We both look up. It’s the unforgivable sin of riding. At the end of a race, riders should never look up. Do not look left. Do not look right. No, a rider’s eyes find the finish line, and stay there until the end.

But we lock eyes instead. The Ashlord and the Longhand. Ruler and Rebel. We’re close enough to spit curses or whisper secrets. Our eyes lock and there’s no mistaking her at this distance. She’s a champion, a queen, a goddess. The truth rides her shoulders like a curse.

And with a single, smoldering look, she ends me.

Blue light scorches the air between us. In the brief and godly glow, I see a face. A girl’s ghostly features darkened by a savage growl. I’m helpless as an invisible arm wraps around my neck, as the impact wrenches my feet from the stirrups, and something tears me out of the saddle.

The whole world spins as I fall.

I get a final glimpse of Pippa’s hood riding the wind like fire.

Then the earth rises up and devours me.

Chapter 43: Victory

Applause thunders.

You are the winner of the Races.

Revenge collapses over the finish line. And as he falls, you slip your legs free and tuck your body into a roll. All instinct. The impact of the hardpan shakes the breath from your lungs, but a second roll brings you upright. Dust is swirling as officials from the Empire Racing Board start riding out to congratulate you on your victory. But from your crouched position, your eyes swing back to the finish line for an eternal second.

There’s an explosion of flame beside you. Revenge’s body racing its way to ashes. In the distance, Adrian’s horse has fallen to the ground. He’s wedged against the silver-wrought walls of the course, bleeding and shocked. He stares at you and looks completely dazed.

Quinn stands over him. You never asked her to do it, but she leapt anyway. She risked her life in the end so that you could win. The two of you share a look of wild freedom. You notice the cloth in her hand. The same one that carries drops of your blood. Her thought echoes across the distance and it’s as loud as if she were speaking in your ear.

Now I begin my own race.

The girl grins wickedly, and you feel the same grin spreading over your face. Instinctively you reach out for her, and she mirrors the motion before fire consumes everything. A blinding flash. You rush forward, half shielding your eyes from the bright reckoning that will revive Quinn in her world. But as the light fades, it’s clear she’s gone.

Drawn back to the underworld.

Free.

Chapter 44: The Battle of Gig’s Wall

“God in heaven,” Bastian says, still grinning. “They sent a whole company.”