I’m taking a risk, but at this point in the Races, the winners always take risks. My ashes are vulnerable. Well hidden, but I’ve watched enough footage of the Races to know there’re no guarantees once you’re in the arena. It’s a risk I have to take. A glance down at my bracelet shows the distance to Revel ticking down. He’s not on the move, which means he’s entrenched somewhere. A second glance shows Bravos is moving. Backtracking toward us.

I tighten my grip on the baton.

A storm is coming.

Thunder shakes out overhead. Lightning briefly illuminates the gaps in the canopy. The desert forest is thick enough to act as a shield. Desert storms roll in quick and hard. Usually they’re dangerous because they strike before the victim can find proper refuge. Rain slicks the branches and puddles along the paths. It’ll make tomorrow’s first leg trickier, but I shove all thought of tomorrow aside. I need to be sharp in the here and now. Tonight is all that matters.

These forests are not empty. Desert birds roost above. The rain brings out groans and protests from the smaller creatures that have survived long enough to call this place home. Every shaking leaf catches my attention. Where did Revel go? The number on my bracelet flatlines. We’re standing the exact same distance from the finish line now.

I glance right, then left.

The answer comes from a dangling, half-snapped branch. It’s not easy to lead a phoenix off the path without notice. Revel went that way. I slide back into motion and follow the other clues. There’s still movement on my bracelet. Bravos is closing in on the location, too. I eye the forest on my right. It says he’s just seventy paces that way, but the shadows are too thick.

I need to find Revel first.

Pressing through a gap in the tree line, I stumble into a clearing. The rain comes down thicker, but there’s more light, too. The unveiled stars to the west offer me my first view of Revel. A single fist of stone has punched up through the ground at the far end of the clearing. The Ashlord has wisely put his back to it. His eyes tighten as I stride into the clearing, but he doesn’t look afraid. His kind never learn fear.

It is hard to learn fear when you’re always looking down.

“Longhand,” Revel calls. “You look well.”

He makes his voice louder than necessary. Even with the steady rain and occasional crackle of thunder, it is a voice that will be heard. His goal is clear. He wants Bravos to come.

I almost laugh. “Do you really believe Bravos will help you? We both know how you ride. If anyone is a threat to burn their way through the final leg and steal the crown, it’s you.”