Page 41 of This Dark Descent
“You don’t belong here.” Gren’s dark eyes glinted. “Even your coward of a father knows that.”
The words snapped Mikira’s spine straight. “My father is not a coward.”
Gren laughed. “A washed-up, useless, coward.”
The announcer said something over the loudspeaker, but it was lost to the roaring in Mikira’s ears, to the desire to drive her fist into that man’s sneering grin. She tried desperately to claw the anger back, to do as Reid had said and forge it into a shield his blades couldn’t penetrate.
The crowd echoed the announcer’s countdown. “For Enderlain! For the Harbingers!”
Gren turned back to the track. “You’re in over your head, little girl.”
“For Sendia!”
The starting bell rang.
CHAPTER 15
MIKIRA
ATARA BOLTED.
Mikira threw herself forward with a yelp, holding on for dear life as the horse galloped toward the woods at breakneck speed. Dirt and grass flew up behind them, the world turning into a blur of color on either side of her. She slowly relaxed back into the saddle, unclenching her white-knuckled hands from the reins. Even Iri’s speed enchantment wasn’t this strong. Exactly how powerful of an enchanter was Ari?
As Atara raced forward, her stride easy and graceful, the burst of fear-laden adrenaline that’d erupted through Mikira melted into utter delight. She whooped into the roaring wind.
Then the Houndswood swallowed them.
The cheering crowd vanished, replaced by the thunder of hooves and shouts of riders. Metal clanged as weapons were drawn and the melee began. Dezaena Fyas fended off a baton from another rider, Alren Zalaire riding at their back in an alliance formation. Arabella Wakelin was already pulling ahead of the pack, Gren hot on her tail.
Mikira shifted her reins to one hand and unsheathed a blade with the other as another rider bore down on her. She deflected their knife and drew Atara away to open space.
They wove through the trees, keeping well away from the other riders.There was no path to follow, and the thick canopy above cast the forest floor in shadow, making it difficult to spot any warning signs of enchantments.
The ground began to shake.
Atara slowed but kept her footing. Other horses spooked, darting wildly left and right as leaves rained from the trees. Ahead, the ground split like a yawning maw, revealing a bed of sharp spikes.
Dezaena’s and Alren’s horses sprang across the gap as it opened. Another slammed to a halt, throwing its rider over its head. Screams rent the air as he disappeared into the pit.
Mikira tried to turn Atara aside, but she was going too fast. She swallowed a yell a second before the horse leapt the pit.
She landed effortlessly on the other side and kept running.
Mikira glanced back at the gaping chasm. The rest of the racers had slowed in time, now forced to go around. She’d been the last to make it across—something that should have been impossible. Atara was only charmed for speed, endurance, and agility. How had she made that leap?
Swinging back around in the saddle, Mikira caught a glimpse of another rider. A girl with brown hair and a green Rach mask on a chestnut bay, racing along beside her. There was something familiar about her. The girl turned, revealing curious hazel eyes.
It was the rider from her last underground race, the one who’d drawn a knife on her.
She stared in wonder at the girl a second longer, before a sharp pain seared through her arm.
Crying out, she flattened herself over Atara’s neck just as something whizzed overhead. Hanging from the branches all around her were spiked balls attached to long strings, swinging back and forth like pendulums. More than one rider lay groaning on the leaf-strewn ground.
A mace swung toward Atara’s side, but she dodged it. It was all Mikira could do to cling to her as she darted through the swinging spikes withthe fleet-footedness of a gazelle. Her control, her agility—they were unlike anything Mikira had ever experienced.
She leaned close and put her trust in the horse’s instincts.
They burst from the spikes and into open woodland. Relief tore through Mikira as she sat upright, the motion pulling at her wounded arm. She hissed, but there was nothing she could do for it now. With how deftly Atara had handled the beginning of the course combined with her speed, they could be near the front of the pack. But between the pit, the maces, and whatever other obstacles the forest hid, there was no telling how many riders remained.
