beetle kehok cheated,” Tamra guessed. She’d been right—the rider hadn’t given his racer the extra push. The extra push must have come from his trainer, who, Tamra saw, was down on the sands, near the finish line, arguing with the judges.
He must have found a way to position himself within the psychic shield. Tamra felt as if she could breathe again. Her knees felt wobbly as she plopped down onto a bench.
“That was so exciting!” Lady Evara said.
“One word for it,” Tamra agreed. Lucky was a better word.
Standing, she looked for her rider. Raia had already disappeared into the stable. Tamra wasn’t sure she’d seen the change in results.
“I feel breathless,” Lady Evara said. “What happens next?”
“We go back to the royal stable, and prepare for the next race.” The first major race. If they could win enough major races, then they’d race in the final championship race. If . . . If . . . If . . .
This was too close. We can’t let it get this close again.
They’d had one lucky break. She was certain the River wouldn’t grant them another.
It hadn’t granted that foolish child Fetran another.
Lady Evara was eyeing her with a piercing look, and Tamra was reminded yet again that she was much more calculating than she acted. “Do you have ideas for ensuring the next race is less exciting? We have yet to have a solid win. It would be lovely to feel confident about our chances as we head into the majors. There are still a lot of races between us and the final championship race, and I don’t think my nerves can take this much excitement.”
Tamra wasn’t concerned about Lady Evara’s nerves, though—she was worried about what today’s race was going to do for Raia’s confidence. The longer she went thinking she’d lost, the more damage would be done. “I’ll work with her.”
“We need strategies, dear Tamra,” Lady Evara said. Her tone was light as always, but her expression was dead serious. “There are trainers, as we’ve seen today, who would do anything to win.”
Narrowing her eyes, she studied Lady Evara, hoping she wasn’t saying what Tamra thought she was saying, and especially hoping she wasn’t saying it here in the midst of the stands, where anyone could overhear. “Those who attempt to cheat at the races are disqualified.”
“Only if they’re caught.” Then, a second later, Lady Evara tilted back her head and let loose as cascading laugh, as if to say of course she was only joking.
Tamra knew she should laugh along, but the best she could manage was a glare. “Don’t,” she warned. “We will win this, fair and square.”
“Very well,” Lady Evara agreed. “But remember: all of Becar needs you to succeed.”
“Believe me, I know.” Tamra pushed her way through the crowd, ignoring all the other trainers and people congratulating her, and tried to get Lady Evara’s words out of her head. That kind of pressure could break a rider—or a trainer.
Raia didn’t crumble until she was safely alone, back in the royal stable, away from all the eyes and words. If one more person said congratulations and talked about how lucky she was that the cheater had been caught . . .
I wasn’t lucky. I lost.
Her concentration had been poor at the start of the race and had slipped at the end. She’d deserved to lose. It was only because her racer was as fast as he was that they’d come in second.
Sliding down onto the floor, her back against the wall, Raia sat outside the lion’s stall. She listened to him chew his food and wondered what he thought about the race. She didn’t know how much he understood about why they had to win. He knew that winning meant freedom, she was certain of that.
She heard the stable door creak open and was certain it was Trainer Verlas, returning for another pep talk—she’d been the one to break the good news to Raia, followed by a dissection of Raia’s performance and a reminder that she needed to focus on the race, not be distracted by all the pressure, et cetera. Raia knew Trainer Verlas was right, and she knew she should stand and look ready to face the next challenge, but it was hard to summon up the energy. “Just resting a minute,” Raia said. “It’s been a long day.”
“Indeed it has.”
Raia knew that voice. She scrambled to her feet. Nearly falling over, she bowed. “Your Excellence! I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to come here!”
The emperor-to-be winced. He was dressed in a royal guard’s uniform, instead of silks with gold necklaces. “You aren’t supposed to recognize me. I’m here incognito.”
“Oh!” She bowed again. “I’m so sorry! Forgive me, Your . . .” She trailed off. She’d had plenty of etiquette training, between her parents’ insistence on proper manners and the augur’s emphasis on control at all times. None of it covered this, though!
He was frowning at his uniform. “This should have worked. It fooled everyone I passed, and some of those people have known me since I was teething. Most people don’t even know what I look like—they see the silks and stop there.”
“It was your voice,” Raia said.
“Have we met?” he asked.
“Um . . .” She wasn’t sure if it was better to explain that she recognized his voice because she’d eavesdropped on him. “You sound royal?”
