18 #2
Asta looked Flávia directly in the eye. The flat light of the meeting room made her face look closed off and severe. Asta half wished that her words worked like an enchanter’s charm, and saying them would tame that unruly part of herself that seemed to bring all this trouble down on her head.
‘Why would I do it? Just to get a thrill? To prove something? It’s not worth it.’
But it was. Every time she got on Carmine’s back, and they left the ground, and all she could hear was his wings and his breath and hers, it was all worth it.
If she was standing there in that depot again with Hummer and Tru and the rest of the Bruces, and they were offering her a race, would she choose differently?
Of course not. She would ride. She would always ride.
‘Please.’ Asta could feel everyone’s eyes on her. ‘Please let me race.’
‘Flávia, I apologize for the interruption.’ All the heads in the room turned.
It was Peter Seraphin. Standing, he fastened the button on his suit jacket.
He was like a CEO addressing his board, confident that they would rubber-stamp whatever he brought before them.
Beside him, Felix looked far less comfortable.
He was sitting on the edge of his chair, his toes on the ground, ready to spring to his feet at any moment.
Flávia’s face softened as she looked at Felix, but her eyes, lifting to his father, were quizzical. ‘What is it, Peter?’
Peter Seraphin put a hand on his son’s shoulder. ‘Felix was insistent that we come and speak on behalf of Ms. Ekenberg. If you don’t mind, I’ll do that now. Though I cannot vouch for the company she keeps.’
He turned his haughty eyes on the Bruces, several rows ahead of them. Hummer crossed his arms over his stomach and dipped his chin to break Peter’s gaze, a sour smirk on his face. Tru made a rather rude gesture, first with one hand, then with the other, in slow succession.
‘I can affirm that Ms. Ekenberg is a dedicated rider with a great deal of natural talent. I have known her since she was a child, and her interest in racing professionally, as she has already asserted, has been unwavering in that time.’
He glanced down at Asta, who was twisted in her seat to look at him. He wore the same expression as always. The only time his face did not look like this – his strong jaw set, and his brow just a little furrowed, as if deep in contemplation – was when he was on the back of a dragon.
Riding, his face would open up like a moonflower at dusk.
It was the only time Asta could remember seeing him laugh.
It was the only time he expressed any emotion at all, really.
He would ride out in the fields with them and shout instructions as he ran the course he had set up for the day’s training.
When he missed a jump, he would curse and grimace and go back to do it again, determination making his eyes blaze.
The rest of the time, he looked just like he looked now.
Little changes in his mouth were the only way to tell whether he was pleased or disappointed, bored or nervous.
At this moment, his mouth formed a slight, pursed frown.
He did not want to be here, Asta thought.
Peter Seraphin would happily let her get kicked out of the tournament like she had been kicked out of Pillar.
So why had Felix brought him here? Some kind of power trip, no doubt, to remind her how important his family was. Or maybe this, too, was Pikki’s doing – another attempt to mess with Asta’s head. If so, it was a masterstroke. Asta’s brain felt like it was turning somersaults.
Peter looked at his friend Flávia, and his mouth twisted uncertainly. ‘Now, I don’t know what happened the other night. Given what we know about this set,’ he nodded to Hummer and Tru, ‘it seems more than likely that the infraction was committed as Pikki has suggested.’
‘Prove it, dickwad,’ Tru muttered.
‘But in Asta’s case, at least, I would urge leniency.’
‘She’s a good girl, Flávia,’ Sofia Seraphin added in her velveteen voice, rising beside her husband.
‘She’s just impressionable, that’s all. Her family are not worldly folks, you know.
She wasn’t prepared for the likes of . .
.’ She glanced furtively at the Bruces, as if she was afraid that she herself might be infected by their depravity if she looked at them too long.
Her words bothered Asta. Was this how Mrs. Seraphin saw her? Unsophisticated and helpless? A spineless doll that was being passed from one powerful racing family to another with no say in her own fate? It was humiliating, being spoken of that way.
Natalia caught Asta’s eye. She mouthed the phrase – the likes of – and pointed at herself with surprise. Nat shook her head in a show of righteous disapproval meant to mimic Sofia’s, and Asta almost cracked a smile.
She looked back at the Seraphins and found Felix’s eyes already on her. He looked – she didn’t know what. She couldn’t read him at all. But his eyes were focused on her with an unsettling intensity. Asta turned front again.
