She walked to the very edge of the ledge we’d claimed, andlooked down. I stepped next to her so that my body would prevent her from falling. “I don’t see anything.”
I followed her gaze. I could see the shifting, colorful crowd down below, and the riders mounting their goats. The beasts pranced and tossed their heads, some even butting heads, the sound echoing like a crack of thunder before the riders could pull them apart. They all stood on a natural outcropping that was relatively flat, but below them was the rocky mountainside and the tops of the evergreen trees.
I leaned closer to her. “The mountain is the track.”
Her eyes widened as she glanced up at me. “Seriously? They’re going to race down the mountain?”
She’d reacted exactly like I expected, and I arched a brow at her teasingly. “Where else would mountain goats race?”
“That’s a good point,” she said, moving to sit on the edge, swinging her legs while her horse watched from behind her. I sat beside her, at a respectful distance, though my body kept leaning closer to her without my permission. Baz, Kestrel, and Zamir spread out behind us, eyes constantly roving for potential threats. “How will we see who wins?”
“We won’t be able to see that, but we’ll see the beginning, which is what everyone is here for. It’s when they all plunge over the edge.”
Zara shared a long look with her horse. “That brings up memories.”
“It’s a good way to break a leg,” I said.
Zara let out a quiet laugh. “That’s what I told Shazeera when we galloped down the mountainside.”
I looked at her in surprise. “Why were you galloping down a mountain?”
She glanced at her horse again, like she was sorry she’d saidanything, but I was far too curious to let it go. “It was in the Ridgeline Foothills, nothing as steep as this,” she said, and even this raised my eyebrows. The foothills were outside of the Children’s territory. “We were being chased by a giant eagle—a mother defending her nest—and the only way we could escape was by going over the edge. Shazeera never faltered, but still, I wasn’t sure we’d make it.”
There were so many things in what she said that raised questions in me that I didn’t know where to start. So I went with the most unbelievable. “You saw a wild eagle?”
“You seem surprised.”
“I am, considering how dangerous wild eagles are, especially when defending their nests. I thought the Children of Earth did anything they could to avoid them.” Imagining this scenario had my muscles tensing again. It could have been disastrous—why would she risk such a thing?
She and her mare shared a look. “We do. It was a chance encounter—I didn’t go looking for it.”
“Still pretty reckless.”
She looked introspective for a moment and then seemed to decide to tell me more. “Sometimes I would go where the wind called me,” she admitted. “And at least the wild eagles tend to not eat our horses—unlike your aerial cavalry.”
Far below us, the crowd had quieted, waiting for the horn to sound and signal the beginning of the race.
“Neo would never do that. He doesn’t like the taste of horseflesh.”
“That’s wonderful,” she said with a nod and more than a little sarcasm. “That’s what keeps me from eating Zephyrians, too, you know. I know I won’t like the taste of your flesh. That’s the only thing stopping me from killing and eating you.”
I barely suppressed a laugh at her sardonic tone. “I’m thankful you’re not a meat eater, because you seem to be bloodthirsty,” I deadpanned.
She shot me a baleful glance before returning her attention to the race. The master of the race held a curved ram’s horn to his mouth, and as everyone leaned forward as one, he blew into it, the sound deep and long, echoing over the mountain.
Beside me, Zara gasped as the racers leaped down the mountain, the goats in free fall, their strong legs connecting with the rock for only a moment before launching into the air again, moving continuously downward.
We wouldn’t be able to watch for long, as they were racing beneath the cover of trees, but the riders and their mounts jockeyed each other for the best position. One goat leaped high to avoid the hooves of another and ended up tangled in the branches of a tree.
All too soon they’d disappeared beneath the cover of the forest, where even from our lofty position we couldn’t see them.
“That was incredible,” Zara said, a little breathlessly. There were high spots of color on her cheeks, and her eyes danced. For a moment, her beauty captivated me into a stupor.
“I haven’t watched a race in years,” I said as I watched the crowd still craning their necks for a glimpse at the racers.
“Too busy?” she asked, the question clearly loaded by the look in her eyes.
“Neo isn’t a fan of land races,” I said.
