“Ow.” He rubbed his scalp as if she’d pounded him. “I was just trying to say she should enjoy herself. It’s not every day you get to dare death.”
“That is literally what we do every day,” Silar said. She waved at Raia. “Good luck out there. Hope you make it through!”
“Yeah, we can hope for that, since we’re not racing against you,” Jalimo said.
“Good luck!” Raia called to them. “Hope you make it through too!”
She couldn’t decide if it was better to have friends who were rooting for her, or worse because there were people to disappoint. But there wasn’t time for an endless spiral of self-doubt—Trainer Verlas made sure of that. She barked orders, and Raia hurried to feed the black lion, saddle him, and prepare to walk him to the track.
“You’ll lead him without any chains from here to the track and wait until the race officials are ready before you proceed to your starting gate,” Trainer Verlas said. “It’s showboating, but it also serves as an essential first step. Anyone who cannot control their kehok during the pre-race period is immediately disqualified. I won’t be allowed to help you. I’ll be with the other trainers in the stands.”
“I can do this,” Raia said, though she wasn’t certain if she was talking to Trainer Verlas, the black lion, or herself. But she felt it was true, for one of the first times in her life. Perhaps the only other time she remembered was when she’d cheered herself on as she climbed out the window of her family’s house and fled into the unknown.
“Once the race starts, all you need to do is run,” Trainer Verlas reminded her. “Stay in the moment. The future will follow as it will.”
Raia nodded.
She was beginning to understand why so few people even tried monster racing. Constant terror is a bit of a distraction, she thought. But if she couldn’t dispel her fear, she could use it, like Trainer Verlas kept telling her.
Across the camp, Raia heard a commotion: cheers and shouts as other riders and spectators flocked to cluster around a new arrival. Standing on her tiptoes, she tried to see who the fuss was about, but Trainer Verlas poked her in the shoulder. “Just a hotshot rider. Every season has them. Ignore him. You won’t gain anything by comparing yourself to anyone else.”
Turning her back on the popular rider and his fans, Raia saddled the black lion. Trainer Verlas checked all the buckles and straps, and then Raia rechecked them.
Beyond the campsites, from the stands by the racetrack, she heard even louder cheering. Her heart felt as if it were beating in her throat. She swallowed hard. The first heat was underway.
“Ready?” Trainer Verlas asked.
“Can I say no?” Raia asked.
“I’m going to assume you’re joking.”
“I’m joking,” Raia said quickly. I’m not. She took a deep breath in, and she began to remove the chains and shackles.
Trainer Verlas laid a hand on her shoulder. “Let me. You mount.”
Raia climbed into the saddle while Trainer Verlas moved around the black lion, unhooking the chains and removing the shackles. She was murmuring to the lion, but Raia couldn’t hear what she was saying. Probably threatening him, Raia thought.
She felt the black lion tense beneath her—he knew that the chains were released. “Steady,” she whispered in his ear.
He flicked his ear back at her.
He’d heard her.
She just didn’t know if he cared.
“Walk,” she commanded.
For one excruciating instant, he did not move, and she thought her racing dreams were over before they began. But then he strode forward. She kept her eyes fixed ahead of her. She knew Trainer Verlas was somewhere nearby, watching. She knew others were probably watching too, but she kept her focus narrowed on just her lion and where she needed him to go.
Bearing her, the lion walked regally out of the campsite and toward the racetrack. The route was hemmed in by walls, but they were no higher than the walls at the practice track. She knew he could jump them if he wanted to.
Don’t think about that, she warned herself.
Beneath her, the lion began to growl, a low rumble that vibrated through her thighs. “Walk forward,” she told him. “One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four . . .” He walked in rhythm with her counting, so she kept it up.
Logically, she knew the walk from the campsite to the racetrack wasn’t far. But it felt like miles. All around them were shouts and screams from the other