But she shoved her resentment down where it wouldn’t show on her face as she approached her patron’s palace. Over the past few months, ever since the death of the last emperor, the number of city guards patrolling these streets had doubled—it wouldn’t do to look like a troublemaker.
Lady Evara possessed what she would have called a “modest” home, a sprawling complex of “only” six buildings and three gardens. The unrest throughout Becar, the threats brewing beyond the empire’s borders . . . none of it appeared to have touched this oasis in the slightest. But that had to be an illusion. Even the aristocracy needed the empire to function in order to maintain their wealth and power. The rich were merely better at hiding any hint of strain, due to the fact that they, by definition, had absurd amounts of money.
Each building looked like a temple of polished white marble with a blue-tiled dome that gleamed against the cloudless sky. Strikingly beautiful, yes, but it was the gardens that were extraordinary. Entering through one of the servant archways, Tamra marveled at the gorgeous sprays of purple, blue, and yellow flowers that were suspended on impossible-to-see trellises so that they appeared to be floating. She inhaled the perfume of the blossoms, so thick that it made her head feel as if it were spinning. Reaching up, she trailed her fingers across the petals of the velvet-soft blossoms. Imagine having enough gold to create floating gardens. Surely, Lady Evara will spend a bit of her fortune on a has-been rider’s dreams of lost glory.
Maybe she should think of a better sales pitch than that.
Trouble was, she wasn’t good at asking for money. Or for anything. She’d become a rider to prove her worth, and that hadn’t changed—she wanted this patronage because she deserved it, not because anyone pitied her.
After giving her name to one of Lady Evara’s servants, Tamra waited as instructed by a pond that was overstuffed with lilies and shimmering silver fish. A waterfall fed the stream, pouring from bronze vases. Even though she knew it cycled back through hidden hoses, it still felt like a frivolous waste of money.
But then, I suppose, so am I.
Last season her patron had showered her with enough money to buy the best racer at the auction and hire the most promising rider. Both had died when she’d pushed them too hard in their final race in the Heart of Becar.
Even worse, they’d taken down multiple racers and riders around them.
A high-profile disaster like that, accompanied by so many fines that Tamra had lost all her savings from her champion years, should have been enough for her patron to abandon her entirely. Tamra should just be grateful that she hadn’t. Yet here I am, about to ask her to trust me again.
This is never going to work.
She fixed her thoughts on Shalla, attempting to firm up her resolve once more.
It was funny, but she’d never once felt this kind of self-doubt on the racetrack.
It’s age, Tamra thought. The youth can be confident because they don’t know how many doors are closing with each passing day. The youth had the illusion of limitless possibilities, whereas Tamra had already had her fate, her failure, shoved down her throat.
I can’t fail again. I won’t.
“My petal!” Lady Evara swept across the garden, looking as if she were wearing a garden on her body. She was draped in gauzy layers of fabric embroidered with a riot of flowers, all in gold- and emerald-colored threads. Her hair was dyed emerald and gold as well, and was wrapped around a puzzle of golden trellises so high and wide that Tamra didn’t know how she managed to walk without tipping over. “Such a delight to see you, my dear, especially after what happened yesterday. Losing all your students at once. Tut-tut.”
She shouldn’t have been surprised that Lady Evara knew, but it still caught her off guard. Even with so many city services hamstrung by the lack of an emperor, the rich still found ways to get news faster than anyone else. She wondered whether one of the other trainers had sent a messenger wight with the humiliating details. Or it could have been one of her students’ parents. Tamra tried not to let her dismay show on her face as she bowed low. “Gracious One, you look as beautiful as your garden.”
Lady Evara laughed, a tinkling sound that resembled a wind chime. Tamra knew she’d cultivated that laugh—she’d once interrupted the great lady practicing when she thought no one could hear her. Or maybe she simply hadn’t cared if Tamra had.
“You have probably guessed why I have come, Gracious One.”
The laugh died as if it were a fire doused with water. “You want. Isn’t that why you always come? Your wants. Your needs. Your dreams. But does anyone ever ask what I want and need?”
Oh, spectacular. It’s going to be one of those visits. “What do you want and need?” Tamra asked dutifully, though what she really wanted to ask was how could Lady Evara need anything, living in such splendor? Her every whim was catered to. She’d never known true need. Maybe want, though. Even the rich had wants.
“Absolutely nothing. All my dreams have been fulfilled.”
That . . . wasn’t the answer she expected, even if she suspected it was true.
“That’s a lie, of course,” Lady Evara said airily. “I want to sponsor a winner. You promised me one. You were so very certain.” She pouted, and Tamra tried to guess what the appropriate response was. An apology? Bravado? She went with truth:
“I can make a winner.”
“Oh? So confident, sweet petal? You’re cursed, they say, after last year’s catastrophe. They call me foolish to encourage you. They’d rather I toss you to the jackals. But I’m not so fickle in my judgments. And I judge that you can do as you say.”
Tamra allowed herself a hint of hope. Maybe this would be simpler than she’d thought it would. Maybe she’d be given another chance. Maybe . . .
“Still, I don’t like to be considered a fool. You don’t consider me a fool, do you?” Lady Evara looked at her then with piercing eyes, as if Tamra’s answer were vitally important.
Someone else might have lied. Someone who played the games of the wealthy, who knew how to flatter, who knew how to handle people. Tamra wasn’t good at reading people.
She was, though, excellent at reading monsters.
“Foolish, yes,” Tamra said. “But a fool? Never.”
Lady Evara laughed, clearly pleased with that answer. “Then I have a bargain for you. Last year, I gave you unlimited access to my funds to purchase your mount and woo your rider. This year, you may have two hundred gold pieces. Plus I will sponsor your entrance fees.”
Two hundred! That was barely enough to—
“Standard cut of the prize money. But . . .” Lady Evara paused dramatically. “Succeed in training a rider and racer who can place top three in a race in the Heart of Becar, and I will not only continue to be your patron, but I will also pay your family’s debts to the augurs for the next three years. I will see that your daughter continues in your care while fulfilling her destiny.”
The offer was grand enough to make Tamra’s head spin. Top three . . . It wasn’t impossible. After all, Lady Evara hadn’t said she needed to compete in the final championship race. Just in a race in the Heart of Becar. There were dozens of those—you just needed to win one of two regional qualifiers to be allowed to run. But with only two hundred gold pieces to begin with . . . “Five hundred,” Tamra countered. “You can’t purchase any reasonable mount—”