You’ll make good time and not have to worry about other riders until the third night. And at that point, the others will be bloodied and tired. Both of you will be fresh. You can almost hear the odds on you winning the Races ticking higher and higher.

Overhead, the sun falls quicker and faster than usual. The mountains to the west start siphoning away the light. As it staggers down the horizon, the two of you push your horses a little harder. The path leads to a sprawling plateau that overlooks the narrow canyon valleys, but even up here the light is fast fading.

Only when the last golden streaks abandon the upper crags of the distant Gravitas Mountains do you slow. Bravos does the same, reining in beside you to dismount. All your recent training has been for multiday races, so you both know the routine. A ritual removal of saddles and gear, paired with quiet encouragements for the horses as you do.

Quinn stands off to one side and watches curiously. You realize this must all be so very strange to her. If she’s truly a slave, what must she think of your freedom?

Bravos digs through a sack before removing a hand-length sword. If he used it against another rider, he’d be imprisoned for the rest of his life, but officials still allow them in the competition for phoenix deaths. It’s a more brutal, archaic way of doing things. Bravos has always preferred it. He starts forward with the weapon in hand, and you’re surprised by a flash of blue light. Quinn darts between the two of you, hands held out protectively.

But a second later the spirit sees his true intention. He turns the steel not on you, but on his horse. He sets a trusting hand on the creature’s neck and puts his full weight into a deadly thrust. Metal bites through muscle and past bone, finding its mark.

There’s a single, terrible scream. Bravos holds his horse’s gaze and twists the blade once before dragging the weapon free. You can feel Quinn’s shoulders shaking. His phoenix stumbles and slumps as blood starts to pool.

“Gods below, Bravos. Do you always have to be such a butcher about it? You do realize we’re not fighting in the Helio Wars, don’t you?”

You leave Quinn’s side and approach Flicker. Bravos shrugs back at you.

“Dead is dead. We’re riders, Pippa. Faster is always better.”

“Boys and blood.” You reach up and offer a handful of berries to Flicker. The phoenix snorts twice before snapping the offering up. Bravos has already turned his back on his own dying horse as it heaves its final breaths. Flicker is busily munching on the offered poison when Quinn slides quietly over to you. Her voice trembles.

“Why would he do that?”

“Phoenixes die. And what dies can rise.”