The dread doubles when I hear the voices. Several people introduce themselves to my mother. City-bred voices. None of them are Oxanos, but all of them are Ashlords. I’m terrified; then I hear my mother’s voice calling my name through the paper-thin walls.

“Imelda.”

I don’t bother putting on proper clothes. It’s not our clothes the Ashlords look down on. It’s our skin, our height, our everything. I fix the strap of my overalls and walk out to face them.

Father’s at the kitchen table. He looks up, worried and helpless, as I walk past. I don’t know how to tell him it’s all going to be okay. Mother holds out a protective arm and wraps it around my shoulders. The three Ashlords stand just outside the door. They’re all tall and graceful, skin so polished they’re almost shining in the sunless dawn.

“Imelda Beru?” One is a woman. She steps forward and eyes me. “The Alchemist?”

I nod, a little surprised she’s using that nickname. “That’s me.”

“My name is Ayala,” the woman says. “You’re to come with us. You’ve been chosen as a possible candidate for the scholarship position this year. We’ll escort you to the capital to be interviewed. There’s a chance you’ll be competing in the Races as the Qualifier.”

Mother’s staring at me. Back in the kitchen, Father chokes on his coffee. I hear Prosper’s voice and my uncle quieting him from the couch. Ayala’s words have woken everyone up but me. I still feel like I’m walking through a dream world, grasping at impossibilities. I stare at her and say the only thing in my head that sounds rational.

“How many will be interviewed?”

One of the male Ashlords stiffens, like a Dividian asking a question offends him. Ayala doesn’t mind at all, though. She just smiles a little wider. “Seven others.”

Seven others? If Farian heard that, he’d freak. My odds of being the Qualifier have just increased dramatically. Thousands of applicants and hopefuls spread out across the Empire. Now there are only eight people left? I want to ask about the kinds of tests they’ll use, what kind of etiquette I’m expected to show. Instead, I let those questions drift away on the wind. I’m not going to start off by looking ignorant in front of the Racing Board’s hired officials.

“When do we leave?” I ask.

“Once you’ve packed your things,” Ayala replies. She turns to my mother now. “We’ll arrive before nightfall. Your daughter will stay in one of the finest hotels in Furia. An attendant will accompany her and keep her safe at all times. Tomorrow, she’ll be interviewed. After the interviews, there will be a dinner for all the candidates. She’ll be sent home if she isn’t chosen.”

“And if she is?” Mother asks.