swore she’d triple-checked the shackles on her kehoks the prior day.
“Luckily, all the kehoks survived,” Tamra said, even though it hadn’t been luck. She eyed the other trainer, watching her reaction. By now, the stable guards would have finished their reports to the committee, and a formal investigation would have been opened. If she were being uncharitable, Tamra would have suspected that Limra was apologizing because an investigation had been opened. “Accidents happen.”
“Yes, they do!” Limra said enthusiastically.
I am uncharitable. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to prep my rider for today’s races.”
“Of course,” Limra said, heaving a sigh of relief. She’d probably expected Tamra to rage at her like a lot of trainers would have, but Tamra had no interest in expending the energy. Whether it truly had been an accident, the black lion was safe now. Another night had come and gone without any problems, and Tamra had even allowed herself to catch some sleep. Then Limra added, “I knew you would understand, after what happened at last year’s finals.”
Tamra bristled. “Oh? Have we met before?”
“Our riders raced together last year. As you said, accidents happen.” She then hurried off toward the stable.
Watching her waddle away, Tamra swore under her breath. As if we didn’t have enough problems. She would bet large sums of gold that Limra’s rider had died in that race, at the teeth of Tamra’s kehok.
At least the racing commission would see to it that Trainer Limra wouldn’t get another chance to sabotage any more stalls. Whether she was found guilty or not, she’d be watched closely for the rest of the season.
And I’ll be watching too.
Because Trainer Limra might not be the only one with a grievance.
Not wanting to worry her, Tamra didn’t say a word about it to Raia. She helped her dress in her riding uniform, helped her secure the kehok saddle, and then kept an eye on her as she guided the lion to the starting gate.
Raia was unusually quiet too. But she didn’t seem distracted. In fact, the opposite. She seemed determined.
“Everything all right?” Tamra asked.
“Should it be?”
Tamra considered that for a moment. “No. But are you ready to race?”
“Yes.”
She said it with such surety that Tamra didn’t doubt her.
Checking over the saddle one last time, Tamra turned away. Raia’s voice stopped her: “Silar might not ever walk again.”
Tamra ran through names in her head, trying to connect the name Silar to a face. Ah, yes, one of the other riders from their training ground—one of the three who always palled around together and seemed to have adopted Raia into their little group.
“I’m running for her,” Raia said. “Because she won’t ever have this again.”
Tamra considered and discarded a dozen different responses—platitudes about her friend, wisdom about the arbitrary whims of fate, advice on how to work through the pain Raia felt. Instead, she simply said, “Good. Run for Silar. And for all of us.”
The race official called, “Riders up!”
Joining the others, Raia and the lion proceeded to the starting gates.
Tamra felt the stares as she climbed into the viewing box beside the racetrack. Word of yesterday’s kehok “incident” in the stable had spread, combined with reports of the lion’s win in their first major race, making her and Raia a significant point of interest. Tamra wondered if any of the spectators suspected the incident wasn’t an accident—she doubted it. From the snippets of conversation she overheard, most were discussing the fact that she’d controlled three kehoks and stopped it from becoming a catastrophe. She didn’t linger long enough to be able to tell if they were impressed or appalled, and she didn’t care which it was, so long as there weren’t any more attacks on her racer. What was more important, and satisfying, was that the odds on Raia and the lion had improved.
As the racers positioned themselves in their starting gates, Lady Evara sidled through the crowd to join Tamra. “I heard you had some excitement yesterday, in addition to our protégé’s first major win.”
Tamra didn’t take her eyes off Raia. “I need you to ask Prince Dar for guards for the kehok. Trustworthy ones. The racing commission won’t supply extra guards for privately held kehoks, and I won’t hold the lion in the public stalls.”
“Sounds like a necessary expense,” Lady Evara said. “Consider it done.”
“Good,” Tamra grunted.
On the track, the race officials shouted:
“Ready!”
“Prepare!”
“Race!”
The kehoks shot out of the starting gate.
Raia and the lion burst into the lead.
She ran with a fire and passion that was beyond anything