8 #3
Then he smiled, and those little curved lines, which she had noticed on the first day they met, sprung up at the corners of his mouth. No wonder he got away with everything. She couldn’t help herself. She smiled back, then laughed.
Felix turned from her and beamed his smile up to the stands.
The immediate response from the crowd was so loud that it felt like it would collapse Asta’s chest. Of course, Asta thought, of course that’s what this was.
She had wrangled one moment of attention for herself tonight, and he couldn’t resist. He had to turn the spotlight back on himself.
At least no one would dare punish the darling of the Grand Prix.
And if they didn’t come for him, they wouldn’t come for her, either.
All around the raceway – from the peak of the mountain in the middle of the course, the overhang above the upper stands, and the walls on the far sides of the pits – fireworks exploded in a thunderous cloud of light, color, and smoke.
Several of the dragons around the track bolted and had to be coaxed back to their anchor points by their riders.
The music swelled, the screens flashed, and the crowd cheered.
The opening ceremonies had come to an end.
Almost immediately, the track was flooded with reporters.
Most of them pressed around Felix and Essie, but a handful of curious journalists peeled off that dense mob to lob a few questions at the woman who had just made such a spectacle of herself.
What was her name? Her ranking? How long had she been competing?
Was she hoping to get picked up by one of the racing houses after the tournament?
The questions came faster than Asta could think. Every moment, it seemed like there were more reporters joining the crowd, demanding that she answer them. Carmine sensed her discomfort and shifted uneasily beneath her. With relief, Asta spotted a familiar face in the gaggle at her feet.
‘Asta! How did you and Felix come up with the idea for the stunt?’ Allie Vorajee called up to her. At the mention of Felix’s name, a flutter of interest spread through the crowd.
‘We didn’t plan it.’ Asta glanced in Felix’s direction.
‘You must have planned it,’ another reporter said, his tone almost combative. ‘It was the exact same trick.’
‘I just mean we didn’t plan it ahead of time,’ Asta said. She wasn’t good at this. She needed time to think about what she wanted to say, but that’s not how this worked. ‘It’s called the Running Corkscrew.’
Several voices shouted follow-up questions. Was it for training? Would she use it in competition?
Asta was flustered. ‘It’s just something we used to do as kids. We were neighbors.’ A few heads in the press crowd shot up and others bent down as they began scribbling notes.
Allie looked happy enough to faint. ‘Neighbors! I love that!’ They started to ask a question, but it was lost in the mayhem of shouting from the other reporters.
Natalia trotted up behind the reporters on Vulture. The dragon, her body as dark as wet earth and her head a dull bronze, fidgeted restlessly, but Nat held her in place.
‘No more questions!’ she hollered. Her voice was commanding, authoritative. Several of the reporters glanced over their shoulders. Nat motioned for Asta to join her.
Asta smiled apologetically at Allie and urged Carmine forward. The reporters scattered out of his path like skittish sheep.
‘Are you allowed to do that?’ Felix called over the heads of the press. ‘You just say “no more questions” and they leave you alone?’
He was joking, and the reporters laughed, but Asta heard an edge in his voice.
Apparently, Nat did too. ‘You can if you want to, Golden Boy. Free will. Come with us. I dare you.’
‘Oh, for real?’ Felix said. He looked at the reporters. ‘Let’s see. Okay, you heard the lady, no more questions!’ There was more laughter – an uncomfortable tinge to it this time. Felix pulled Essie close so that he could speak to Nat and Asta at a normal volume. ‘Where are we going?’
‘Who knows?’ Nat said. ‘Maybe we’ll paint the town red. Maybe we’ll burn it down.’
His face registered three different emotions at once.
‘Felix,’ called a heavy voice. It was the kind of voice that took its time over every syllable.
The kind of voice that made children sit still and adults grow quiet.
It was the voice of Peter Seraphin, Felix’s father.
He rode up beside them on his old green-mottled dragon with a feathered crest, the same one Asta had seen him ride through her telescope when the Seraphins first came to Medley.
Felix met his father’s gaze, and his face hardened. He backed Essie away a few steps, back in the direction of the reporters. ‘I can’t disappoint my fans,’ he said to Nat, trying to sound jovial. ‘Maybe next time.’
‘Coward,’ Nat said.
But Felix was already back in front of the cameras. He and his father leaned toward each other, their gyroscopic saddles compensating for the tilt. They grasped hands in a preemptive victory pose as the cameras clicked and flashed.
‘Let’s go,’ Nat said, and she steered Vulture down the track toward the nearest gate.