He sighed. “It’s all the lessons. My tutors were firm about proper diction.”
“They’d be proud,” Raia said. “You pronounce things perfectly.” She felt her cheeks heat. Why did I say that? It was an inane thing to say. Complimenting his pronunciation? “I, um, assume you’re here to see . . . him.” She almost said “your brother” but stopped herself in time. She began to scoot sideways, like a scuttling crab, toward the door.
“You are Raia, his rider, aren’t you? I came to talk with you.”
That’s terrifying, she thought. She wished she could say no and flee, leaving him to Trainer Verlas. She had no idea what to say to royalty! Lowering her head, she said, “I’m honored, Your Excellence.” It came out okay, which was a relief.
“Augur Yorbel has told me you are aware of the situation.”
“Yes.” She wasn’t sure if she should say more. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He sighed heavily.
Peeking up, she saw he’d drifted to the side of the stall and was looking at the black lion. The lion didn’t stop eating. “I will work harder and win the next race,” Raia said.
“I came to tell you I thought you ran brilliantly,” Prince Dar said. “After seeing you race, I believe you can do this.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Did Trainer Verlas tell you to cheer me up?”
He looked startled. “It was my own idea to come.”
“Sorry.” Of course her trainer couldn’t order an emperor, or even an emperor-to-be, to do anything. She felt like slinking inside one of the stalls and hiding until he left, except there was no way to do that when he was staring right at her. And he was staring, as if he were studying every aspect of her soul. She wanted to squirm but held herself still.
“You remind me of me,” he said suddenly.
She thought that was unlikely.
“Both of us are in over our heads.”
That could be true, she thought. She’d never thought she’d have anything in common with an emperor. In fact, she hadn’t thought much about royalty before at all.
“I was never supposed to be emperor,” he said. “I was the spare. Zarin was supposed to rule for decades. He would have married in a few years, had heirs, and one of them would be stuck with being emperor or empress.”
She thought about saying sorry again, but he didn’t seem to need a response. He was staring at the kehok.
“I don’t understand how this could have happened. He shouldn’t have died. And he shouldn’t have been reborn as . . . this. He was a good man. A great brother. All I want to do is set things right, and if you can win the races . . . It won’t fix everything. But it will help.” He was talking openly about the secret, but then he must have felt secure that they were alone in the stable.
Raia dared move a little closer, to see into the stall beside him. “What was he like?” She tried to imagine her lion as a human. She thought he’d be determined. And strong. And angry.
“He protected me,” he said simply. “The court is a piranha tank, and he let me stay out of it. Whenever people tried to draw me into their political machinations—dropping hints that they hoped I’d pass to him, feigning friendship in hopes of creating an alliance—he’d find a reason to send me elsewhere, a task that needed doing, a site that he needed me to visit. Every time he could, he made time for me. He used to love stargazing—you wouldn’t think that of an emperor, but he’d memorized all the constellations by the time he was ten, and he liked to climb up onto the dome above his bedroom and look at the stars. I never had any interest in them, but I’d climb up there with him, and he’d spend hours trying to teach me which star was which. I used to pretend I was incapable of remembering any of them, just to mess with him. Just so he’d spend more time with me, pointing out the stars. Does that sound like the kind of man who deserved to be punished like this?”
She knew from her augur lessons that the universe was never wrong. But she wasn’t going to say that to him. “We’ll win, and he’ll have a second chance. The charm will set things right.”
A thought occurred to her.
“I . . . only had a few years of augur training, so there’s probably a very good reason why this couldn’t be possible, but . . .” Raia licked her lips, unsure if she should say her thought out loud. She’d already started though, and the emperor-to-be was staring at her. “If there’s a charm that can make a kehok be reborn as a human . . . is there any chance there could also be a charm that could make a human be reborn as a kehok? I mean, a human who didn’t deserve it?”
Prince Dar stared at her. “I don’t know. I never considered . . . But it does stand to reason. Yes, I suppose it could be possible. . . .” A smile lit his face. “I think I want to kiss you.”
Startled, she took a step back.
“Oh! No, I didn’t mean . . . Don’t be alarmed. My heart belongs to another.”
Raia felt herself blush. She hadn’t really thought . . . Well, she had thought for a moment, but of course it was absurd. He was a prince, and she was only a rider.
Only a rider. The thought nearly made her smile. For the first time, she hadn’t thought of herself as a failed augur, a disappointment to her parents, or a runaway.
