by Lyz Kelley
“You actually came.”
She appeared out of nowhere. Eyeing my torn racing shorts and jersey, Chanel smirked. “Nice outfit.”
I tried to hold still and ignore the intense itching, but at last, I gave in to temptation and scratched until my fingernails were bloody.
Chanel laughed. “Not long before you dissolve altogether. You do know what happens to humans in the Fae realm, right? So terrible they turn into oozing cesspits of rotting flesh.”
I swallowed hard. She was just trying to unnerve me.
“But before that happens …” She rounded me, and I had to pivot to keep her in my sights. “If you want to save your precious prince, you must win him in a race.”
“A race? As in a bike race?”
Chanel rolled her eyes. “As if.”
“Running race?” I offered. God, I hoped it wasn’t a swimming race.
“You pathetic humans have no idea what a real race is.” She turned and gestured. “Meet my ride, Gareth. Yours is in the cave.”
I followed where she was pointing and nearly passed out.
“He is so beautiful.” Chanel cooed at the humongous dragon swishing its tail. “And quite fast. He loves to race.”
Oh my fucking God.
Two gargoyles led me to a cave and shouted something in Fae. A dragon the size of a ship lumbered forward. Too shocked to speak, I climbed the ladder and offered no resistance as I was strapped onto the animal’s neck.
This was for Piran. This was for Piran.
No reins, so I held onto the straps, wincing in pain when my ravaged legs braced against the animal’s scaly hide. Exactly how did one race a dragon? I tentatively patted the dragon’s neck. “Nice dragon. Good dragon. Um, does it have a name?”
“Mabel,” replied one of the gargoyles. “See the pink bow on her ear?”
Oh, yeah. Stylin’.
Princess Chanel and her dragon flew overhead, the rush of swirling air making me cough and sending my hair whipping my face.
Thanks, bitch. Chanel was already on her way, yet there I sat, struggling to figure out how to get my dragon off the ground. “Come on, Mabel. Come on, girl. Fly!”
Nothing.
I dug in my heels like a rider on a horse. “Yip! Yip! Let’s go.”
Nothing.
My head drooped, and I groaned. “How do I get her started?”
“Try saying please,” one of the gargoyles replied.
“Please, Mabel,” I murmured as sweetly as I could. “Please fly.”
The dragon opened her ginormous wings and began to run. Holy shit! When she launched into the air, I was thrown flat on my back, grateful for the straps holding me in place. But what a rush!
We kept climbing and climbing into the sky. The thought suddenly occurred to me that I had no idea how high we’d go. What if I lost consciousness? What if Mabel did?
But she leveled out and soared in a lazy arc high over the castle.
I almost didn’t want to push her, but as breathtaking as the view was, we wouldn’t win the race this way.
“Come on, girl. Chase Gareth down. Show him who is boss.”
Mabel took off like a rocket. The air rushed past my face so fast I could barely breathe. I couldn’t see. I couldn’t hear. I could only hunker down and pray Mabel knew what the hell she was doing.
If fear had crept into my bike racing, it was nothing compared to what I felt right now. Particularly when she began to dive. Not just dive, but drop at a million miles per hour. I squeezed my eyes shut as my stomach shot up into my throat.
Then for some reason, I busted out laughing. Like whatever. You only live once, right? I lifted my hands in the air and whooped like a kid on a roller coaster. Until Mabel showed no sign of stopping.
“Slow down!” I yelled, tugging on the straps.
I thought we’d crash right into the ground, but after a sharp right that gave me whiplash, Mabel landed in a field and began eating flowers.
Stopping for a food break? Seriously?
We did not have time for this. I pleaded with her. Said pretty please. Kicked my heels. Resorted to shouting. Called her a stupid mule. Cried.
Resting my head against hers, I saw my future and it didn’t look good. Piran would never be released and I would die in Chanel’s vile kingdom with all my skin sloughed off.
