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Startled, I jump off the table’s edge, attempting to appear engrossed in my tasks. I turn to face Stone, the tension evident in my body. “I know, Stone. The start of the Race and the opening ceremonies set the tone for the event. I’ve got this, you need to trust me. I’m not the screw-up kid I once was.”
Stone places a reassuring hand on my shoulder, his gaze filled with concern. “I trust you, Zeph. We all do. But this is a pivotal moment, and the pressure is on. Stay focused, and let’s make this happen.”
Taking a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves.
The Race is deeply rooted in Ytopie’s culture and is eagerly anticipated by our citizens yearly. Doubts creep into my mind, questioning why I have taken it upon myself to challenge the established order. Whispers of rebels and dissenters have reached my ears, but I’ve chosen to tread this path alone. I wonder if I should have sought the help of Plume or even Stone.
I look at him and briefly consider revealing my plan, but ultimately, I decide against it. Stone has had many options to change our lands, but he hasn’t. I cannot risk telling him and having my plan go off the rails.
I’ve come too far to turn back now.
Chapter 8
Viola
“Youready?”Maxasks,tightening the laces on her leather boots and slipping a small knife into the side of them.
I nod, barely paying attention to her as I braid my hair into a shiny single plait down my back. I washed my hair this morning for the first time in a while. We have no idea how long the Race will take us, even though, in most years, it does not last much more than two weeks for the fastest of us. Regardless, starting out with clean hair couldn’t hurt.
Max rises to her full height, at least a head shorter than me, and knocks me with her shoulder. “Well then, let’s go get in position, partner.”
On Race Day, all Lowlanders who have reached the age of Ascension have to report to the base of the Summit, where a member of the Coalition of Lowlanders and a representative from the Patricians wait to kick off the event.
We merge with the crowd, heading towards a makeshift stage where I see two nondescript figures standing on top of it, heads close together in conversation. The stage is set up at the entrance to the forest surrounding Gallant Summit, its weathered boards hauled out year after year just for the occasion. The heat from the summer sun beats down on us, threatening to tighten my skin already.
Behind me, I hear the huffing of someone out of breath and turn and see Jaz catching up with Max and me. Inwardly, I cringe, knowing just how badly I betrayed them.
Their arm is in a sling, a remnant of the attack they suffered. “Max, Vi… I was robbed.”
Max startles and turns around. “What? How?”
Jaz shrugs, hand ruffling their short-cropped curly hair. “I don’t know. I had all of my windows secured, and my doors barricaded, but I found a window open. It was well secured, and that one has always squeaked loudly. I have no idea how I didn’t hear it.”
“Oh shit. What did they take?” Max asks, as my stomach burns with guilt for what I’ve done.
“I didn’t immediately check my pack since I assumed it was a fluke. So, when I grabbed it to ensure I had everything I needed, I found that all my dried meat and a handful of my healing tinctures were gone.”
Odd. Jaz did not mention the Witch’s Ladder. They must not want anyone to know about it.
“Well, that’s a relief,” I say, trying to keep my voice level. “At least you can make some tinctures while on the Summit and do some hunting.”
Jaz shrugs, eyes downcast, “I mean, yeah. But I’m already going to be slow since I’m down an arm… There is no chance of me winning this year.”
Max nods solemnly. “Well, we’ll keep an eye out for you, Jaz.” I take her hand and hurry us through the crowd, leaving Jaz behind. “That sucks for Jaz,” Max begins.
I interrupt her. “But it’s just us. I do not want to take on a third that can slow us down.”
We reach a comfortable spot to see the opening ceremonies and the stage, and I look up to see the leader of the Patricians, Mace Nightroot. My breath catches just as Max locks eyes on him as well.
“Fuck if I don’t hate him, but Gods, that is a beautiful fae,” she whispers, not taking her eyes off him.
She’s not wrong. He is tall, towering over Maude, the Coalition representative, next to him. The Coalition was formed to give the Lowlanders a voice to the fae, but I can’t see what good they do. Standing beside Maude, Mace looks young, but I know that is just how the fae age. He’s got a smooth face, freshly shaven, piercing green eyes, and dark hair that is pushed back from his face but still ends up shaggy around his ears. His sharp jawline flexes as he speaks, and my eyes trail down his body, his muscular arms, the flash of exposed skin on his chest, and the long, lithe legs.
I flashback to my time with Amio, which clearly wasn’t enough to quell the hunger I feel deep in my belly at the sight of Mace.
I have always been attracted to power. Why bother putting myself in a vulnerable position if I can’t get something out of it?
Amio was a lapse in judgment, that is for sure.
