CHAPTER TWENTY #2
‘I can do it.’ I reached for the first swab. The last thing I wanted was to feel like I owed him anything.
‘You couldn’t find your nose right now if you tried.’ He brandished a small cloth at me. It smelled of the aggressively clean liquid used to disinfect wounds.
I shifted my focus to replay the race in my head, to avoid the feelings of the physical world. The sting on my cheek that I felt to the bone. The warmth of his fingers as they brushed my rain-matted hair out of the way.
I needed a better distraction.
‘You didn’t have to get involved.’ An argument would work.
‘I know.’ He dabbed around my eye with a fresh cloth. His eyes danced as they tracked the line of bruises. He wasn’t in an arguing mood.
Challenge accepted. ‘You’re awful in a fight anyway.’
I saw the familiar mischievous light appear in his eyes. ‘Then you must be worse, judging from the mess your face has turned into.’
‘Well, it’s not a moneymaker like yours.’ It was intended as an insult, but his dimples appeared and his shoulders shook with a laugh. I’d missed my mark.
‘This is why you shouldn’t get into fights, Paldon. You need to protect your valuables.’
It was my turn to laugh, this time in victory. ‘Hypocrite, much? I know why I was fighting. What’s your excuse?’
‘I was protecting what I value,’ he said, not pausing as he dabbed at my eye.
I rolled my eyes, then flinched as another cut was cleaned.
‘Hey.’ He held my chin lightly with one hand. ‘Stop making it worse.’
He may have been admonishing me, but there was a gentleness to him that I’d never seen before.
Not only in his words, but the way his hands had softened as he swapped the cloth for a patch.
He placed it along the cut on my cheek delicately.
Light fingertips slid along the edges, pressing the gauze into place with as little pressure as possible.
His touch left behind a trail of warmth, his presence lingering on my skin. My tiredness changed. The deep ache that was keeping me on the edge of passing out was replaced with a drowsy comfort that tempted me to close my eyes and lean forward, to drift off some place safe.
‘How’s that?’ he asked, removing his hands. My face was cold without them.
‘Great.’ I cleared my throat. ‘I didn’t feel a thing.’
I was locked in a windowless room being tortured.
A sharp change from being surrounded by my friends in the aviary, but at least in here I was free of Theo’s strange effect on me, one that I had put down to being repeatedly hit in the head.
It felt like an age since Martan had escorted me in, but in all that time the Kiestral PR manager had yet to get to his point.
I’d been bracing myself for the final blow: their decision to fire me.
Or, Thorne’s decision given how confident he was that it was all over.
Yet, while my focus waned and my energy reserves dwindled Martan just kept talking, brandishing his clipboard as he paced back and forth.
‘In the interview you’ll need to be clear, but without details.’
‘Wait, what?’ The heavy dread lightened ever so slightly.
‘I’m not asking you to lie.’ He took a break from wearing a stripe into the polished floor. ‘But it would be appreciated if you could … be a team player.’
‘I’m still with the team?’ I didn’t dare blink to miss Martan’s answer.
He nodded. A single curt nod that changed everything.
‘The injuries Bach sustained in today’s race will take him out of action for a while, without him—’
It was the first time I’d ever heard Martan cut himself off. It didn’t matter that he had though. I knew what he was going to say. Without Bach Kiestral wouldn’t stand a chance of finishing on the podium.
‘You want me to replace Bach Lotiere?’ This was the most unbelievable thing to happen since I’d put on Thorne’s suit. Even if it meant I got to race again, the idea that I would be doing so without my hero leading the way was unfathomable.
‘Temporarily.’ Martan was quick to clarify. ‘If you comply with what the team needs.’
‘Gottyk?’ I couldn’t articulate the whole question quickly enough. I needed to know if I’d be flying with him again.
‘Yes.’ Another nod.
Relief washed over me, finally releasing the tension I’d been holding. As the joy began to build though, a sobering thought ruined it.
‘So … I’ll be teammates with Thorne?’
‘This is the good news we want you to share in the interview, Miss Paldon. It was quite a surprise for everyone to see your … spirited introduction. So, we’d like to clear up a few rumours. It’s all in the way you answer the questions.’
I waited. He’d laid out the offer of what I wanted. Now it was his turn. Martan pulled out the chair opposite to mine, placed his clipboard down and sat.
‘Lena, tell us, what transpired between yourself and Thorne for you to end up stealing his identity?’ His tone was flat, but the question carried plenty of judgement in itself.
