Page 66 of Thief of Hearts

But it would, admittedly, be to my benefit.

I reached the midpoint again, making my turn. I risked a look across the track and saw the attendants hurrying out to clear the collision and remove the horses and men.

More calling out in pain, more crashing noises, more disappointed sounds from the audience as some of the drivers failed to make the turn.

I was quite a bit ahead of everyone else, coming out of the turn, when I became aware of solid things landing around me. One almost hit me in the head and I grabbed it out of the air, glancing down at it.

It was a nail-studded curse tablet. I was sure the curse had been written against me, but that wasn’t what concerned me—the sharp nails did. If one of those were driven into my horses’ hooves . . .

I wouldn’t let them be injured. I had to pay extremely close attention to where the tablets were and navigate the horses around them. It was slowing me down. A sense of panic began to set in. I hadn’t known the spectators could try and stop me. It was bad enough the other competitors were doing it.

We took the turn more slowly this time, and thankfully the other side of the track didn’t have the tablets. Third lap. Just one more and then this event was mine.

I whistled again. We needed to make up time. I couldn’t let anyone catch me.

But as I came into the straightaway, another chariot lagged behind. He didn’t seem to have weapons, nor was he looking back at me. Perhaps he was having an issue with his team.

As I drew closer, the driver suddenly bent down and grabbed a handful of dirt from the track, flinging it my way. I was able to duck and avoid getting hit by the worst of it, but specks still got into my lungs and my eyes. I blinked rapidly while coughing, trying to clear them out.

It was as if my horses sensed something was wrong with me. They were slowing down. I whistled, trying to get them to go, but they wouldn’t. I could feel the other competitors closing in.

When we took the turn this time, my chariot rocked to one side, balancing on a single wheel before slamming back down. I yelled and urged my horses to run. This was it. I could see the finish line from here. Thankfully, the attendants had cleared out the nail tablets. I sent a quick prayer to Invara that my horses wouldn’t accidentally land on any missed nails.

I heard the sound of a chariot approaching, pulling alongside me. Who was going fast enough to keep up? I risked a look to my right and saw that it was Zain. Grinning at me like we were having great fun. He waved and then pulled ahead of me and I was shocked. The crowd went wild as we raced down the track.

Faster. I had to go faster. My heart plummeted when my chariot suddenly dropped out underneath me, falling to one side as a wheel rolled away. I glanced at the harness attached to the chariot and saw that it was coming apart. As if it had been cut.

I started to reach for my knife to get myself free, planning where I would go when I landed so that I wouldn’t get trampled.

But it was as if time had suddenly slowed, allowing me to make a different decision. If I cut myself free, I would forfeit the race. I wouldn’t gain any points at all.

How could I finish without a chariot?

A childhood memory flashed in my mind and I switched the reins to my left hand. With my right I pulled my grandmother’s shield off my back, holding it. I waited until the lines attaching the horses to the chariot broke completely and then jumped forward, putting the shield under my feet with the smooth side down. I crouched close to the ground, just as I had when I was a girl, still hanging on to the reins with my left hand.

The audience screamed so loudly that my ears were ringing. This was a temporary fix; the shield wasn’t meant to be used this way and the ground would not allow this to go on for much longer.

Again I was faced with the prospect of cutting the reins and getting myself off the track.

While I was trying to make that decision, the shield hit a rock and sent me flying, but I was ready for it. I kept my left arm stretched out and closed my eyes, hitting the ground hard. I kept my face lifted up, and my bracer protected one section of my arm, but I could still feel the dirt grinding away at my skin, eating through my protective tunic.

Then the pain set in.

I considered trying to pull myself up along the reins but that wouldn’t be possible. I couldn’t risk the horses accidentally kicking me in the head if I got too close. My only option was to hang on.

I gripped the reins tighter, clenching my teeth from the sheer agony of how this felt. I would ride this out until the finish line. And I would survive.

This would not be how I died.

I knew I had crossed the line when the audience somehow managed to get even louder. The horses came to a stop and I nearly crashed into them.

But Zain was there, cutting the reins from my waist and pulling them from my hand.

“Illora?”

He sounded like he thought I had died.

“How did you beat me?” I muttered. My entire body throbbed with pain, as if I were just one giant open wound.