CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE #3
Moisture welled in my eyes as heat rushed to my cheeks.
When Cam had met me at the city train station she’d merely taken my bags from me and led me home.
We hadn’t spoken about what had happened.
I didn’t need to tell her, she’d watched my interview with Cooke.
She’d shown up when I needed her and that had been enough.
Or, I thought that had been enough. From the way cold fury was pouring off her, it wasn’t enough for Cam.
Bach placed the skewer down and sat back in his chair.
‘Fair questions,’ he replied. ‘Ones with answers that would only disappoint everyone here. The truth of it is that I’ve been ignorant of a lot.
’ He held up a hand to stop the interruption coming his way.
Bold. ‘Even wilfully so in recent years. I can’t change my inaction.
I can’t go back and do more. What I can do though is do more in the future. ’
He turned to me. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tried desperately to will the tears back into my eyes before they spilled. I knew all too well what he’d missed, what I’d endured just to be near the sport I loved, but to hear my hero acknowledge it … The weight of it pressed down on me.
Bach was offering to help me go back. To return to the place where I’d been broken apart and held up as an example of failure. If the version of myself from a month ago – the one who had put on Thorne’s helmet – knew I was considering turning this down she’d have made me disappear too.
‘I’m sorry for the things I’ve missed. I’d like to do what I can to make up for it, though how much use I can be now I’m not sure.’ Bach was solemn, his blue eyes steady.
I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
He rolled his shoulders, looking uncomfortable. ‘After the crash last week I won’t be racing again this season. Maybe not next season either.’
My jaw dropped. Even Cam shifted in her seat and Trea ran a hand over her jaw.
I didn’t need to see Lynk to know he was equally shocked.
As standoffish as they’d all been at Bach’s arrival and his part – or lack of – in my career downfall, he was still a racing legend.
All of us had grown up watching him fly.
The first race I’d ever seen was at Lynk’s parents’ house, crowded around the new casting augment they’d got, just to watch the first Decennial race of the season.
The big kids had blocked my view for most of it, until I’d climbed on the back of the sofa and stood behind Cam, my feet digging into the cushions.
I could still see it so clearly in my mind’s eye.
I could still remember the feeling in that room as he’d sliced through those old-fashioned arcans with his battleaxe.
I’d been five years old at the time. I’d seen some glimpses of Volitant races before, I’d been around drakes at the hatchery where my uncle had worked, but I’d never seen anything like the Decennial.
Twenty riders and dragons from Volitant Forge and Chroma all racing together to see who was the best of them all.
The answer had been Bach. Already Volitant Chroma Champion three times over, he took the Decennial Champion title that year too.
Now he wasn’t going to fly again, because of a chain of events that I’d set in motion.
‘I’m going to be sick.’ The filter between my brain and mouth had been permanently misplaced.
Bach only scoffed. ‘Josie warned me you would be dramatic.’
That shook the nausea away. ‘Josie spoke to you?’
Through all the mess of being found out and admitting to my not-quite-crimes I had kept Josie’s name out of it all.
If she had talked to Bach about this, she would have been completely sure that he would be on our side.
Not that I’d have assumed he’d support Thorne and his campaign to discredit me with Cooke, but riders had a tendency to be toxically neutral when it came to opinions regarding anything other than dragons.
It also meant Josie thought this was a good idea.
‘Yes, she told me her side of recent events.’ A new expression crept over his face, one I hadn’t seen before in years of watching him.
He was baffled. ‘I don’t know how I could have spotted all this when she didn’t falter in her keeper work one bit.
She really ran strategy for you? And fitted your comms? ’
Pride filled me. ‘Yes. And made a voice-changer for me to sound like Thorne. And translated all the strategy numbers into facts I could remember—’ I stopped myself before admitting I could only remember instructions if they came in the context of his career.
‘Good. She’ll be joining us too.’
I blinked away my surprise. This wasn’t just an idea, it was a plan. The last trickle of doubt was disappearing.
‘You’re going to have to be a lot more specific about these plans of yours, Lotiere,’ said Cam. ‘I’m going to need names, addresses and a whole lot more information than that before I let you take my little sister anywhere.’
It was always ‘my little sister’ when she was angry. Never ‘my mature and talented sister capable of making her own decisions’.
‘I have a ranch,’ he said, folding his arms. ‘It’s in the north of the Crescent. It’s my private home away from all that.’ He waved a hand at the cast behind him.
I lingered on the times and names listed on the side of the projection. Quinn had taken first place.
‘I intend on taking Lena there to train her in the finer points of racing. Josie, her friend and, apparently, strategist, will be there to train too. They’ve already proven they work well as a team, so all I have to do is take off the rough edges.’
‘Sounds just lovely.’ Cam’s sarcasm wasn’t subtle. ‘And what use is that if she’s been kicked out of Volitant?’
For the first time Bach seemed hesitant. ‘I haven’t worked that part out yet.’
‘Cam.’ I clasped my hands together and hung my head. ‘Please don’t get in the way of this. Please.’
I wasn’t sure if my pleading had even worked when she said, ‘Sure, in theory. Lena hasn’t just been kicked out of Kiestral though – she’s banned. Getting her back to riding Gottyk seems like too big of a challenge even for you.’
It was a good point. Cam knew too well how hard it was to acquire dragons and their eggs – she’d tried.
‘There are others she can fly. My retired racing dragons. They’re at my ranch, being taken care of by a small trusted team.’
‘She’ll go!’ Lynk butted into the conversation, coming over to grab my shoulders and shake them. ‘Lena, go pack your bags!’
Trea began hopping from foot to foot in the corner. ‘For real? The old Victrolia greens from the Wingtip Era?’
‘Forge dragons too? Not just Chroma?’ Lynk’s grip was tightening. ‘The championship Adviant whiptail from sixty-five?’
They were saying exactly what I was thinking. Bach’s career was flashing before my eyes – the classic dragons from the racing eras before my time would be there. The first dragons to test out the theories around aerodynamic upflow. A living legacy of history.
‘Most of them have succumbed to the Pull,’ Bach replied sombrely. ‘But, yes. Some of them are still around.’
Of course, the oldest of them would have flown north, past the continents entirely, and into the Winds to finally rest. It was always sad when a dragon felt the Pull to leave, but some of them were still around, living with Bach. And I had a chance to see them.
I bored a hole into the side of Cam’s head, willing her to look at me. Desperate for her to understand what this opportunity meant. I understood her hesitance. If our positions had been reversed I’d want to keep her away from Volitant too, to remove the chance of any more hurt.
But what was the point of avoiding the pain if the only other option was living a life where I’d feel nothing at all?
‘Fine,’ she said, finally meeting my gaze. ‘Lena, if you want this, you should do it. Find a way to get back into Volitant and tear that piece of shit a new one.’
A wicked grin spread across my face. ‘I will.’