“I need to talk to Augur Yorbel. Yes, he’d know if that was possible.” He didn’t try to kiss her, but he did wrap her in a hug. He smelled of sandalwood and lavender. She hadn’t been hugged often and never by an emperor-to-be. It was . . . nice. Releasing her, he beamed at her, and the joy in his face was like dawn after a cold, dark night. “You’ve saved me today, and you will save my brother in the races.”
He then sprinted out of the stable.
Raia stood without moving. The hint of sandalwood and lavender still hung in the air. She breathed it in, and felt better than she had in days.
Dar climbed onto the gold dome above his bedroom—a thing he hadn’t done since Zarin had died. He remembered which tiles were loose and where to lie with the best view of Zarin’s favorite constellations: the Jackal, the Wheel, and the Lady with the Sword.
“Lady, tell me: Am I clinging to false hope?”
In the hour since he had sneaked down to the stable, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the words of the kehok rider. A charm to turn a human to a kehok. He’d never heard of such a thing, and he’d studied plenty of old legends. But if it was possible . . .
He heard a clattering from below him and didn’t move.
Puffing, Yorbel hauled himself onto the roof. He hiked up his robes with one hand, and he climbed painstakingly slowly with the other.
“It’s not that steep,” Dar said.
“Apparently I’m that old,” Yorbel said.
Dar snorted.
“May I ask why you requested my presence here, Your Excellence?” Yorbel sounded a touch exasperated, which was amusing since the augur was normally unflappably calm. He lowered himself to sit beside Dar.
“Spies can’t hear us. Plus, great view.” Leaning back, Dar pointed at a trio of stars. “Look, the ears and nose of the Jackal. Always rises in flood season.”
“Very nice.”
“You’re in a foul mood tonight, Yorbel.”
“And you’re in a surprisingly good mood. Your racer nearly lost.”
True. “But she didn’t.” He’d seen the way she’d pulled herself out of a slow start. He’d also seen the hiccup near the end, but the fact that she could overcome a bad beginning spoke well. A lot of riders would have folded after that. And the way she attacked those turns!
“Spared by a technicality.”
“You watched the race?” He’d thought that Yorbel had washed his hands of the whole business after he reported on the poor performance of the supposedly top-notch trainer and rider that Dar had called in. He’d delivered that news with the air of a man who had had enough, and Dar had been content to let him return to his cocoon of a temple.
“From a distance.”
“You should have joined us. Lady Nori would have been happy to see you.” He’d been lucky enough to have her with him in the stands, even if he hadn’t been able to explain to her why he’d cared about winning so badly.
Yorbel was silent for a moment. “I hadn’t planned to watch it at all. But I couldn’t stop thinking about her. It. The race, I mean. Sneaked out of the temple like I was a recalcitrant schoolboy.”
Dar laughed at that image. It felt good to laugh. He hadn’t done enough of that lately. He wondered who the “her” was. The rider? That was the “her” he couldn’t get out of his head. She’d given him hope, in a way no one else had. He thought hope had died with his brother. “Yorbel . . . the victory charm used on the winning kehok. How was it created?”
“Only the high augurs are privy to that secret,” Yorbel said, “if it hasn’t been lost to history. The victory charm was made many centuries ago.”
“And there is only the one? Because it was such a difficult process?”
“Very arduous. The sacrifices to the souls of the augurs who created it . . . As students, we used to speculate on it, and we were always told that the truth of it defied imagining.”
“Do you know of any other charms that we ever made? To influence how a soul is reborn?” Even though he knew the dome was safe, Dar kept his voice low.
“You are talking sacrilege, Dar,” Yorbel said, equally quietly. “The fate of a soul is sacred. To interfere . . . Hush, and never speak of this again.”
“I don’t wish to do it,” Dar said. “I want to know if it could have been done. If it has been done. To Zarin.”
“Impossible.”
“Why? The victory charm exists.”
“As I told you, the cost—”
“Emperors have enemies,” Dar said. “Becar itself has enemies. Some who might be willing to pay any price to see the empire fall, to see my family fail.” He thought of Ranir to the south, who had been nipping at their borders for centuries, and of Khemia to the west, who had had their own political unrest recently. Any of their neighbors would be happy to consume the Becaran Empire, if it were to weaken. Plus there were closer-to-home enemies, rival houses who would sacrifice much to see their own lineage on the throne. He could conceive of at least a half-dozen suspects without even trying, and there were undoubtedly more enemies he was unaware of. It was, frankly, exhausting.
