Luther stood with outstretched arms, creating an invisible starting line. Petra danced anxiously beneath Shep. Suzanne climbed into the saddle on her beautiful silver dragon and edged into position.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” Luther said. “Welcome to the night races.” Several students hollered and whooped, but Luther lowered his hand and silence fell once more. Excitement thrummed in my blood. “The race will begin here and move down Clover Street, move up topside on High Street, move back down through Compton, Cistern, and Memorial. The race will make three loops and finish topside, right here.” He raised his right hand and pointed up.
Just above us was the government complex, including the massive building that housed the parliament and the annexes for the high court, the trade bureau, and the tax office I’d had the unfortunate opportunity to visit more than once, begging for mercy. They had shown no mercy then, and I doubted if we were caught tonight that we would be shown any now.
“If we get caught,” Luther continued, “this race never happened. I was never here.” Several people chuckled. “You were never here,” he said, pointing at the crowd and spinning around in a circle to indicate all of us. His gaze snagged on me, but he said nothing as he spun back to extend his armsonce more, the makeshift starting line. “Shep.” Shep nodded. “Suzanne.” She nodded. “Tonight’s purse is two hundred carands.”
I sputtered, unable to contain my shock. Several narrow scowls slid toward me, and a few muttered words brought more heat to my cheeks.
“May the best rider win,” Luther said. “On your mark. Get set. Go.” He dropped his arms at his sides, and the dragons were gone before I could even blink, leaving behind a rush of wind that pulled my hair into my face.
Everybody poured down the street now, scattering to watch the race from various angles and vantage points. The sound of wingbeats faded as the dragons vanished around a corner. I ran with the rest of them, blood pounding in my veins. Two hundred carands…
I heard the sound of a snarl and a whimper from up ahead, and several of the boys shouted, “Get her, Shep!”
A few students charged up the steps that led topside, hoping to catch the next section of the race before the dragons passed by. I hurled myself up the steps two at a time, trying to keep up, my dress wadded in my hands.
We took our place along the edge of the bridge overlooking the lower streets.
“There they are!” Someone pointed down the long street. I squinted into the darkness. If it weren’t for the pale hue of the dragons’ scales, I wouldn't have seen them. Their wings were vertical as they came around the corner of the court building. Suzanne’s dragon clipped the building opposite with the tip of her wing as she righted, then dove. The two dragons tucked their wings and shot by, dipping below the bridge, directly beneath our feet.
I gasped as a breeze slapped our faces. Vanya covered a quiet scream with both hands.
Then several beats of silence followed as we waited for the dragons to make their second lap. My nerves felt like finely tuned violin strings.
This time, the dragons’ grunting announced their arrival a second before they banked around the turn. They were clawing at each other, spinning around each other, over and above, dangerously close. This wasn't like a normal race. The dragons barely had room to spread their wings between the city buildings, and it was all maneuvering, angling, fighting to get the best position. Suzanne was ahead only by a fraction as they dove beneath us once more.
“This is night racing,” Covington said, taking note of my pinched face. I hadn’t noticed him arrive on the bridge. Scarlett was nowhere in sight, watching from another vantage point, I supposed.
He hurried off down the bridge, and suddenly, we were moving too. The whole group of us was jogging, and I was smiling like a fool, half in a panic and half delighted at the thrill of the race.
Around a corner, standing in the middle of the street, the rest of the crowd was already gathered. This was the finish line. Covington threaded himself into the crowd without a problem, but the rest of us were forced to stand at the back.
“Here they come!”
The dragons shot out from a narrow slit in the bridge we now stood on, popping up with wings beating madly to gain height. Shep’s dragon wasn’t far behind Suzanne’s, but he used the bridge’s railing to push off.
Luther climbed up on the balustrade, arms raised over his head. “Two hundred carands,” he said to us all as we pressed in to watch the end of the race.
People hollered. Despite Luther’s warnings about getting caught, no one here seemed concerned about staying quiet.
The dragons snarled and snapped their jaws, wings beating furiously. I bit my lip so hard I drew blood.
One dragon shot past, then the next.
Shep had won by half a length.
Wind crashed over us, and we were cheering, running, laughing.
A light flared to life in one of the upper windows across the street from the parliament building, where some of the magistrates kept apartments to return to after late nights at work.
“Window,” somebody shouted, pointing up where the light shone.
Instead of silence, a few of the boys cursed loudly, while others whistled as if glad to see they’d woken someone.
“To the train!” hissed a third-year girl, barely containing her giggles.
“Now for the real race,” Prescott said, waving his arms like a shepherd directing sheep.
