I pull on the gear and mount my hover. While the floor is packed dirt, there’s a magnetic surface beneath it that engages the maglev of the hoverboard with a now familiar hum.

I feel good going into my first practice match against Carlota—that is until she’s careening toward me with a massive lance aimed at the shield on my left arm, which suddenly feels far too small. I squeeze my eyes shut and do everything in my power not to follow my instinct to veer away. Carlota’s lance crashes hard against my shield, my whole body jangling with the impact as I zoom past her to the other end of the pit. At least I stay on my hover and don’t drop the lance. Carlota beats me 3–0.

Miriam has us do various balance and aim drills and rotates us through more practice matches, all of which I soundly lose.

The entire experience is… painful. The team is made up of competitive, well-trained athletes who have been playing this game for most of their lives. By the time we pause for a break, I’ve fallen numerous times, I’m sore in places I didn’t even know existed, and I’m pretty confident that I’m not getting onto the team anytime soon.

But Miriam is surprisingly pleased with my performance. “For a total novice? We didn’t expect anything different. In fact, we expected much worse. Welcome to the team!”

“I mean, you’ll have to work on keeping your eyes open and on your lance control,” Carlota pipes in.

“Who cares about lance control when she can stay balanced while moving that gravdamn fast?” Sebastian responds with a wink.

A gong indicates that the team’s time using the pit is over, and everyone gathers their things as players from another team stream in for their practice. I glide toward the exit, but I overestimate my ability to jump a barrier and crash into it, landing on my hip, my face scuffing the dirt. I groan and roll onto my back.

A harsh laugh echoes above me, and I glance up to see Rafe. He looks scrumptious in his tightly fitted padded armor—all in Bio shades of amber—with his helmet in his hand and his blond hair flowing like some kind of punk rock Lancelot.

“You’re the prospect the Alchemists have been excited about?” He does not look impressed. “I guess the Ciphers will be our only rivals for the title this year.” He hops on his hover and glides off, making no effort to reduce the amount of dirt he sprays into my face.

“Hey!” Carlota shouts, gliding after him, but Sebastian and another boy, whose name I already forgot, hold her back.

“What did he say to you?” Carlota huffs. “I’ve already reported him to the Jousting Lodge once, and I will happily do it again if he’s being a prejudiced son-of-a-sphinx….”