“No augur would consent to make such a charm,” Yorbel said. “It wouldn’t matter what someone was willing to pay. We know the value of our souls.”
“But it could be done,” Dar said. “The knowledge exists.”
“I don’t know if it does or doesn’t.”
“But it might,” he pressed.
Yorbel looked as if he’d tasted a poisonous leaf. “It might. I could make inquiries, discreetly, of course. There is one member of the council who is like a sister to me, High Augur Gissa. I have known her for many years and would trust her with my life.”
“Would you trust her with mine?” Dar asked.
He expected Yorbel to say yes, of course. But the augur was silent, which told Dar all he needed to know. Whoever this Gissa was, her loyalty didn’t extend beyond the temple, perhaps not even beyond her friends.
“If anyone were to know that I, or anyone close to me, was interested in a charm like this, they might suspect the truth about Zarin’s vessel,” Dar said. “And if the truth comes out . . . No. Winning the victory charm is still the best plan. It’s enough for me to know that it’s possible for such a charm to exist, for Zarin to still have been the man I thought he was.” That was a very comforting thought.
“Then yes—I believe it is possible,” Yorbel said in his always-reassuring voice; then he hesitated. “But if it is and you are correct . . . then it means your brother had a very powerful enemy.”
Which means that I do too, Dar thought.
And that was a much less comforting thought.
After receiving a summons from the palace, Lady Evara chose her hat with care: not the hat with the triple-masted ship, not the hat with the live hibiscus growing from the rim, not the hat with a cradle for her bowl of koi fish, but yes to the hat with the diamond the size of her fist.
She used to think of such hats as fashion, but now she saw them as her disguise.
A hat like this said: I have wealth. I am one of you. I belong.
And it was a lie.
She’d spent the last of her gold ensuring no one suspected she was a fraud.
She’d hit on the plan of owning a grand champion kehok when she first discovered her inheritance was . . . inaccessible. Her parents, before their deaths, had written a quaint little clause into their will. In order to inherit their wealth, their daughter had to be “worthy.” In other words, an augur had to read her soul and determine her soul was unblemished by human faults.
Even after death, they wanted to make sure she felt their disapproval.
She’d spent the first six months trying to make herself good enough, but the standard they’d set was impossibly high. Her soul was, like most, blemished. Her parents’ had been too, of course, but that didn’t matter for the legality of the will. So Lady Evara was stuck, unable to access the fortune that should have been hers and unwilling to tell anyone why she couldn’t access that fortune without suffering censure and ostracization.
Ever since their deaths, she’d been pretending she was good enough to live in her home, to wear her silk clothes, to call herself “Lady Evara.” Meanwhile, her funds had been dwindling.
Along came Trainer Tamra Verlas, and Lady Evara had been certain she had a winner, a way to wealth that didn’t rely on her parents’ whims and an augur’s judgment. When that went up in flames, Lady Evara was able to look both eccentric and generous by spending a minimal amount to support her—all the while hoping Tamra would become desperate enough to do something mad and crazy and wonderful, like train a needy rider and a barely controlled kehok, which was exactly what had happened.
She had to admit she hadn’t predicted the latest development.
But it was all to the good, at least if she could keep it from falling to pieces. If she could be seen as aiding Tamra and the rider girl, and if this emperor-to-be was in fact legitimized, the reward could be more than she’d dreamed. As a bonus, she’d also be helping a single mother and an unloved runaway, which was a delicious rebuttal to her late parents’ belief that she wasn’t a worthy person.
It was a positive sign that she’d been summoned to speak with Prince Dar. She hoped the diamond hat would project the right image—that he needed her more than she needed him, which was abundantly not true. She had spent the last of her gold on the three servants who had traveled to the Heart of Becar with her. Once they’d reached the capital, she’d quietly and discreetly let them go after only a day, with promises of good references to ensure their silence on her financial situation—because, even though they didn’t know the exact cause of her ruin, they did know she couldn’t have kept them on. So far, no one had noticed. But that wouldn’t last forever.
Checking the mirror one final time, Lady Evara allowed herself to be led into the palace. Only years of practice enabled her to avoid gawking at the wonders inside:
A waterfall that cascaded down a fifty-foot copper wall.
Pillars intricately carved to look as if they were lace.
