14 #3
Satisfied that he had reclaimed his rightful place, Carmine leapt from the Needle, and they coasted back down to the track, which was already mobbed with reporters and photographers, the last teams having crossed the finish line while Carmine made his display.
Asta brushed off the questions being shouted at her and ignored the cameras. She brought Carmine to the pit and handed him over to Torque. She pulled off her helmet and gloves and looked up at the screens expectantly.
‘Did they already show the times?’ she asked Gem, once he had stopped hugging her neck.
He shook his head.
Something was wrong. Her name should be up there in first place with her race time.
The screen changed from a wide shot of the track to a close-up of a marshal in a checkered shirt.
‘The judges have called for a review of the race. Results will be posted once the review is complete.’
A murmur of intrigue shivered through the stands.
‘It’s got to be the pile-up,’ Gem said.
The screens switched to show the footage that the judges were reviewing. Gem was right.
Asta’s eyes were locked on the screen. It was bizarre to watch the scene from the camera’s point of view. It was so detached. But to her, it felt like she was living it again.
She watched as the first dragon fell, then another.
She watched Nat dart out of the way. She saw herself and Carmine swerve to avoid being steamrolled by a big white dragon, only to be caught by the gold dragon as it fell.
The sight of the gold dragon taking her out of the saddle turned her stomach.
No wonder she felt like a smoking pile of dragon crap.
The footage stopped, reversed, and pushed in on her and Carmine.
A wash of horror passed over Asta. At the moment when the neck of the dragon hit her full in the chest, there was a visible gap between her and the saddle.
Had she come off? She would soon have the bruises down the left side of her body to prove that she had remained in contact with Carmine’s body from that point forward, but if she had been fully separated from him for even a second, she would be disqualified.
Gasps and shouts of disbelief rippled through the crowd.
‘Oh god, Asta,’ Gem cried. ‘You weren’t tethered.’ He was blaming himself, Asta knew. She should comfort him. Tell him that this little oversight had saved her life. But she couldn’t look away from the screens.
The footage replayed. Once. Twice. Asta watched herself dragged back again and again. And every time, that damn gap of daylight flashing between her and the saddle.
She could guess what they were saying on the broadcast right now. This just isn’t the day for Number 99, is it, Vern?
Barely made it on the track in time for the start and then barely made it past the first turn.
Not exactly the world-class racing we’re used to seeing at Silverscale, is it?
After an agonizing moment, the screens switched to the second angle.
The playback slowed again and pushed in.
Asta’s right shin, obscured in the first shot, remained firmly in contact with Carmine’s side, even as she was torn from the saddle.
By the narrowest definition of the rule, she had stayed on her dragon.
The marshal reappeared on the screen to announce the review complete, but his words were drowned out by the roar of celebration from the crowd. Beside the marshal’s face, the screen had changed to show the top ten finishers, with Asta at the head of the list.
Asta dropped to the track, her body no longer able to hold her up. Gem crouched and put his arm around her as she sobbed.
Gem shook her shoulders. ‘You did it! You did it! Asta, you did it!’
She could not speak. She just laughed and cried.
But in her mind, she could not stop seeing the gold dragon’s neck.
It seemed to be permanently implanted there, behind her eyes.
She could have died. She almost did. Her thoughts flew to the race at the exercise grounds yesterday and the look of fear on Felix’s face.
Had he watched this race? Had he been afraid for her?
Suddenly, a strange quiet settled on the track. Asta looked up to see that the screen had changed again. Two riders’ faces appeared above the track, a black banner over the top of the screen. Milo Moon and Leia Oppel. The casualties.
Slowly, a cheer began to build in the stands. They were saying their names, chanting them one after the other.
Asta looked up at Leia’s smiling face. Her throat tightened.
She was dead. Leia was dead. It didn’t seem real.
Just yesterday, they were debating the merits of being slandered by the press, and now Leia was dead.
The only reason Asta wasn’t lying right next to her on the track was dumb luck. There was no logic to it.
