You didn’t ask the question because you think you know the answer. Your father’s pride would have never borne such a burden. He couldn’t have ever faced the prospect of a life with someone who bested him. Fate favored him enough to let him ride in his own year, leaving the question of who was the best a permanent mystery.

Lying down, you let your eyes trail the dark walls. You think about Bravos. How often has he said second place would suit him just fine? How long has he been hiding his own pride? He’s not quite as competitive as your father, not really, but you know that when the Races begin and eternal glory is on the line, people change. Could Bravos really live with second place? Or would it eat him alive over the years?

You hate the answer to that question. Deep down, you know Bravos would not suffer second place. Not for long. Champions wear their crowns for life. It would always be you stepping into the spotlight, always you giving interviews, and always you smiling at the crowd.

All while Bravos withered in your shadow.

It would break him, and eventually break the two of you. As you trace the inevitable steps, it’s not hard to see where that road would lead.

He’s not strong enough to be second, but you are.

You already know that you’re the best. You’ve already pulled all the necessary strings to arrange a victory, so now all you have to do is hand him the crown and live happily ever after. Your parents will think it a grand disappointment. Zeta—and maybe the rest of the world—will call it a disaster, but stubbornly you remind yourself that this is your life, it’s your future.

And you want that future to be with the man you love at your side.

Chapter 7: The Qualifier

The knock at our front door comes early in the morning.

I stare at the ceiling, listening to house sounds. Someone is on the couch, stirring sleepily. Someone else is at the table. I’d guess Father, sipping coffee. The door creaks open and I can imagine my mother smiling out at whoever’s waiting there.

Farian wouldn’t knock. Anyone who really knows us wouldn’t. I’m scared it’s Oxanos. Last night was his fault. He asked for the dance, and we all know how he intended it to go. He wanted to press his hips to mine for a few minutes. He wanted to make my father’s skin crawl, to bury my family’s honor with a smile. All I did was beat him at his own game.