Page 11 (1/2)

I’h, the curved wood rings scraping on my feet as I propelthe slow but sure way He’s good but I’ to reach the tower first

So thee the speed of a wheel’s turn so I can justto slip, I sit down hard on the edge It cuts intoby ers like a reo

When I hit the ground I roll to absorb the shock but pretend to sprawl, taking up precious ti

Sand chafesto lose and look cluround to the tower He swar back

With er slashing through s the victor’s ribbon and pulls off hisapproval

In official trials the winner has to take off the mask in front of the entire assembly

That’s why I have to lose

To ht black hair, dark eyes, and a pale golden cohest Patrons of all, palace-born Most likely his household has its own Fives stable of players and a private training court

He glances down at me A narrow-eyed frown shades his face

He’s not as happy about his win as he ought to be

Shaking, I cran the ladder into the undercourt

As the crowd roars, I re back and checking on e to the retiring hall, separate fro hall so no one who has run the court can exchange inforives me my satchel and a cup of the sweet nectar that only adversaries and the royal faulp and al--they aren’t allowed to talk to the adversaries for fear of bribes and favors trading hands--but her brorinkles with curiosity I still havedown the empty cup I hurry on

Gate-custodians allow uarded below and above