trumpeted across the holding area, and Raia mounted her lion. She felt oddly calm. The chaos—the screams of the kehoks, the cheers from the spectators in the stands—was blending together into a blanket of sound that wrapped around her. She breathed in. And out.
Urging her kehok forward, she rode him to the starting stall.
Silar was two stalls down, on her silver dog kehok. As she eased her monster in, it bucked. Raia opened her mouth to cry out as Silar was thrown backward, caught herself on the wall of the stall, and steadied her beast.
The lion let out a growl. Leaning forward, Raia stroked his mane. “She’s got this. Concentrate on us. Silar will be fine.” She knew she was talking more to herself than to the kehok. Her friend seemed to have control of her kehok now.
“Ready!” the race official called.
Raia focused on the track beyond the starting gate. She breathed in, tasted the sand that already filled the air, the stench of the kehoks, the sweetness of the garlands of jasmine that decorated the spectator stands.
“Prepare!”
She didn’t look at the stands. She knew Trainer Verlas was there. Most likely Prince Dar. She didn’t want to know if her parents were there as well. Or Gette, watching and hoping she’d fail. Or hoping she’d win so he could beat her later, as promised.
“Race!”
The stall gates were flung open, and the kehoks surged forward.
Raia felt the wind hit her face. Sand flew into the air. Leaning forward onto the lion’s mane, she saw only the track in front of her. His paws ate into it.
He rammed his shoulder against a red lizard kehok, and the reptile snapped at him. Her lion dodged, claiming the inside line. He raced past a long-legged kehok with a rider who was whipping him nonstop. Ahead was Silar’s silver dog, slowing to take the turn.
Her kehok sped up. Pushing against the turn, they flew past Silar.
Behind her, Raia heard a commotion: kehok screams, shouts, but it faded into the blanket of sound. She heard only the lion’s paws on the sand, her breath heavy and fast, and the whistle of the wind. She felt as if she were flying across the desert, alone with her lion.
Ahead was the finish line, marked with black paint on the sand. Race officials flanked it. Beyond she saw the spectators, cheering and screaming, and she let the sight of them flow into her.
Faster, she thought.
And the lion ran faster.
He burst across the finish line. First. Definitively first. No technicality this time.
Raia pumped her fists into the air and turned as the race officials descended on her to chain her kehok. She expected to see Silar on her silver dog barreling across the finish line after her, in second, but instead she saw a crab kehok, a giraffe with a wolf’s head, a scaled rhino . . . “Silar. Where is she?” she asked the closest race official. “She rode a silver dog kehok.”
“Two racers are down,” the race official said. “Accident on the track. Congrats on your win.” He moved on to the next kehok.
Raia slid off the lion’s back as Trainer Verlas appeared, taking the lion’s chains. She was talking, but Raia didn’t hear. She walked toward the track, feeling numb. Her own heartbeat felt louder than the roars of the crowd. She should have asked how bad an accident. Broken bones. Just a fall.
Silar’s fine, she told herself. She has to be.
The medics jogged toward the finish line, carrying a stretcher between them, and Raia broke into a run. She stumbled on a divot in the torn-up track, but caught herself and ran to the side of the stretcher.
Silar lay on it, her face twisted in pain.
“You’re alive!” Raia said. She almost wept.
“Can’t feel my legs,” Silar whimpered. “Why can’t I feel my legs?”
“You’ll be all right,” Raia said, reaching for her hand. Their fingers touched, but the medics didn’t slow. They brushed past Raia, hurrying Silar to the healer’s tent.
Raia stood alone on the track as people swirled around her, congratulating her, urging her to move along and make way for the next race. She looked up at the stands and saw Prince Dar looking down at her, with a beautiful silk-clad woman beside him. He raised his hand at Raia and smiled in approval.
Turning away, Raia wanted to vomit.
Chapter 23
At dawn, before the next day’s races began, Trainer Limra, a squat woman who sweated profusely, approached Tamra to apologize and rant about the unsafe locks—she