15 #2
Nat slipped into Torque’s place, facing Asta. ‘I was just coming for Vulture, then I was going to find you. Thought we’d do a few rounds out back.’ She jerked a thumb at the exercise grounds behind the housing unit.
Nat had on what she usually wore for training – black leggings and a tight pullover.
The only makeup she was wearing was what was left over from yesterday, smudged around her eyes as if she had not even washed her face this morning.
Her expression was open, unruffled. She had dropped the role of iconoclastic Bruce princess for the moment.
It would be so easy to believe that, underneath it all, the real Nat was just this mess of a woman – flighty, free-spirited, reckless, but nothing more sinister than that.
But Asta couldn’t stop thinking about the card in her pocket.
Nat had to know her uncle was strong-arming people on her behalf, right?
Torque understood immediately what the note meant – or what it implied, anyway.
Could Nat just close her eyes to it? But Asta had.
She really had thought she was there as Nat’s training partner, nothing more.
She thought the loan to get to Silverscale was a kindness.
It’s possible Nat had turned a blind eye – that, or, she was in on it.
The thought sent a chill through Asta. Maybe Nat’s job all along was to make Asta comfortable, pretend to be her friend, keep her complacent.
Was that what yesterday had been about? Had she been tasked with keeping Asta busy in bed while one of her cousins sneaked in with the flowers and her instructions?
But instructions for what, Asta still didn’t know. Asta felt like she was going to puke.
‘No,’ Asta said. Her throat felt dry, and she tried to clear it. ‘No, sorry. I’m going to go watch the drake races.’
‘Come on.’ Nat’s tone was wheedling. ‘I’m more fun than a bunch of stupid drakes.’
The sound of the horn drifted over to them, as the first semifinal race began. The crowd’s cheering buzzed through the whole Horizons complex, and the dragons in the stables stirred and snorted. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Nat.’
Nat made a face. ‘Tomorrow? I was hoping we’d hang out tonight.’ She looked Asta up and down shamelessly. ‘We could invite Golden Boy. If you’re going to race each other tomorrow, you’ll need something to break the tension, right?’
At the mention of Felix, Asta’s pulse quickened. It took her another second to realize what Nat had just said. ‘They posted the rosters?’
‘Yup,’ Nat said. ‘I got the first semi. You got the second.’
‘And I’m racing Felix?’
‘So hot.’
The thought of it turned Asta’s brain to putty. Asta found it ironic that the papers had been full of handwringing over whether she might distract Felix during the tournament, as if he wasn’t doing the same to her.
At least she wasn’t in Nat’s heat. Whatever it was the Bruces were asking of her, she couldn’t do it if they weren’t in the same race.
If she was lucky, Nat wouldn’t make it out of the semifinals.
Not so lucky for Nat. Whatever the punishment for losing in the semis, Asta had to assume it would be worse than baptism in the river.
‘I gotta go,’ Asta said, and headed down the walkway to the main avenue.
‘Think about it!’ Nat called after her. ‘You, me, and Golden Boy!’
Asta walked in a daze. The clouds had begun releasing little spits of rain, and she pulled the hood of her sweatshirt up to shield herself from the cold drizzle.
Felix was waiting for Asta at the door of her suite.
He was pressed against the wall, making use of the overhang above to block the rain, which was really picking up now.
His cream-white denim jacket, its collar turned against the damp, and slim-cut jeans were so close to the color of the stucco wall as to make him appear almost ghostly. He straightened when he saw Asta.
Whatever he had prepared for his opening line dropped away as she got closer. ‘Dude. You look pretty rough.’
‘Screw you,’ she snapped, too stressed and anxious to soften her tone. ‘I almost died yesterday.’
He winced. ‘I saw that. Are you okay?’
‘I’m alive. What do you want?’
His eyes searched her face. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’
Asta eyed him warily. ‘Never been better. It’s a beautiful day.’
Felix looked dubiously at the sky.
Three and a half years of silence, and apparently, they were talking again.
She wasn’t doing a good job of showing it, but she was glad he was here, still talking to her after everything.
Foolish as she felt about it, she was coming to terms with the fact that she still wanted him in her life, still wanted whatever this was between them.
But why did he want it? He was Felix Seraphin.
The whole world wanted to be his friend. He didn’t need her.
Asta sighed. ‘If you don’t mind, I’m getting soaked.’ She went inside, leaving the door open behind her.
Felix followed her in. He closed the door, and the patter of the rain quieted into a muted and inobtrusive drumming that saved them from the awkwardness of total silence.
He took a seat in one of the black leather chairs while Asta peeled off her rain-patched sweatshirt, the left side of her back aching with the motion, and spread it on the foot of the bed to dry.
She brushed through her hair with her fingers and took a seat in the other chair, groaning as she kicked her socked feet up on the coffee table.
She might as well get to the point. ‘Why are you here, Felix?’
But he wouldn’t stop looking at her, his face worried. ‘Something’s weird about you. Weirder than usual. Is something going on with the Bruces?’
She had wanted someone who knew her, didn’t she? He was reading her like an open book. But she still didn’t know why he was here, and until she did, Asta wasn’t about to start spilling her guts.
‘If anyone is being weird, it’s you,’ she told him.
‘I just want to talk. How is that weird?’
Asta wasn’t about to make this easy for him.
‘You’ve been weird since we got here. “I’m Felix Seraphin.
”’ Asta’s voice turned mocking. ‘“Hurray, everyone’s here to watch me win. Who cares about a small-time racer like Asta Ekenberg?” “Why, thank you, Ms. Gameiro.”’ Asta exaggerated the name.
‘“Yes, I would like to tell everyone how hard my life has been as the crown prince of racing.”’
‘Knock it off,’ Felix said.
But Asta pushed herself out of the chair and stood, hands on hips, like she was posing for the camera. ‘“Everyone look at me! Everyone write stories about me! Quick, someone take my picture. Don’t wanna waste this.”’ She waved her hand at her face.
‘You think I enjoy any of that?’ Felix blurted. ‘I hate it. You know that I hate it!’
‘Ah, but you’re a Seraphin,’ she answered, shrugging. ‘This is what you were born for.’
The look he gave her was full of so much hurt and anger that Asta wished she could take the words back.
Felix took a deep breath. ‘I am not going to do this, Asta. I won’t feel bad for being who I am.’
Asta was unmoved. This wasn’t really about fame or his family. It was about who he had let himself become. He had turned into a jerk, and he couldn’t deny it.
‘Feel whatever you want. Do whatever you want. You always do anyway.’ Asta made her way stiffly to the kitchenette. She opened the fridge.
Even now – two minutes into this conversation and both of them with their dander up – Asta was glad that they were talking.
It was like they were testing each other out, seeing how far they could go before the other one cracked.
They were trying to see, she thought, how much of their old relationship was still there.
They were getting close to saying the truth to each other. She could feel it. Closer than they had gotten since they arrived here. Maybe it was finally time. But the idea of saying the whole truth scared her, and she didn’t know how to start.
‘You want something to drink?’ she asked instead.
Felix shook his head. She cracked open a bottle of mineral water and watched the illusion of her and Carmine on the Needle for a few cycles before speaking again.
Just tell him the truth, she told herself. See what happens.
She gritted her teeth. ‘I really do need to win this thing.’