Quinn nods. “I believe that now more than ever.”
The two of you sit in silence and watch as the storm approaches. You don’t have the ability to read Quinn’s thoughts as she can yours, but you can feel the one emotion that’s coursing through her like a river. She’s been so fearless since the very beginning. She’s saved you too many times to count. But now the girl who kept your chances alive is nervous.
“I mean it, Quinn. I plan on winning.”
Her voice is quiet. “I know.”
“And I intend to honor my pact with you either way.”
“Of course.”
You can’t help scowling. “Then why are you so unsettled? What is it?”
“I want to ask you a favor.”
The girl sits up. You can see the sharp outline of her spine through the back of her shirt. You’ve spent so much time thinking of her as a ghost that you haven’t really seen her as an actual person. Someone who exists in another world. And that world has worn her to the bone.
“Anything within my power is yours.”
She shakes her head in frustration. “This is not a small request.”
“Enlighten me, then,” you reply. “Quinn. I owe you a debt. You—”
You’ve opened my eyes. I am no longer just an Ashlord. I am more than what my parents would have me become. I am more than what this world craves. I am something new.
“Just tell me what it is.”
Quinn turns, eyes wide and ghostly. “I want some of your blood.” The words knock you square in the chest. It’s the last thing you expected her to ask for. She sees your reaction, too, and it has her pushing to her feet. “See what I mean? It is not a promise to make lightly.”
It takes you a second to regain your composure. The girl wants your blood. A memory of that dark, secret room in your parents’ house flickers to life. You can see the sharp blade and your own spilled blood. You can hear the howling of the Madness. A chill runs down your spine, but you can see Quinn is not joking. It’s taken a great deal of strength for her to request this.
“What will you do with it?”
Even as the words leave your lips, you know there’s something cold and transactional about them. Quinn has taught you to be more than that, but beneath the newness there are still layers of Ashlord. You know some of those characteristics are good. There are worthy ideals that your people value above all else. One of them is understanding the cost. Since the beginning of time, your people have understood the trade they make with the gods: Give blood, get power.
It’s a fair question.
“I would use it,” Quinn says bluntly. “The gods wield your blood in our world. If you win, I will revive. I will be their newest target. A few drops of your blood will go a long way. It will help me survive their initial hunt. I cannot lead a revolution in chains.”
You watch the girl carefully. There’s an honesty to her that’s rare in your own world. You’ve almost forgotten who she is, where she comes from. Quinn is from the underworld. The brutal realm of gods and demons and who knows what else. She’s spent her entire life as a slave, and yet she was the one who insisted on saving Etzli. She’s the one who believes in creating a better world, a better version of you. The silence stretches. Quinn takes it as rejection.
“Never mind,” she starts to say. “I will still—”
You lean back and reach into the saddlebags. There’s a skinning blade there. Every rider keeps one on hand for survival purposes out on the plains. You grit your teeth and transform it into a ceremonial dagger. The blade drags across the back of your finger. The blood gathers there. So little to you. So much to her. You hold your hand out to Quinn.
“Take what you need.”
She untucks a little rag from one pocket. Like her, the material feels insubstantial, there and not, as she presses it to your wound. It drinks in the steady drops. Quinn tucks it back into her belt and lunges toward you. Defensive instincts almost kick in before you realize it’s a hug. She wraps you in an embrace that somehow feels more real than anything Bravos ever gave you. The feeling of warmth and love almost takes your breath away. Your people do not hug.
“It’s moving,” Quinn says unexpectedly. “The numbers.”
You pull away long enough to eye your Race-standard bracelet. She’s right. Bravos’s lead is decreasing. You watch the number tick slowly back toward the distance that’s posted next to Revel’s name. At the same time, Adrian Ford approaches from the opposite direction. You’ve raced long enough to know they’re not actually riding their phoenixes, not at this hour of the night. The thought has you smiling. Adrian and Bravos have left their ashes unguarded.
“What does it mean?” Quinn asks.
You can’t help grinning.
“Boys and blood.”
The rain sweeps in through gaps in the branches overhead.
I’m taking a risk, but at this point in the Races, the winners always take risks. My ashes are vulnerable. Well hidden, but I’ve watched enough footage of the Races to know there’re no guarantees once you’re in the arena. It’s a risk I have to take. A glance down at my bracelet shows the distance to Revel ticking down. He’s not on the move, which means he’s entrenched somewhere. A second glance shows Bravos is moving. Backtracking toward us.
I tighten my grip on the baton.
A storm is coming.
Thunder shakes out overhead. Lightning briefly illuminates the gaps in the canopy. The desert forest is thick enough to act as a shield. Desert storms roll in quick and hard. Usually they’re dangerous because they strike before the victim can find proper refuge. Rain slicks the branches and puddles along the paths. It’ll make tomorrow’s first leg trickier, but I shove all thought of tomorrow aside. I need to be sharp in the here and now. Tonight is all that matters.
These forests are not empty. Desert birds roost above. The rain brings out groans and protests from the smaller creatures that have survived long enough to call this place home. Every shaking leaf catches my attention. Where did Revel go? The number on my bracelet flatlines. We’re standing the exact same distance from the finish line now.
I glance right, then left.
The answer comes from a dangling, half-snapped branch. It’s not easy to lead a phoenix off the path without notice. Revel went that way. I slide back into motion and follow the other clues. There’s still movement on my bracelet. Bravos is closing in on the location, too. I eye the forest on my right. It says he’s just seventy paces that way, but the shadows are too thick.
I need to find Revel first.