Asta felt terrible that she hadn’t even noticed Leia at the starting line. Distracted as she was, she hadn’t realized they were in the same heat and hadn’t looked for her. It seemed an added cruelty. All Leia wanted was to be noticed.
She would not be forgotten, Asta thought sadly. Not today. Today, everyone knew her name.
How does it feel, she wanted to ask, to finally get what you always wanted?
Movement drew her focus back to the track. Asta saw three people approaching her at the same time: Allie Vorajee, Natalia Bruce, and Dr. Isley. Nat got to her first.
‘I almost had you, Ek!’ She was smiling, but Asta could hear the bitterness in her voice. Would she have been happier if it was Asta’s face up there?
‘Asta, you were incredible!’ Allie said, coming at her with eyes bright. ‘I have to know—’
But Dr. Isley spoke over the top of the reporter’s eager question. ‘Shame on you, Asta Ekenberg!’ His hands were in tight fists, as if he was about to challenge Asta to a fight.
Asta felt like she was right back in his office at Pillar on the day she was expelled. But this time, she didn’t know what she had done.
‘What the hell,’ Nat said, staring at Dr. Isley in surprise. ‘Who the fuck are you?’
Dr. Isley ignored Nat. His eyes were on Asta. ‘You are responsible for what happened today. You were distracted and unprepared. That’s exactly how things like this happen. Nothing has changed. Nothing!’
Asta recoiled from the force of his anger. ‘Dr. Isley, I—’
‘If you aren’t ready, you don’t race. You were taught better.’
He was talking to her like some headstrong and wicked child. She hated that he could still make her feel like that. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, the words cold against her teeth.
‘Your apologies are meaningless, Asta.’ He wheeled and pointed. ‘There are consequences!’ A pair of ambulances made their way out the main gate of the raceway slowly and solemnly, their passengers in no need of haste. ‘Milo Moon was a good man!’
Asta’s heart sank. She had rushed Carmine out of the pits. She remembered him rearing, right at the start. What if Dr. Isley was right? What if he had spooked the other dragons?
‘Wait, what?’ Nat said, squinting at Dr. Isley. ‘You’re saying that was Asta’s fault? What race were you watching?’
But Asta knew he wasn’t really talking about today.
He was talking about the accident three and a half years ago.
All the guilt that Felix had tried to lay on her during their race at the exercise grounds came rushing at her now, as if it had been following her around, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
‘Nat, it’s okay—’
‘No, it’s not! Dr. Ass-ly here is a freaking liar. It wasn’t your fault.’
Dr. Isley flared his nostrils and ground his hands together.
‘It was. She came on to the track late and clearly unprepared, and she unsettled the field. Furthermore, she was not tethered. The win, such as it was, is a technicality. Her equipment is subpar, barely sufficient to meet regulation. Having her on the course is a danger to every other rider.’
‘I didn’t hurt anyone,’ Asta murmured, but it was Asta who felt like the liar. She had hurt someone. Not today. But she had.
Nat wasn’t done. ‘It was the fucking regulation equipment that caused the problem in the first place. The first dragon that fell got tangled in its own damned leg guards. Fancy as hell, and look what happened. You saw the replay. If Asta had been tethered, she’d be dead.
So you can take your regulation equipment and shove it straight up your rectum sideways. ’
Asta watched Allie’s face transmute from wide-eyed shock to utter delight. Nat was going to make the papers today, too, Asta figured.
Maybe Asta had been wrong about Nat.
She replayed the previous evening in her head. What’s to say that wasn’t just Nat being Nat? Asta could have gone home if she wanted to. It wasn’t malicious. There was no conspiracy.
The fact was, when the chips were down, Nat had her back. She had not left her on her own. And right now, that’s all that Asta wanted.
Asta followed Nat back to her room and this time did not stop her when she pulled the zipper of her jumpsuit down and stepped her out of it.
She let Nat touch her blooming bruises with gentle fingertips.
She did not say no when she led her to the shower and pushed her in.
Nat ran the water so hot that Asta’s skin turned red where it touched her, but the pain felt good, like pushing back the fire hedge with a burst of dragon flame.