all the trainers and students are fine.” Raia noticed she didn’t mention the kehoks. “Shalla, I’d like you to meet my newest rider. This is Raia.”
Raia heard the words “my newest rider” and froze for an instant—would she still be that in the morning? Then Raia remembered her manners and bowed her head. “Thank you for allowing me into your home. I hope I’m not an intrusion.”
Shalla bowed back before bounding over to drag her farther inside. She shooed Raia into a chair and pushed a plate with a slice of bread into Raia’s hands. “Here’s what you need to know. My mother’s like fresh-baked bread. Crunchy on the outside but soft and sweet on the inside. If she took you on as a rider, then that means you’re family, and you’re welcome here.”
Raia glanced at Trainer Verlas and was surprised to see how much her expression had softened in the presence of her daughter. Her lips were curved in what was almost a smile, and she was looking at Shalla as if the girl had carved the crescent moon.
“I’ve been wanting a sister for a while,” Shalla continued. “Last rider was a boy.”
Trainer Verlas protested, “I had more girls than boys with the last batch of paying students, if you want to count them. And there’s nothing wrong with boys.”
“Generically, no,” Shalla said. “I like them fine. But not in my house. Do you have any idea how badly their feet can smell?”
“But they’re my stinky feet, and I’m used to them.” Turning to Raia, she asked, “Do you want fruit on the bread? We have a jar of pomegranate spread. Just to warn you: it’s a little sweet.”
“Sweet for my sweet,” Trainer Verlas sang.
“I made it,” Shalla admitted, “and I kind of dumped a lot of sugar in. A lot of sugar. You should sleep in my bed tonight. I’ll take the floor. You’re probably sore from training. Mama doesn’t go easy on her riders.”
She jumped between topics so quickly that it made Raia’s head spin. “I’m fine on the floor, but thank you. And pomegranate sounds nice.”
Shalla grabbed a jar and ladled a spoonful onto the slice of bread. She beamed at Raia, and Raia stared back at her.
When Raia was Shalla’s age, she was constantly punished for speaking out of turn. Her family didn’t believe in children expressing opinions until they were old enough to . . . well, never really. She glanced at Trainer Verlas and thought she had to be an incredible mother for Shalla to be so open and so happy.
She thought about what Shalla had said, about how she was now family. She didn’t believe that—your family was your family, whether you wanted them to be or not—but she did feel safer and more welcome here than she had in a very long time, even before she’d felt the need to climb out her bedroom window.
Picking up the bread, Raia took a bite. Sugar exploded in her mouth, so sweet it made her teeth ache—it was much, much too sugary. Shalla was watching her anxiously, as if it were important to her that Raia be as happy as she was.
Raia smiled at her. “It’s perfect,” she said. Not the bread. That was awful. But Trainer Verlas and her daughter, and the way they’d welcomed her in.
Shalla beamed back at her. “Good. It’s important you’re happy here.”
She seemed so very earnest that Raia couldn’t help asking, “Why does it matter to you? You just met me.” Certainly her own family hadn’t cared for her happiness. Why did this perfect stranger?
“Because you’re our only hope.” Shalla said it so matter-of-factly, as if it weren’t a terrifying statement. “Right, Mama? She needs to win races so Mama can pay the augurs so that we can be together.”
The sugar suddenly tasted like sand on Raia’s tongue. “You need me to win?” It was one thing when she was racing just for herself—a chance at her own freedom—but this . . .
Trainer Verlas sighed. “I wouldn’t have put it quite so bluntly, but yes. My daughter is training to be an augur, and I will be using the trainer’s share of the prize money to pay for her tuition.”
“If we can’t pay, we can’t be together,” Shalla said.
She was looking at Raia with so much hope and trust that Raia felt sick. She thought back to what the other students had said, and the fact that she hadn’t seen anyone else