‘He was a sexist piece of trash so my dragon kicked his shit in and I took the suit, since I’m perfectly qualified to do so.’ A direct question deserved a direct answer.
Martan drew in a breath so sharp his nostrils closed.
‘No, Lena.’
‘Yes, Martan.’ I replied petulantly. ‘It’s the truth.’
His shoulders sagged. He already looked way older than he was, but I’d been able to see him age an extra few years with my answer. ‘I’m not asking you to lie, Lena, but I do need you to pick certain strands of the truth and weave them together in a way that the press will understand.’
‘That’s a fancy way of telling me to lie.’
He ran a hand down his face, knocking his glasses askew. ‘First of all, it isn’t. Second of all, even if it was, you’ve been lying to the world for weeks on end – what would be the problem with doing it some more?’
‘The difference, Martan, is that I was lying to cover an innocent truth. It’s true that I’m qualified for the job.
Every other door was closed to me so my only option to further my career was by pretending to be Thorne.
Lying to cover up the fact that Thorne is a vicious creep with anger issues is absolutely not something that works in my favour. ’
My leg bounced up and down as I leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘Why should I protect the man that’s made me miserable for years? You can’t tell me you actually want me to make him look good, can you? I’ve seen the way he treats you too.’
He leaned forward as well. One chair leg was shorter than the others, making him tilt.
‘That’s an interesting concept you have there.’ He folded his fingers together.
‘That Thorne was a jerk to you? I didn’t think it was that bold a statement honestly.’
He waved a dismissive hand. ‘No, we all know that. Kiestral, the press, the dragons, the other teams … it’s no secret.’
‘Then why do you let him get away with it?’ My excitement at another chance to race was quickly being replaced with the frustration of years of being treated like crap.
The resentment that wasn’t just towards Thorne, but towards everyone who catered to him and enabled the behaviour that had crushed my spirit.
‘We both know you’re smart enough to answer that question yourself.’
There was a longer, more complex answer that involved the men around Thorne ignoring his behaviour because they could, letting it pass until it reached someone who couldn’t: me.
It wasn’t the answer Martan was looking for though, but it was the undercurrent of the whole sport. It fuelled the core of Volitant.
‘Money,’ I answered.
Martan nodded. ‘Yes, Lena, money. Thorne brings in major sponsors regardless of his current behaviour and performance. In the court of public opinion his previous success is worth the sacrifice of current Volitant points and the morale of staff here at Kiestral.
‘Now, perhaps you could apply that thinking to your previous statement. That you don’t see the benefit in protecting Thorne.’
‘I’m not going to sell out and accept money in exchange for my silence.’
‘But would you accept a career?’
The instant ‘no’ got caught somewhere between my brain and mouth.
‘It’s a less easy answer, isn’t it?’ His usually schooled face let through the hint of a smug grin.
‘No one is offering you money to cover up for Thorne, I want to make that very clear. However, I would urge you to see the benefits of telling the press a particular version of the truth. A version that paints you in a light that makes you appealing to the racing world. This is, after all, going to be your debut as Lena Paldon: the first woman to fly in Volitant.’
My heart sank.
I thought about every time Thorne had put me down.
Every time he’d lashed out at me. Every time the rest of the Kiestral crew had avoided eye contact, like being a victim was contagious.
Then I remembered the look Josie had given me in the train cabin.
I’d seen the same fire in her that had kept me going too.
I was damned if I did, damned if I didn’t. Either I spoke out against Thorne, effectively ruining my career and the potential of other women in the sport, or I let it slide for the sake of progress and enabled Thorne’s abusive behaviour.
I stared at the grain of the wooden table. My fingernails scratched against it as I considered my options.
‘Ask me again,’ I said quietly.
‘Lena, tell us, what transpired between yourself and Thorne for you to end up stealing his identity?’
‘When I realized Thorne wasn’t able to fly, due to his personal reasons, I made the choice to ride in his stead. I figured that maybe he was giving me a chance to prove myself.’
A thin smile crept over Martan’s too-old face. ‘That’s more like it.’
The casting orbs lit up as I entered the press room, each one accompanied by their caster and at least one journalist. Notepads and pens were poised and ready, some already moving furiously.
Martan’s team had provided me with official Kiestral rider gear. Not the flight suit and armour I’d been wearing for weeks, but the off-circuit uniform: a white linen shirt tucked into slightly slack trousers, with a big padded Kiestral orange jacket over the top.