Statues so lifelike they were indistinguishable from the courtiers who milled among them. And courtiers who were themselves works of art, their faces painted to resemble animals and their clothes merely a display case for elaborate jewel-encrusted necklaces, bracelets, and anklets. She felt positively drab beside them, and Lady Evara never felt drab.
By the time she reached the emperor-to-be’s sitting room, she wished she had chosen to wear all her hats at once. That would have made an impression, though perhaps not the one she wanted to make.
Do not let them intimidate you, she told herself firmly. You have value.
She didn’t believe that, of course, not when evidence said otherwise. But it helped to think it.
The guards announced her, and she swept inside. “Your Excellence—” she began.
Lounging on his throne, the emperor-to-be held up one hand. He addressed a ragtag collection of musicians who looked as though they’d been scooped up off the street. A few were drummers, with homemade-looking drums made from spare pots, and the rest were carrying various horns. “I’m looking for musicians who can rally the people in celebration. Give me your most rousing music!”
As the musicians launched into the worst cacophony she’d ever heard, the emperor-to-be beamed wider and wider. He gestured for Lady Evara to join him.
She longed to jam her fingers in her ear, but she settled for wincing every time one of the horn musicians squeaked a note that should have been impossible for the human ear to hear. The emperor-to-be beckoned her closer.
“What do you think of the music?” he shouted.
“It’s very . . . enthusiastic,” she shouted back.
He beckoned her closer, and she climbed up onto the dais so she was standing in front of the emperor-to-be. She immediately knelt so she couldn’t tower over him—it was the obvious response to such an awkward situation.
He leaned closer. She expected him to comment again on the music, but instead he said, “I have an enemy, and I believe it may be someone in the palace, specifically an aristocrat or diplomat with access to a deep treasury, which unfortunately does not narrow the list of suspects as much as I would like. I need someone with no current alliances to anyone in the Heart of Becar to lure my enemy into revealing him- or herself, and I believe you are the perfect person for that job.”
She blinked at him, but she had not survived as long as she had, fooling the rest of the aristocracy into believing she still belonged with them, without learning how to react quickly. “I am your loyal subject.”
“Excellent. As my adviser to my new racing team, I will require you to report to me frequently on their progress. See to it that you are seen coming and going by as many as possible. If my enemy has any brains at all, they’ll try to use you. I want you to report any attempts to bribe or subvert.”
“You want me to be your spy.” This was a delightful turn of events. A chance to help the emperor-to-be, to be useful to the empire itself. Her parents certainly never expected her to have an opportunity like this. “Out of curiosity, what makes you think I can be trusted?”
“Because you have already proven I can trust you,” he said simply.
Oh, of course, she thought. She had been keeping the secret of the late emperor’s vessel. She hadn’t thought of that as a show of loyalty to the emperor-to-be as much as a necessity to avoid catastrophe, but she supposed it could work as both. “I will do my best, Your Excellence.”
“My coffers will be open to you, as necessary.”
Well, that was excellent news. She wondered what qualified as “necessary.”
As the horrendous horn music began to die down, the emperor-to-be abruptly shifted the conversation. “What kind of gift do you think would please my kehok rider? I wish to show both my thanks and encouragement as she prepares for the next races.”
Lady Evara realized the subject change was due to the fact they could be overheard as the music lessened, but he still sounded genuine. “I believe she would like a gift that expresses your belief in her ability to win. A small token. Anything large, and she would feel it as additional pressure.”
“Good advice. A pin perhaps, that she can wear on her riding armor?”
“A perfect idea.” A pin would show everyone that Raia had the emperor-to-be’s confidence, without seeming like a courtship gift. Unless it was a courtship gift? She eyed the emperor-to-be and then dismissed the thought. She knew the court rumors about him and Lady Nori. Everyone expected him to propose once he was crowned. “Would Your Excellence like me to assist in choosing one?”
“Indeed, I would be grateful.” He raised his voice to a guard behind her. “Could you please escort Lady Evara to the royal jeweler? She will arrange a commission for my rider, on my behalf.”
Very pleased with this interesting opportunity, Lady Evara bowed again to the emperor-to-be and followed the palace guard, making sure to smile at as many aristocrats as she could as she flounced by. Playing spy is going to be fun.
And lucrative.
And even better, it was a lovely chance to prove her family wrong. She belonged among the jewels of the empire, and no one was going to take this life from her—even, or especially, the dead.