“Mabel,” I whispered. “We need to win this race to save Piran of Sava.” Sniffing, I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands, the only place that didn’t have bleeding welts. “Chanel won’t release him unless I win his freedom. I don’t know what to do, Mabel. Just please fly.”
The beast’s giant wings flapped, and we took flight again. I had no idea if my words meant anything to her or she’d simply eaten her fill.
Nearing the mountains, Mabel slowed as we approached a cliff. No! We would not stop again. I remembered a rider in the dark Fae bike race who would always pull up on the bike’s handlebars. A strange thing to do on a bike. I studied the dragon’s ears, then grabbed them and yanked them up. Mabel soared over the cliff. Yes!
In the distance, Chanel’s dragon crested a mountain. Determination surged through me. Never doubt a bike racer when she’s behind.
“Come on, Mabel, catch that dragon!”
Ohhhh … Myyyy … Godddd. My lips peeled back. I’m pretty sure we broke the sound barrier.
Didn’t take long for Mabel to catch up to Gareth, or maybe I’d just lost consciousness for a while from the g-force. Soon the dragons were nearly even. I glanced over at Chanel and couldn’t help smirking.
Until Gareth whipped his powerful tail into Mabel’s side, and we spun end over end so fast spit flew from my mouth and my eyeballs damn near slammed into the back of my head. We stopped spinning just long enough for Mabel to let out a roar that shook every bone in my body.
My very angry dragon churned through the air, swooped in front of Gareth, and chomped on his wing. Then she slapped him so hard he hurtled face first into a mountainside.
We returned to the castle at a much slower pace, which made it easier for me since I was throwing up by this point.
Mabel landed near the cave, and the sprites squeaked their little heads off. “You won! You won!”
I wiped my mouth, too exhausted to appreciate the significance.
The gargoyles helped me down, their touch surprisingly tender. They even placed a blanket over me.
Laying on the ground, gasping, the irony hit me. I’d won, but I’d failed. I was still no closer to rescuing Piran.
A pair of glittery pumps entered my field of view.
“Ape. You scuffed my Jimmy Choos.”
“Good,” I retorted. “Where’s Piran?”
Chanel barked out a caustic laugh. “You will never see him again.”
“We had a deal,” I growled, my anger giving me the strength to stand.
“And I am reneging.” She smoothed her tangled hair. “You know who else reneged on a deal?”
“So take it out on them, not Piran. His parents arranged the engagement. Piran never wanted to marry you.”
For a moment, Chanel simply stared at me. Her eyes narrowed. “What does he see in you?”
Not that again. I’d probably always face doubters…assuming I made it home alive. “You’re asking the wrong question, Chanel,” I replied, swaying, unsteady on my feet. “What don’t you see about him?”
She snorted. “Whatever. His fetish is not my problem.”
“We like Bailey,” Pit protested. “And she won the race fair and square.”
“Get lost, meadow rats.” Chanel aimed a kick in the sprites’ direction, and they scrambled out of the way. “My race, my rules.”
One of the gargoyles grunted. “The race is binding, Princess. You must release the Savan prince. An agreement bound by magic cannot be dishonored. You know the consequences.”
Chanel pouted. “Yes, the consequences. I could lose my magic.” She heaved a sigh. “Why must gargoyles be so honorable?”
“Fine,” she huffed. “It was only a game anyway.” She waved a hand and strode away, her heels clicking on the stone path.
“Bailey!”
I whirled around.
Piran lifted me off my feet and cradled me in his arms. In a flash, he was laying me down on the bed in my Silesian hotel room.
“You saved me,” I whispered, gazing at his glorious face.
His soft laughter washed over me. “No, you saved me. Drink this.” He pressed a cup to my lips, and I drank.
“Ack. What’s in this?”
“Charcoal and ginger. Rest now.”
I lay back on the pillow, too exhausted to argue. Other voices crowded for my attention, but I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Someone smeared something cold and wet on my skin. The pain began to fade.
I love you, Piran. I needed to let him know as sleep overtook the edges of my consciousness.
He lightly kissed my lips. “I know. I love you too.”
