From now on, however long you want to play at being Caelan Nightfang, it has nothing to do with me.
I turned, still smiling, and walked toward the stands. I didn't look back.
I had barely settled into my seat when the roar of the crowd swelled through the arena. Racers entered one by one, and among them was Alaric. When his turn came, the cheering surged higher, wave after wave crashing over the stands.
Chloe sat down beside me. Her gaze was fixed on the track, but her words drifted toward me as though they'd slipped out by accident.
"Big sister, you shouldn't keep sinking into grief over Alaric's death. You really should get out more." Her voice was light, almost weightless. "Some things are just fate. Think about it. Your mate and my mate were on the same ship during the storm-tide, and yet yours is the one who died. Mine survived."
She paused, and something crept into her tone, faint and unmistakable. Superiority.
"I know these past weeks have been hard for you, but that's just how fate works. Your luck has never been as good as mine. So you might as well learn to let go and look ahead."