The showman smiles. “I’m really not sure I’ve heard anything about a catchphrase.”
Incredulous look, wink at the audience, wide smile.
“Really? And I thought you were the kind of guy who knew things.” Second wide smile. “Let’s see if my real fans know it: I totally believe in luck. In fact, the harder I work…”
Raise an eyebrow to cue the audience.
Everyone shouts, “The more I have of it!”
Maxim claps his hands and smiles. Your publicist found that quote in some gods-awful library up north. The team ran through catchphrases for hours before settling on that one. You know they’ll be filling back orders on the glittering T-shirts you designed for weeks to come. Your father said you should be more focused on training than sales, but you’ve always been a best-of-both-worlds kind of girl.
“Pippa,” Maxim says, leaning conspiratorially close. “If we’re being honest, last year’s event was overshadowed by the knowledge that you would be eligible for the Races this year. It doesn’t mean we weren’t entertained, but we were simply ecstatic to get to this year’s ride. Everyone was very pleased when you decided to submit your name in your first qualifying year. Was there any pushback on that?”
Amusement, a shake of the head, firm voice.
“Not at all, Maxim. My father preached caution in the past, but after seeing me in training sessions and on the amateur circuit, he withdrew those concerns. It’s pretty clear now that I’m ready. As the daughter of two former champions, this is in my blood. I’m not here to put on a good show or smile for the cameras, Maxim. I’m here to win.”
“As sharp as your mother and as fiery as your father!” He looks back to the audience. “I’m glad you’re up to the challenge. We’ve been looking forward to this, so much so that we just set the record for audience calls! Ready to field your fans’ biggest questions, Pippa?”
Soft smile, playful wink. “Of course, Maxim.”
“All right, let’s get to it!”
The interviewing mannequin shimmers. Maxim’s tie disappears and a woman with a bright-red scarf and square-framed glasses replaces him. You smile as your first caller lets out a rather hideous squeal and wiggles with delight in her seat.
“It’s actually you! You! Here! In front of me!”
You smile wider. “Pippa, at your service.”
“Well, I just had to ask you about what happened with Bravos.”
Show a flash of anger. Follow with a playful front. Respond with a question.
“I thought he’d come up tonight. What did you want to know about Bravos?”
You keep your smile steady as a knife. Only two days ago, you and Bravos put on quite a performance for your dinner guests. He contradicted you on something. You pointed out how boring his tie was. It wasn’t long before the Chats were full of rumors about Furia’s favorite couple. Were they really breaking up?
“Well,” the fan says. “I’ve followed your romance since day one on the Chats! So hot and steamy and just, I don’t know, fun. But the reports claim it’s over. Say it isn’t so.”
“It is so.” Every audience member punches their gasp buttons. The room fills with robotic sadness and you’re careful to let it die down before continuing. “Bravos and I had our time. But in a few weeks, he becomes my enemy. Anyone standing between me and the finish line can only ever be that: an enemy.”
You know the words are lifted directly from your father’s first interview. The publicity team concluded you looked soft in the eyes of other contestants and that you needed to adopt some of your father’s intensity. Loom larger and look wilder. It was easier to take Father’s words and carve your own threats out of them.
The fan nods sympathetically before the interviewing mannequin goes blank again. There’s a lottery shuffle of faces and clothes before a thin man with dark eyebrows and a severely angled face appears. You smile as his eyes widen in surprise.
“Oh dear gods.”
You laugh. “A mere mortal most days. What’s your question?”
He blinks before speaking. “I was wondering about your training. The Chats say you were in Baybou last week and the Sunsickle Islands before that. Some of the other contestants post training videos every day. Are you really as prepared as Etzli or Revel?”
Bite the lip, exasperated sigh, firm eyes.
“I saw a few of those videos. Impressive, but nothing I saw in any of them has me worried. I’m one of three contestants riding a pureborn phoenix. I went to Baybou to get him accustomed to the thinner air. Then I visited the Sunsickle Islands so I could practice quick water and land transitions. People only ever see the pictures of me sunbathing on the beach or attending Crossing matches, but every hour in between the stolen photos is spent training. I’m ready, sir, and any competitor who thinks I’m not is just giving me one more way to beat them.”
Applause buttons flood the room with noise. The next fan doesn’t look a day over twelve. But she doesn’t stutter through a question or shake with nerves. She’s focused, a young Ashlord girl who looks like she’s trying to learn a valuable lesson from a worthy teacher.
“Pippa,” she enunciates clearly. “How are you going to handle the Longhand?”
Nod seriously, keep chin raised, show no fear.
“So you saw that announcement yesterday?” Proud smile, little wink. “I suppose the entire Empire’s heard about Adrian Ford by now. Looks big, doesn’t he?”
The girl gives a nod, grinning. “I wouldn’t want to wrestle him.”
You laugh. “Me neither. Fortunately, this isn’t a wrestling match. It’s the Races. Adrian made a lot of noise yesterday, but remember, that’s all thunder ever is. Noise. It’s the lightning you have to worry about. Ever seen a good storm out on the plains?” The girl nods. “You always see the strikes before you hear the boom. That’s how I’ll handle the Longhand. I’ll ride hard and I won’t look back. I’ll be in the distance, and he’ll just be the noise that follows.”
The girl nods like she’s the lightning, too.
“Besides, we know the Longhands aren’t accustomed to winning.”
That draws a laugh from the crowd. You watch the mannequin spin through an endless sea of faces. It stops on a fourth fan. Pretty eyes, round face, hair styled short like most middle-aged women in Furia. She doesn’t smile and she isn’t nervous.
“Pippa, I wanted to know something.” The voice isn’t familiar, but you hear something in her tone that’s like a second language. Your fame has negative consequences, too. It comes with denouncers and haters. You know the kind of words that always dance with a tone like this one. “How many Beholder shots did you pose for? How many marriages are you planning on ruining as you put yourself out there for money? Do you have any idea how it makes us feel?”