CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #2
Me after a race with Runt, the first drake I’d raced.
Cam’s arm was slung around my shoulders, the top of my head practically stuffed into her armpit.
Me and Theo on a podium aged twelve: me on the top spot, him on the second.
Theo’s wrists and ankles stuck out of the ends of his race suit, he’d had a growth spurt that summer that left his parents in despair for all his clothes.
Despite everything Cam had kept the pictures up.
There were more of them dotted among the other loved ones in Cam’s life.
It was at odds with the way she talked about our childhood.
Neither of us brought up our parents unless we had to – and we’d go to great lengths before getting to that point.
Yet she was more than willing to display memories on the wall of us together. Of the moments she wanted to remember.
‘You eating, Lee?’
I shuffled around the corner of the table and took a seat next to Trea, nodding vigorously to her and watching Lynk who was at the stove. ‘Absolutely.’
Cam sat on the adjacent side, facing the cast screen.
It was lit up by the casting augment below it, projecting the Ballenir race live.
Trea leaned back in her chair and grabbed plates from the cupboard next to her without taking her eyes from the cast. The door banged against the leg of her chair, but she was able to pull out the chipped crockery regardless.
Lynk placed the food in the middle of the table.
Mismatched colourful bowls filled with rice and the promised fried fish and skewers with roasted vegetables.
He’d learned over the years that there was no such thing as too much flavour, further pushing the limits of his experiments on whoever was coming through the house.
It used to feel like a risk when showing up on his night to cook, but now he was the resident chef.
‘Thanks, Lynk,’ I said, heaping it all on to my plate.
I couldn’t help but notice that there was enough for far more than four people.
There was also a stack of empty cups by the sink and at least one too many jackets hanging off the backs of chairs.
I kept my eyes down on my food, suddenly aware of my sister’s watchful gaze from further along the table.
‘Okay, bets are open,’ said Trea, her mouth full of rice. ‘Who wins it? Who bins it?’ She pulled a fistful of cash from a pocket and slammed it on the table. ‘Ten on Lotiere winning, ten on Thorne binning and hopefully dying in a ball of flame.’
I snorted as a response. As nice as the attempt to be funny was, I wasn’t quite ready to joke about it.
‘Lotiere’s not flying, idiot. He’s injured from last week.’ Lynk shoved his own money into the pool now forming on the table. ‘So yeah, I’ll bet against you on that. Ruan wins, Thokan bins.’
‘You’re insane!’ Trea pointed at Lynk with her half-cleaned skewer. ‘There’s something seriously wrong with you if you think Thokan is going to crash.’
I couldn’t help but smile at the arguing. If there was a sound of home, this was it. I avoided looking at the cast and caught Cam instead. She rolled her eyes at me as she silently ate her meal, stuck between the bickering.
‘Not only did you not notice Lotiere was out, but you’ve clearly not noticed that the Victrolias are nearly equal on points. They’d rather sacrifice Thokan than miss out on Ruan making champion for the second time.’
Rather than reply to Lynk, Trea turned to me, eyes wide. ‘For real?’
‘I’m not picking a side.’ It was the sensible thing to do. ‘Plus, I like my own odds—’ I fished in my pockets for some money to put in the pool. ‘Quinn wins and Thorne bins.’
A synchronized ‘Oooh’ came from the duo as I entered the betting pool.
Then, to our collective surprise, Cam joined in too.
‘Vaspre wins, a Boll bins – I don’t really care which one.’
Trea and Lynk cheered. The betting pool was set just as the flare popped. My chest tightened as I watched the race start.
Compared to the roar of dragons and the comms in my ears, this was hauntingly quiet. I sat back, no longer hungry. I didn’t have much appetite left for anything anymore. A week at home with nothing to strive for had left me feeling empty with no will to fill myself back up.
Colly was chasing Theo into turn two when there was a knock at the door.
‘Fuck off!’ yelled Trea, eyes still focused forward.
The knock sounded again, the visitor clearly wasn’t bothered by the off-putting welcome.
‘Get the door,’ said Cam.
It wasn’t clear who it was directed at, but Lynk was the one to follow the order. The scrape of the chair legs on the stone floor was followed by a clatter as it tipped over. A consequence of watching the cast rather than where he was going.
‘Who visits during a race? Honestly,’ he muttered.
Cam and Trea leaned in sync as Lynk walked past the cast, not willing to miss the action for more than a second.
