The screen cuts away from me instantly. Cassiopia is quick to take my words and make them her own, describing this year as the most exciting storm they’ve had in decades. She lists a schedule of appearances and pre-race events before signing off with some catchy tagline.

House lights go up. The crystal mannequins in the audience start winding down. I watch the faces disappear before glancing back at Cassiopia. She looks unsmiling and cold as her image flickers out. She’s afraid of how that went, the possible consequences. Maybe she should be. Stagehands flock forward to prepare for the next interview.

As I move into the shadows backstage, I turn a corner and almost walk right into Pippa. Her dark eyes flick briefly up. She doesn’t look surprised. Her kind never do. But a pulse of heat fills the air as she takes a step forward and unexpectedly sets one burning hand on my shoulder. Her voice is lower than a whisper.

“An awfully pretty package. It’s a shame they’re going to break it.”

I can only watch as she glides past. The heat goes with her, leaving the room feeling ice-cold. A shiver runs down my spine. She’s just trying to intimidate me, get in my head. Let them try to break me. I press on to my dressing room and find Antonio waiting there for me.

“Not exactly what we planned,” he notes.

“I’m just glad my hands weren’t shaking as I undid the buttons.”

“What made you unbutton your shirt? What angle were you playing?”

I offer him a grin. “Give them something to remember?”

He nods slowly. “Well, at least we know which night they’ll come for you now.”

“Which one?”

“The first night,” he answers. “And the second. And the third. And the fourth.”

A cold truth. His guess echoes Pippa’s.

“Sounds about right. I’ll be ready when they do.”

Antonio nods. “You’re more like your daddy than you know.”

Chapter 11: The Great Display

Eleven riders and eleven horses. Decorators from the Empire Racing Board flutter back and forth, making sure riding shirts are tucked in and flowers are positioned just so. Naturally, you’re standing front and center in the arranged display. A glance shows the other riders staggered in artful formation on your left and right. Morning light brightens the surrounding desert landscape. Hip-high barriers have been erected around each rider and their phoenix.

Interviews have been running all week. Revel promised victory. Etzli reminded the Empire she never makes mistakes. Imelda Beru’s interview was almost painful, full of mumbled answers and hesitant smiles. Adrian was quite the opposite. The Longhand went bold and called you out, but you know champions aren’t crowned for giving a good interview.

Words are wind.