Ayala heaves a sigh but doesn’t say anything. The tension between us has been growing. I’m thankful to her, and I know she means well. She’s taken me under her wing since the moment I was named Qualifier. She might not speak it aloud, but I know she sees the same thing that I do. I’m not ready for the Races. My bond with my horse isn’t where it needs to be. I can’t defend myself or my ashes if push comes to shove. And now this?

The whole week has been a long string of flashing lights and loud noises. I’ve learned more about the Ashlords this week than I have in the past sixteen years. Their greatest strength isn’t their physical prowess or their height. It’s not the way their bodies have adapted perfectly to the desert landscape of the Empire. It’s their exposure to noise, their poise under pressure.

I saw it in Pippa tonight.

Everyone calls her name. Hands reach toward her. Lights flash to capture that perfect stride as she walks the carpeted world for which she was born. All the pressure just makes her shine like a diamond. Her whole life has been a preparation for this event, while I’ve been given one week to pull it all together. And she’s not the only one. Etzli and Adrian are the same way. All of them are ready to dance circles around me.

Unless I change the steps. I have to figure out a different way to win.

There’s a knock at the door.

Ayala smiles at me and rises to answer it.

“Let’s talk more tomorrow. You’ve got a surprise tonight.”

There’s a little click as the door opens, and a series of loud booms as someone comes barreling into the room. Ayala laughs as Farian trips into my line of sight. He’s wearing his favorite cardigan and his best pants, with his hair styled like he’s hoping to visit a few clubs. He’s even got his handheld camera pressed to one eye, and it’s pointed at me.

“And here she is. The Alchemist, Imelda Beru, a rising star from the corner of the Empire. Clearly, the fame hasn’t gone to her head yet. Not if she’s still wearing those boots.”

And for the first time in days, I laugh. Down deep in my gut.

“You’re here for two seconds and already snacking on me, Farian?”

Ayala heads for the door and waves her goodbye.

“We’ll talk in the morning. Good night, you two.”

Farian puts the camera away long enough to give me a hug. I can feel the burdens of the week falling off my shoulders as he sits down and gestures to his feet.

“Can you believe these slippers? They’re so comfortable.”

I laugh again. “Slippers I can believe. But you? Here? Impossible.”