I give him a nod, but none of it feels right. It’s more clear than ever that I’m a carefully constructed sideshow. An example of their kindness to my people. The Ashlords know exactly how good I’d have to be to beat their bright and shining stars. And their money is on the fact that I can’t rise to that challenge. Never could.

Ideas are churning now. There has to be a way to change the game.

Farian sees the look on my face and switches tunes. “Forget the Races,” he says. “We’re in the biggest city in the Empire. Let’s celebrate.”

The word celebrate almost snaps me out of my funk. I watch as he walks over and throws open the food cupboards. Little delicacies line each shelf. There’s even a fresh bucket of ice with two glistening glass bottles on the floor of the closet. Farian’s eyes go wide, because it’s more packaged food than either of us has ever seen. He looks back my way.

“Tell me this is yours.”

“It’s free,” I reply, smiling. “It’s all free.”

“And you haven’t touched any of it?”

He reaches down and pulls out both bottles.

“It didn’t feel right. Everything about this place is so…them.”

Farian plucks up the bottle opener, flicks the cap off with a practiced motion, then grabs the other and repeats the motion. He hands it to me before holding up his own to make a toast.

“To the Dividian. To Imelda. To doing things our way!”

I grin and tap the neck of my bottle against his.

“To doing things our way.”

Farian slowly resurrects me. We snack and drink and laugh. He throws open the balcony windows, and we call down to people who pass the hotel front. Everything’s so bright. The city never sleeps. At the end of a long night, he heads back to his room. He mentions that Martial’s in the city and wants to help with strategizing. I’m surprised the former victor has traveled all this way, but it makes sense—after all, someone had to escort Farian.

I eventually sleep, but the dreams start out dark and haunting. I’m playing a board game against the other riders, and they won’t explain the rules. They move each piece flawlessly. When I try to mimic their motions, they laugh, slap my hand away, and say that’s not how the game works. All of them laugh and laugh and laugh until I flip the table.

And the pieces scatter everywhere.

I wake up in the middle of the night and know exactly what I’m going to do.

Chapter 16: A Quiet Corner