I blew out a breath as Colly’s overtake was nullified by the agile reptilian arcans swarming the circuit. He still needed to work on his upper-body strength. A pang bounced around my chest. I wouldn’t get to train with the gangly eternal sunbeam.
‘Lena?’ Lynk called from behind me at the door.
‘What?’ I was as engrossed in the race as the others now.
‘It’s for you.’
As one Cam, Trea and I all tore ourselves away from the cast and looked to the open doorway. Lynk was clutching the door, holding it open for the unexpected guest.
‘What the fuck—?’ Cam wasn’t caught off guard often, but this seemed like it would do the job.
Standing at the door of my sister’s cottage in the quiet suburb of nowhere was Bach Lotiere.
Someone had muted the cast of the race. I hadn’t seen it happen, but I was now sitting around Cam’s kitchen table with the greatest Volitant rider in history in complete silence.
Lynk had stayed by the door, watching out of the window he’d since closed.
Trea had moved to lean against the exit to the hallway, covering the only other way into the room.
I wasn’t sure why. Was it to protect Bach from any sudden intruders or to stop him from escaping?
Maybe it was a habit for when guests dropped by unannounced, though I doubted there was a rule among the crew for this particular circumstance.
What was most unnerving though wasn’t my hero sitting in front of a wall full of my childhood achievements, including – but not limited to – when I lost my two front teeth leaving me with a gap-toothed smile. No, it was my sister.
Cam was somehow exuding more domineering energy than Bach.
Whereas the latter was sitting politely, his hands folded in front of him on the tabletop, Cam was leaning back in her chair, looking down her nose at him.
It was of great concern to me that she seemed ready to break into a fist fight at any moment.
Bach either didn’t notice or didn’t mind the energy coming from Cam.
I’d watched enough interviews to know he didn’t hold back from confrontation.
His blond brows were slightly furrowed, making him seem concerned.
Threatened though, definitely not. I would always bet on my sister in a fight, but Bach Lotiere was a thick athlete thanks to his twenty-eight years of dragon riding.
That said, he looked less impressive than usual.
The light stubble on his jaw was longer, his hair more than just windswept, and there was a definite favouring of his right side.
I tried not to think about it being my fault.
‘Would you like some food? It’s good.’ My voice didn’t come out as anything more than a hoarse whisper. Being any louder would have felt like yelling.
He nodded. ‘Yes, please.’
I fumbled to get the cupboard door open to fish out another plate, nowhere near as deft as Trea.
‘What do you want with my sister?’ Cam’s question was curt at best, leaning towards accusatory.
Pain blossomed on the back of my skull as I cracked it against the table trying to get up. Great, another bruise to match the mottled colours of my face. I’d looked away for half a second and Cam had chosen then to start the conversation – and not with a very positive attitude.
‘I was intending to have that conversation with Lena herself.’ Bach maintained eye contact with Cam as he spoke. He was braver than me. ‘But if this is a group I can speak freely in front of I have no qualms involving you too.’
He turned to me after speaking. Cam remained in crew-leader mode and stayed locked on Bach.
I nodded as I heaped food on to the now free plate and slid it over to him. ‘Yeah, of course. They’re family.’
Trea straightened up by the hallway, her shoulders squaring. I did my best to squash the swelling of my heart.
‘I’m here to offer my mentorship,’ he said as he tore a pepper off a skewer.
White noise filled my ears and the tips of my fingers felt fuzzy. Mentorship? He wanted to mentor me?
‘For racing?’ My mouth had moved without permission. It was quite possibly the stupidest question I’d ever asked – including during all my strategy sessions with Josie.
‘Yes,’ he answered. The casual way he spoke didn’t match the weight of the situation at all.
My mind began to race. This went against all of my instincts when it came to Bach: to avoid, to not embarrass myself, to not let him know me and my flaws. Yet doors I had thought closed, locked and barred now had cracks of light coming through them.
‘No.’
My head whipped to my sister. ‘What? Cam—What?’
She ignored me. ‘Where was your mentorship the past four years?’
Oh no. She was trying to make the decision for me.
‘Where were you when that piece of shit,’ – She spat the words and pointed to the muted cast still playing behind Bach.
– ‘was making my little sister miserable? Where was your mentorship while she was flying under your nose half the season? What have you been doing for the three decades of your career while riders like her have been squeezed, beaten and harassed out of the sport?’