“I would use it,” Quinn says bluntly. “The gods wield your blood in our world. If you win, I will revive. I will be their newest target. A few drops of your blood will go a long way. It will help me survive their initial hunt. I cannot lead a revolution in chains.”

You watch the girl carefully. There’s an honesty to her that’s rare in your own world. You’ve almost forgotten who she is, where she comes from. Quinn is from the underworld. The brutal realm of gods and demons and who knows what else. She’s spent her entire life as a slave, and yet she was the one who insisted on saving Etzli. She’s the one who believes in creating a better world, a better version of you. The silence stretches. Quinn takes it as rejection.

“Never mind,” she starts to say. “I will still—”

You lean back and reach into the saddlebags. There’s a skinning blade there. Every rider keeps one on hand for survival purposes out on the plains. You grit your teeth and transform it into a ceremonial dagger. The blade drags across the back of your finger. The blood gathers there. So little to you. So much to her. You hold your hand out to Quinn.

“Take what you need.”

She untucks a little rag from one pocket. Like her, the material feels insubstantial, there and not, as she presses it to your wound. It drinks in the steady drops. Quinn tucks it back into her belt and lunges toward you. Defensive instincts almost kick in before you realize it’s a hug. She wraps you in an embrace that somehow feels more real than anything Bravos ever gave you. The feeling of warmth and love almost takes your breath away. Your people do not hug.

“It’s moving,” Quinn says unexpectedly. “The numbers.”

You pull away long enough to eye your Race-standard bracelet. She’s right. Bravos’s lead is decreasing. You watch the number tick slowly back toward the distance that’s posted next to Revel’s name. At the same time, Adrian Ford approaches from the opposite direction. You’ve raced long enough to know they’re not actually riding their phoenixes, not at this hour of the night. The thought has you smiling. Adrian and Bravos have left their ashes unguarded.

“What does it mean?” Quinn asks.

You can’t help grinning.

“Boys and blood.”

Chapter 40: The Ashlord Way

The rain sweeps in through gaps in the branches overhead.