the flood of spectators, Raia slipped behind the stands, toward the healer’s tent. She wore her old tunic, the one she’d run away in, in hopes it would keep the crowd from recognizing her as one of the finalists, and was able to reach the tent without anyone stopping her.
Tucked away, the healer’s tent was one of the few places within the racetrack grounds that qualified as quiet. There were no campsites nearby, no bleachers, no food stands. It was on the opposite side of the tracks as the holding area, yet close enough that emergencies could be funneled to it as quickly as possible.
Like Silar had been.
Raia gave her name to the gray-clad man at the door, as well as the name of the patient. He consulted his notes and waved her inside. She was grateful he didn’t ask about the upcoming championship race or wish her luck—it was the last thing she wanted to talk about right now.
The tent was divided into rooms, with tarps separating them, and she heard murmurs from behind the heavy fabric. Sometimes she caught glimpses of patients: one covered in bandages from their waist down, one with burns over half his face, one missing an arm. Raia had been so focused on her own races, she hadn’t realized how many riders got hurt each season. And these weren’t even all of them. Plenty had been hurt earlier, in the qualifiers. It also didn’t include the dead, like Fetran.
“Silar?” she called softly.
“Down here,” a boy’s voice called back. Jalimo stuck his head out from between tarps. “Hey, you should be preparing for your race.”
“Don’t stop her from being nice,” Silar scolded from inside the room.
Her voice sounded fine. Raia slowed, bracing herself for what she’d find on the other side of the tarp. Silar had been injured a few days ago. For her to still be in the healer’s tent meant that it hadn’t been a minor injury.
With Jalimo holding the tarp door open, Raia ducked inside.
Silar lay on a cot, propped up by pillows. “He does have a point. These other losers don’t have anything better to do, but you . . .” She pumped her fist into the air. “Go, champion-to-be!”
Beside her, seated on a stool, Algana said, “We’re planning on cheering for you. As soon as the doctors find her a chair she can travel in.”
Raia took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to ask how she was, what her prognosis was, and whether—
“Broken back,” Silar said lightly, as if she were reporting on the weather. “It’s permanent. I won’t race again.”
“Will you—”
“Or walk. It’s all connected, you see.”
“I’m so sorry.” If she had been paying more attention to the racers behind her . . . if she hadn’t been so focused on her own race . . . there might have been something she could have done. As it was, she hadn’t even known until it was all over. “I should have—”
“Not won? Don’t think that.” Silar struggled to sit up higher. Algana leaned over to help her, and Silar batted her away. “You didn’t cause this. I lost control of my kehok when some idiot lost control of his. It happens.” Her face twisted, belying her nonchalance, but she kept her voice even. “Your job now is to make sure it doesn’t happen to you.”
“She won’t lose control,” Algana said. “She’s got some kind of freakish connection with her monster.” She made wiggling motions with her fingers.
Raia didn’t deny it. Instead, a question burst out of her: “Was it worth it?” As soon as she asked it, she winced. She hadn’t meant it the way it sounded. “Sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“Obviously it wasn’t. For me. But you—”
Algana was studying Raia with narrowed eyes. She interrupted Silar. “You’re not here to check on Silar. Or not just to check on her. You could have done that after the race. What is it? Nerves? Second thoughts? Completely understandable, since this is the championship. Endless luxury and fame if you win, and all that.”
“What happened?” Silar asked.
“I’m fine. The lion’s fine.”
Silar pressed her lips into a line. “Raia. What. Happened.”
She couldn’t look at them as she said, “My parents tried to murder my kehok.” Fixing her eyes on a tray of bandages, she tried not to see the flames roaring through her memory.
“So?” Jalimo said. “You already knew they were shit people.”
And with that, he so easily dismissed the central pain of her entire life. She stared at him