“You’ll find three separate rooms in your section of the building. The first room is your sleeping quarters. The second room is a hallway that provides access to the Powder Room. There you will order the five components you intend to use during the Races. Our officials will be available in that room to you before dawn tomorrow. You just need to knock on the glass.

“The third room is an open stable for your phoenix. You’ll arrange your ashes now, using the components you’ve previously requested. Sun will strike the ashes at dawn and the Races will begin just an hour after first births. Do not attempt to take any components other than those that you receive from the Powder Room. Any attempts to smuggle components into the Race will result in an immediate disqualification. Do you understand?”

Again, we nod. The official smiles at us now.

“Then you may begin. An official will monitor your first alchemical attempt. Once you’re satisfied with what you’ve done, you will be briefed on other aspects of the Race, including the use of your distance bracelets and switches. Enjoy your privacy tonight. Once you’ve passed the starting gates, every move you make will be monitored by the Empire Racing Board. The general public is watching, too. What you do and say can be held against you in a racing tribunal. Thank you for listening and good luck, riders.”

He looks squarely at Bravos when he wishes us luck. No luck for the hated Longhand or the forgotten Dividian, I suppose. The three of us exchange glances as an official opens each door. I walk forward without looking back. An official follows, closing the door on the others.

“The ashes?”

She gestures to a door on the opposite side of the room. I allow her to lead me through consecutive doorways and into the open stable. It’s a simple, square room, roofless to allow sunlight in. The angles are wrong right now, though. The setting sun’s already scaling the walls and half faded to the color of rust. My horse’s ashes sit in their box at the center of the room.

I make my patient way through the hanging gear first. Officials have slung my saddles and straps over temporary pegs. I carefully inspect all of it. The other riders aren’t the only ones who hate me. Antonio didn’t think officials would try anything, but Daddy taught me to be cautious. Most everything’s in order. Nothing suspicious.

The official watches as I cross back to the center of the room. Three cubes sit beside my box of ashes. I snap open the lids and inspect the components inside. All three look fresh, clean. But as I dump my horse’s ashes out on the floor, my fears are confirmed.