can become a rider. And what was also said: But only those who don’t fear death dare try.
Raia did fear death, of course.
I just fear other things more.
She heard the trainer say to the kehok, “Your need to kill me is not greater than my need to use you.” It wasn’t said as a threat—Raia knew very well what those sounded like—and it wasn’t a boast either. Trainer Verlas spoke as if she were stating a fact.
And Raia knew what she had to do.
I have to prove my need.
Taking a deep breath, she slunk out of her hiding place. No one noticed her. No one even glanced at her. She crossed the stream of people flowing in both directions past the cages. Her legs shook as if they were made of custard, but she didn’t stop. She walked past the seller and Trainer Verlas. She kept her eyes fixed on the golden eyes of the black lion—the one everyone was calling the killer kehok.
He watched her like a cat watches his prey.
Alert. Amused. Hungry.
She felt her heart thump faster and harder, as if it wanted to burst out of her rib cage. It was beating so hard it nearly hurt. Her palms were sweating, and she knew she must look as terrified as she felt.
But it didn’t matter what she felt. Because she had to do this. It was her best chance at freedom from her family and from a life she didn’t want. And she wasn’t going to let this opportunity slip away, no matter how scared she felt, no matter how bad an idea it was. Because it was her only idea.
Raia halted in front of the cage. Behind her, she dimly heard the seller barking at her to get back, it wasn’t safe. She ignored him. She ignored all the buzzing and chatter, the cries and the thumps and the screams from the other cages. She focused only on the kehok.
“You won’t kill me,” she said softly, “because you need me as much as I need you.”
She expected him to try to maul her. She was tense, ready to run—unlike Trainer Verlas—and she couldn’t pretend to be otherwise. If the kehok swiped at her with those massive knife-sharp claws, she’d be a fool not to try to avoid its attack.
The kehok pressed his face closer to the bars, and she felt the sour heat of his breath.
He hasn’t killed me yet. That’s good, isn’t it?
Louder, she said, “You want your freedom as much as I want mine. And the only way they’ll ever let you out of this cage alive is if there’s a chance you’ll win races. And the only way you’ll ever win races is if I’m your rider.” She believed that, because she didn’t think there was anyone else in this whole market, maybe in all of Becar, who needed to win badly enough to risk their life like this.
“You, girl? You want to be his rider?” That was Trainer Verlas, behind her.
If Raia hadn’t been standing just a few inches from a killer, she’d have jumped on the chance to convince the trainer that yes, she was serious, and yes, she would work hard, and yes, she was ready, and yes yes yes—she’d said that speech a dozen times today already.
But this time . . . it wasn’t the trainer she had to convince.
It was the monster.
Win him, and she’d win the trainer.
She understood that instinctively. And she’d learned to trust her instincts, like she did a few weeks ago when she got the very strong sense to climb out her window and down the trellis and hide in the shadows of the topiary garden. . . . Those instincts hadn’t steered her wrong. Her parents had come through her door only minutes later. She’d watched them, lit by the candles they carried, and seen that they’d brought ropes—ropes!—to tie her up, as if she were a disobedient dog.
But she couldn’t think about them now. Only the kehok.
“We’re alike, you and I,” Raia told him, softly this time. She was aware an audience had gathered behind her. She saw them out of the corners of her eyes. “We both hate cages.”
He snorted, almost as if he understood her.
“I have a proposition for you. You don’t kill me, and I won’t let them kill you. They will, you know. Even she won’t stop them, if you don’t accept a rider. Let me be that rider, and I will make sure you live.” Raia took