“Can’t wait to see what they do for Derricus!” the Emperor said in high good humor, and he chucked Diana’s chin hard enough to snap her head back. “A good race, girl. What a wicked one you are!” He chuckled as he moved away, a little glint showing hard in his eye, and his entourage melted with him. Behind him silence rippled outward in little frozen waves. The grooms stood uncertainly, wine jugs in hand, and Xerxes looked like he’d been turned to stone. Derricus leaned against the stable wall, arms folded across his chest, smirking. Only the horses moved, still drinking thirstily.

Finally, Xerxes spoke. “Aulus,” he called to one of the grooms through lips that barely moved. “Lead these horses over to the Blues faction stables.”

“No!” Diana lurched in front of Boreas. “You can’t do that—no one can do that, they belong to us—”

“He’s the Emperor. He can do what he likes.” Xerxes rounded on her, snarling. “And if you hadn’t interfered, Lady—”

But his voice trailed away. Word had already spread somehow to the Blues; their faction director was waddling down to see for himself, all smiles. “Well,” he beamed, running a hand over Boreas’s haunch.

Someone—she didn’t know who—latched a hand onto Diana’s elbow before she leaped forward and tried to kill him.

Her Anemoi. The Blues. Her Anemoi.

Derricus looked at the victory palm in Diana’s hand, and he laughed.

The Blues.

Diana watched in numb misery as one by one, her four winds were draped in blue horse blankets and led away.

SHE didn’t know how she got to Llyn’s villa. A hired litter maybe, or a wagon, or maybe she ran the whole way. She just found herself stumbling up the slope, shivering violently. Her blistered fingers throbbed, her waist was a belt of pain from the knotted reins, her legs barely worked anymore, but all she could feel was the frozen place inside.

Llyn was striding out of the stables with a broken bridle, unknotting the stitching on the reins, when he saw her. He paused. “Lady?”

Diana stopped, shivering in great waves. She realized she was still clutching her victory palm.

“Lady?” Llyn came another step closer, and she blundered forward into his broad chest.

“My horses,” she mumbled against his rough tunic, and the frozen place finally cracked inside her. “They took my horses.”

“They took my everything,” said Llyn.

He stood like a pillar, holding her as Diana finally began to weep.

Eighteen

Eighteen

IS it true the horses lifted off the ground and flew in the last lap?”

“No.” Cornelia smiled. “Well, not quite. Almost. I can see how that rumor got started—they were a full quarter lap ahead when they crossed the line. A new record for the Circus Maximus, I believe.”