“What?” she says, faking a shocked look.

“I like Bel. He’s nice. So you be nice to him, okay?” Back in the early days of my training before I’d tamed my rebellious streak, the instructors made me do extra drills when I spoke out—which was often. More than once, Bel had gone out of his way to grab a plate for me before the dining hall closed up for the night so I’d have something to eat when I was done.

“Fine, fine,” she says. “Not going to make you spar twice in one day.”

“True friendship.”

Vera starts chatting with the person on her other side as I lean forward. The white stone of the causeway pushes into my stomach, but I’m desperate for a glimpse of the racers. The Four Gates races takes competitors around each of the cardinal points of the city, as well as under. The Heliana floats high above the wide sapphire sea, an ever-present citadel sustained by the magic of old. Somewhere below us, a team of Leonodai hold colored pennants that they’ll toss into the air for the racers to catch. Each racer will need five pennants—one from below and four from around the city—before they can circle back to the starting line.

A slight breeze sweeps over my skin, and I wipe the residual sweat from my match. I wish I’d had time to clean up, but time waits for no warrior.

“They’re in the final turn,” Vera says excitedly. “There!”

Six pairs of gold wings soar up from behind the Glass Tower to the west, followed closely by a second group of Leonodai, some of whom might be waiting for the last minute to make their break.

At the finish line, a single gold flag waves in the wind. To win, the warrior must fall from the sky as a lion, take their human form and grab the flag, then take to the skies once more in their proud lion form. It’s not a difficult trick in and of itself, but to do so with the other competitors clawing at your heels takes skill and timing, unless you want to take a claw to the face.

Last year’s winner, a warrior named Io, waves to the crowd from the victor’s platform across from us. On a muscled arm, Io bears the sapphire-studded armlet that goes to the winner each year.

“Why aren’t the sentinels up there?” I ask.

Vera shrugs. “Maybe they changed things this year.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I’ll have to ask Shirene what held them up. I see less and less of my sister these days, but she’ll be at my oath ceremony tomorrow.

First the king not at my match, and now the sentinels aren’t at the finish line. I couldn’t think of any matter of state that would keep them away on High Summer.