He looked as she remembered: clean-shaven and handsome in the highly manicured way of a man who knows exactly how handsome he is. He was riding a silver spider kehok and wearing sleeveless riding armor that showed off his lack of scars.
Shit.
We aren’t going to win.
If they didn’t place first, they wouldn’t win enough gold. She wouldn’t be able to repay Lady Evara for the slain kehok and still have enough left over for the augur’s latest demands. . . .
But it was too late for more training or even a pep talk. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The future will be what it will be. She’d told Raia not to think about the future, but it was Tamra’s job to worry.
And I won’t let our dreams end before they begin.
Pushing back from the front of the stands, Tamra scanned the audience, looking not for a familiar face but for a familiar type—and she saw him. Short, squat, with a clipboard that he was scrawling on as fast as his little fingers could write, the bookie was busily taking bets from a crowd that shoved and maneuvered to reach him. She usually avoided such people.
Elbowing aside several people, Tamra pushed her way to the bookie.
“Name,” he said.
“Trainer Tamra Verlas.”
He glanced up. She felt the looks of a few around her—her name came with a wealth of rumors and gossip and opinions. “You want to bet? But . . . you have a rider in this race. . . .”
She heard whispers around her—it was well-known in the circuit that Trainer Tamra Verlas never bet on her own racer. She refused to listen to them. I do what I must. “Odds?”
The bookie erased the shock from his expression. All business, he barked, “New racer. New rider . . . thirty to one.”
She nodded. She expected as much. Raia was untried. “Two gold on a trifecta: the silver spider first, the blue lizard second, the black lion third.”
He blinked. Two gold was a lot for a qualifying race. And to bet on a trifecta in a qualifying round was nearly unheard of—the racers and riders were untested. Even more, to bet against your own rider . . . It was considered bad form at best. Stupid at worst. Racing was such a mental game, and if a rider knew her own trainer was betting against her placing first . . . I’m not betting she’ll lose, Tamra consoled herself. I’m betting she’ll place third.
I’m betting she’ll win us what we need to keep going.
If she was right, she could come home with enough winnings to appease both Lady Evara and Augur Clari, at least until the next race. . . . “Odds?”
He licked his lips. “Two hundred fifty-seven to one. Only exact placement pays.”
Tamra dropped the two gold pieces into his hand, and he quickly tucked them into one of his pouches and jotted down her bet on the clipboard. Others pressed around him to place their bets. She wiped her now-sweating hands on her pants. She’d done what she always swore she wouldn’t do. Then again, she swore she’d keep Shalla out of the clutches of the augurs.
One of those was much more pressing.
She felt Osir’s eyes on her, judging her, a smug smile on his face. She avoided meeting his gaze. Let him think whatever he wants. She told herself she didn’t care what his opinion was. What mattered was Shalla and Raia.
Pushing back to the front of the stands, Tamra looked out again at the starting gates. Raia was gazing around her with a caught-gazelle kind of expression. Third, Tamra thought. All she has to do is finish third.
“Ready,” Tamra whispered, as the race official shouted, “Ready!”
“Prepare,” she whispered, as the race official shouted, “Prepare!”
“Race!” she shouted, as the race official and every trainer and spectator in the stands shouted, “Race!” A second official pushed the lever that released the starting gate doors. All twenty doors flung open, and the kehoks poured out, the silver spider in the lead.
Sand was thrown into the air, and Tamra tasted it. She heard the shouts and screams and cheers all blended into a single roar, and she was cheering too. And crying. Because this felt like home.
Wind slammed into Raia’s face. Sand flew around them. And she heard thunder. It rumbled through her, shaking her bones and permeating her every thought.
In the desert, when she rode the black lion, there was silence. Here, twenty kehoks