I awoke with a start to morning light streaming through the window. In a panic, I called out Piran’s name.
A warm hand brushed the hair from my forehead. “I am here. I stayed with you through the night.”
Reassured, I groaned from stiffness. “I feel like I’m in a cast.”
He chuckled. “A concoction of dock leaves, fern, and mud. My mother did not want to rely on Fae magic and have it backfire.”
As I sat up, bits of gray, dried paste littered the bedsheet like scabs. I picked at a loose chunk on my arm.
He covered my hand with his own, stopping me. “A bath with Epsom salts and aloe will remove the healing mask and further soothe your skin.”
“What about you?” I asked, peering at him. “Are you hurt?”
“No,” he replied, his eyes darkening. “Shocked. Angry. Disappointed.” His expression softened. “But incredibly proud of you, my brave dragon-racer. Is there anything you cannot do?”
I grinned, cracking the mud paste on my cheeks. “Why couldn’t you fight her magic with your own?”
“Her enchantment had a binder. Because of our betrothal agreement, if I used magic in the Silesian kingdom, I would be bound to her forever until she released me.”
I stopped blinking. And breathing.
He squeezed my hand. “My mother thanks you for your bravery. She would tell you herself, but she and my father had to call upon the High Council regarding Chanel.” He paused. “I must join them now.”
“Wait. You’re leaving?”
“The situation in the Silesian kingdom is quite volatile, and this latest incident directly involves me. The High Council requires my presence.”
“I understand, but—”
He kissed the top of my head, one of the few places unaffected by the welts. Closing my eyes, I sighed in appreciation. Here I sat, filthy, sweaty, and covered in mud paste, and the love of my life still kissed me.
“When will I see you again?” I asked.
After a moment of silence, I opened my eyes. My heart sank.
I was alone.
Chapter 25
After a bath, I dried myself slowly. Only a trace of yesterday’s torturous visit to the Fae realm remained. I dressed and packed then sat on the edge of the bed, turning my phone over and over in my hands. No way to find out exactly what was happening with Piran. Why hadn’t he called?
A knock on my door set my stomach fluttering. Had he come to join me for the flight home? I took a deep breath and ran my hands through my wet hair, wishing I had something more dressy than jeans and a T-shirt. Oh well. He’d seen me in a lot worse.
Eagerly, I opened the door … and tried not to frown. “Um, hi.”
“Um, hi?” Daria’s eyebrows lifted. “Guess you were expecting someone else.”
I shrugged, my cheeks warming.
She laughed. “I understand. Caroline said your boyfriend was at the race.”
Boyfriend? If only I knew for sure. Did his father have other plans for him? Would Piran even be returning to the United States?
“Sorry, come in,” I said, remembering my manners.
Daria shook her head. “No time, but I did want to congratulate you on a solid race.”
“Thanks, except I only finished mid-field.”
She waved away my concern. “The crowds were outrageous. The crashes were horrendous. And the team van couldn’t get to you when you flatted. Considering all that happened, you did fine for your first professional race.”
A glimmer of hope sparked that she’d ask me to join Team Ibsy, but for some reason, my enthusiasm seemed stunted. Maybe because I hadn’t been able to get that scene out of my head of the rescue basket lowered over the guardrail. And the thought of racing in Europe with the crowds spilling onto the racecourse made me hyperventilate.
“A number of top women riders were taken out by the crashes,” Daria continued. “Therefore we need to see how you’ll handle yourself in a full field of pros.”
Nodding, I shoved my hands in my pockets. I’d have to prove myself anyway.
The Ibsy director stepped back from the door. “I’ll keep in touch and let you know when there’s another opportunity for you to race with us.”
“Sounds good.” I managed a professional smile to hide my conflicted feelings. “By the way, do you know what happened to the rider who went over the guardrail during the race?”
“She had to be airlifted to the hospital. That’s all I know.” Daria paused. “Bike racing isn’t for the faint-hearted, Bailey. I’m sure you’re aware of the risks in this sport.”
