The last person who ignores me is Etzli. The experts describe her as consistent. All my research echoed that. There’s nothing flashy about how she fights or how she rides, but sometimes all you have to do to win is be careful. She picked a spot on the ceiling and has been staring coolly at it ever since. People like her worry me more than most. Not hot and not cold. It’s the lukewarm ones who can swing either direction. It makes them unpredictable, dangerous.

Once I’ve eliminated those four, I start to assess the other potential teammates in the carriage. Bravos might pair up with someone, but I can’t figure out who. It’s hard not to notice the dynamic happening with a trio to my left. Almost everyone in the carriage is tense. Tight jaws and taut shoulders. Not these three. I find myself blanking on one of their names. He’s from out on the coast. Very precise, good fighter, uncreative. And clearly not very memorable.

I definitely recognize Capri. A former prodigy who peaked when he was seven. It’s been nearly a decade since he actually did anything impressive on the back of a horse. But the one who really has my attention is Thyma. Her head is completely shaved and her eyes look like dark pits. She answers every glance her way by baring her teeth. The third time she does it, I can’t resist winking. The look she sends back promises blood.

They’re going to kill you.

The Dread’s warning echoes. His accusation of Daddy is there, too. I choose to dismiss both. Let them try. I wait and watch and by the time the carriage stops bouncing us into each other, I’ve recalled the names of the riders she’s teaming with. I memorize their faces and try to remember all the pre-race research I did. How do they fight? How did they ride?

When they come for me on the first night, I’ll be ready.

The whole group is led out into the scorch. There’s desert for miles in every direction. I breathe it in because it’s the closest I’ve felt to home all week. Every rider carries their ashes, their locked set of first components, and a regulation riding sack full of clothes and gear.

The riding location treats us to an iconic view of the Gravitas. The mountain chain cuts across the breast of the Empire like a scar, or maybe an open wound. Hundreds of years ago the Ashlords defeated the Dividian. Later they did the same thing to the Reach, but they’ve long ignored the people who call the Gravitas home. The lower mountain villages are full of outcast Ashlords and escaped Dividian rebels. Most of them still bow to the Empire when necessary, but travel deeper in and you’ll start running into the kind of people the world prefers to forget.