Flávia cleared her throat. All along the table, her fellow officials raised their eyebrows and shook their heads in acknowledgement of the grand mess before them. Eyes closed, Tess Curie stretched back in her chair and let out a loud, groaning sigh.
Flávia folded her hands under her chin and spoke directly to Asta and Nat, eyes darting back and forth between them.
‘We are going to need a moment to consult. You may step into the hall, but please do not go far. We will let you know our decision imminently.’ She expanded her address to the others in the room.
‘Peter, Sofia, Ms. Lowell, thank you for your input. You are free to depart at your leisure, though I must ask you to vacate the room.’
Pikki stood abruptly and walked for the door, but she had to pause for Hummer, who was hoisting himself noisily from his chair with a series of stiff gyrations that occupied most of the aisle.
He gave a start when he found Pikki standing there, waiting for him to clear the way, though Asta knew him well enough to know that this was an elaborate performance. He had blocked her path on purpose.
‘Pardon me, my dear,’ Hummer said with a crude imitation of courtly manners.
But he did not move to let Pikki by. Instead, he looked her over with a sharp glance that sliced up and down the length of her.
Pikki inched backwards. ‘It was a bold move, missy, coming for the Bruces. I’ll give you that. ’
‘I wasn’t . . . I wasn’t coming for anyone.’ Pikki’s fingers worried the bottom snap of her jacket. ‘I only reported a valid complaint to the Silverscale authorities.’
Hummer nodded sagely. ‘Oh, if that’s all, then it’s okay. Isn’t it?’
Tru had come up alongside Hummer. She was still standing between the chairs, and her large-knuckled hands gripped the chairback in front of her.
‘Forgive and forget,’ she said. ‘Isn’t that what Grandmama used to say?’
‘Vengeful old bitch, she was,’ Hummer mused.
‘Sure, but that’s what she used to say, wasn’t it?’
Hummer nodded to his sister. ‘Forgive and forget. Said it all the time.’
Tru gave Pikki a squashed-looking smile that was anything but reassuring.
‘Please get out of my way,’ Pikki said. That was her trying to sound authoritative, Asta thought, but she had not been able to shake that little whine of fear from her voice.
Hummer backed up to let her pass, crooking his arms and ducking his head like a servant, deferent before his mistress.
‘Well,’ Gem said to Asta, apparently unaware of the drama going on by the door. ‘It sounds like it won’t take too long, at least.’
Asta followed him into the aisle. ‘I’m sorry, Gem.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ There was a weariness in his voice that cut straight to Asta’s heart.
They found a place to stand in the too bright hallway, a few paces from the meeting room door.
The muted noise of the track was louder out here, amplified as it was by the hard acrylic polish of the corridor floors, streaked with shoe marks.
There were doors at uneven intervals along the hall, each marked with a small placard.
Asta wondered what these rooms were used for.
Press, maybe. Offices. She was too far from the placards to read any of them.
Pikki had disappeared around the corner before Asta even made it out of the room. Asta saw Tru and Hummer standing together across the hall exchanging a few words, then Tru left as well, with her hands shoved deep into the pockets of her blazer.
Nat had been leaning against the wall, but she slid down to sit on the floor, letting her legs – clad in fire-print neon-orange tights and leather shorts – extend in front of her when she reached the ground.
Asta thought about sitting, too, but she wasn’t sure her bruised body would let her get back up without making a scene.
She needed a hot bath and some more painkillers.
The Seraphins were clustered ten feet down the hallway.
Peter Seraphin had his hand on Felix’s shoulder again and seemed to be trying to persuade him to come with them, but Felix shook his head and slid his shoulder out from under his father’s hand.
Sofia gripped the handles of her purse and spoke to Felix in a soft voice.
Asta couldn’t hear her words, only her mollifying tone.
But whatever she said didn’t work. Felix stood his ground, and his mother looped her arm through Peter’s and clicked off down the hallway, her heels loud on the hard surface.
Felix returned, head high, coming toward the place where Asta and Gem stood. Gem pushed off from the wall where he had been leaning, as if he meant to give them a little space, but Asta reached out and grabbed the corner of his color-blocked windbreaker.
‘Don’t leave,’ she said under her breath.
‘Chicken.’ Gem pulled his jacket back from her grip and resumed his lean against the wall.
Felix halted in front of Gem and Asta. He gave Gem a brief nod, which Gem returned.