“Not while I’m on duty,” he replies curtly.
“You’re always on duty,” I remark, earning myself a glare that could melt iron.
Dain nudges his mount into step beside us. Kat rolls her eyes and leans close. “See? Cage with legs.”
I can’t argue with that. In Solmere, the cages just have prettier locks. Nevertheless, I level a glare at my sister so she knows I’m being serious. “You have to stop ditching him.”
A clatter of hooves sounds behind us, and I turn to see Tobias trotting up, holding his reins with the relaxed grip of a rider who knows his steed. His tanned face cracks into a roguish grin.
“She only ditches him when she’s got better company,” Tobias says, and Kat nearly chokes on her laughter. He’s always been comfortable where others aren’t supposed to be—too close to our family, too free with his words, too familiar with Kat’s smiles.
Dain glares but says nothing, turning forward and scouting ahead. I catch Tobias’s wink at my sister. Gods help us all.
Crimson petals fall like rain from balconies, and the scent of incense curls through the streets. The capital gleams, proudly flaunting its marble arches, gilded domes, lies polished until they shine.
The Dragon Song echoes again, this time from every direction:Come, god of flame. Come take her away… As we pass, whispers ripple through the crowd about the Selection at noontide and a mysterious twist in this year’s race.
Chief Officer Garvin meets us at the pens. We dismount, and he sets to work inspecting Sterling, my best gelding. “Still as steady as you claimed?”
“Even more so, sir,” I answer.
He nods his approval. “Two hundred scales.”
I sign the parchment, half-listening to Kat making small talk with Garvin about an old horse we sold him years ago. When he says it’s retired to a farm and gentle with children, something warm flickers in me. A small mercy.
I shake the massive officer’s hand, sealing our deal, then watch as he leads Sterling away to his new life serving the captain of the capital guard.
“My beautiful Katherine!”
I freeze. That voice.
Our father,Councilman Fairchild, cuts through the crowd, his in gold-trimmed silk standing out among even their festival garb. He’s smiling wide, an expression I’ll never get used to.
Kat beams, returning his toothy smile. I grit mine.
His eyes sweep across our group and land on mine. “Selene,” he says. His smile doesn’t falter, but his eyes lose their warmth.
“Councilman.”
Behind him, a scrawny boy clutches a ledger. His new scribe. I used to be that shadow.
“No,” I say before he can speak.
He lifts a quizzical eyebrow. “Pardon?”
“I’m not entering the race.”
He just shrugs. “A pity. The purse is historic. And rumor has it that this year brings… a particular prize.”
“You have nothing I want.”
He leans closer, voice low. “Win, and petition the Council to pass my trade agreement. Ten-year rights to the Northern Route.” His smile sharpens. “Do that, and I’ll restore your name—and all that comes with it.”
I stiffen. “No man should hold the power you crave.”
His hand closes around my arm, light but venomous. “For once in your life, Selene, be useful. Don’t you want your inheritance? Your title? Your—”
“I have my inheritance,” I say, cutting him off.