“Yeah, I am,” I said, scuffing my toe along the stained carpet. “I had a concussion from a crash back in June.”
“And you continued to race, which means you didn’t let it throw you. Right?”
It hadn’t then. Now I wasn’t so sure.
She gave me an understanding smile. “You can’t dwell on the risk of injury or it will mess with your confidence, and then fear becomes your worst enemy.” Daria glanced at her watch. “I need to go. Flight to New York leaves in three hours.”
I grabbed my suitcase and headed to the airport shuttle.
Waiting in line to board my flight back to Chicago, I received a text message from Daria. Team Ibsy had been selected to ride the Tour of Qatar. Another message from her followed. The tour only allowed six riders per team. Would I be willing to serve as an alternate?
Staring at the phone screen, I laced my hand around the strap on my knapsack. An alternate. No guarantee I’d even get to race. And not racing meant no money. Were all life career decisions this difficult? All I did know was that if I didn’t find my racing mojo again, my career could be over before it had even begun.
I set my phone on airplane mode, but by the time we touched down in Chicago, I still hadn’t made a decision about the Tour of Qatar. For the past four years, all I’d thought about was becoming a professional rider. Now I wondered if I had the necessary competitive edge. Could I handle the pressure? Without an offer from a big-name European team, I’d end up flying from race to race, sleeping in cheap hotels, and serving as a domestique. And for what? To risk my life to ensure someone else won the glory?
Exiting the airport terminal, I found my ride waiting. “Dad!” I exclaimed, surprised.
He wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Hey, kiddo. How was the race?”
“Good, I guess.” I averted my gaze, not wanting to talk about the bike race in Silesia. And I definitely wasn’t mentioning the dragon race.
Dad loaded my luggage into the trunk of his car. Thankfully, he didn’t push the subject. “Interested in going out for breakfast?”
“Sure.” I buckled my seat belt, and we headed out of the airport lot.
“How long will you be home?”
I jiggled my foot and stared out the car window. “Don’t know. A few days at least. Maybe longer.”
“Hmm? Going back to Colorado?”
“Not right away. I mean
…” I sighed, twisting my hands in my lap.
Dad patted my thigh. “The only way you know if a job is right for you is to try it. No law says you have to stay in that job though. If you want to race, you should race. And if you no longer want to race, that’s fine too.”
“I just need some time to think about what I want.”
“Well, right now, kiddo, I want eggs and bacon. And a pile of pancakes dripping with butter and syrup.”
I laughed. Only my dad could remind me of what was really important. “I love you, Dad.”
He cast me a sideways glance. “Not sure where that came from, but I’ll take it.”
After breakfast, he dropped me off at home. Since Mom was at work and Kelsi was attending an art show, I walked over to Harbor Bike and Ski.
Mike, the manager, waved. “Bailey! Great to see you. How’s the racing going?”
“Great,” I replied, realizing it was more of a rhetorical question. “How’s everything here?”
He opened a carton of tires and slapped the counter in frustration. “These are the wrong ones. Who ordered these?” He gestured to an overflowing pile of receipts. “Any chance you’re in town for a while? We could really use your help around here.”
“No problem,” I said, stifling a giggle at his ineptitude. No doubt he’d ordered the wrong tires himself. “Let me sign in.”
When I opened the door to the back room, familiar laughter reached my ears. Nick and Tyler were shooting tools off the workbenches with nerf gun pellets.
“We’re working,” Tyler said, reloading his gun.
“Uh-huh,” I replied, kicking a nerf pellet on the floor. “Mike should fire your lazy asses.”
Nick grinned. “Look who’s talking like an adult.”
I jotted my name on the sign-in sheet.
“Whoa,” Tyler said. “You’re working here again?”
“Well, apparently, somebody has to work here.”
A volley of nerf pellets rained over my head, and I ducked, squealing. Just like old times.
Finally, I got away and grabbed the receipt box, but by five in the afternoon, the shop seemed pretty quiet, so I signed out.
