Free Relic (The Books of Eva I) by Heather Terrell

Suitor—I mean, the other Testor—claimed, too.”
    Obviously, he doesn’t believe either one of us, but I don’t think that is the point of his words. By his Suitor remark—a clear, if brazen, indication of what he thinks of the Triad’s decision to allow me to Test, that I’m nothing more than a Maiden awaiting a Union and I should never have been allowed the honor of Testing—he means to shake me. He might as well have said, “Let me send you home.”
    Under his gaze, I begin to feel even more frightened. Maybe it’s the late-night visit from Jasper. It’s not as horrific a crime as conspiring with another Testor, but it’s grounds for expulsion from the Testing nonetheless. Maybe it’s my use of remedies. Certainly its use would get me thrown out of the Testing, not to mention warrant punishment back in the Aerie. But I do not allow him to see me shake.
    Finally, he delivers his verdict. “May the Gods go with you. But remember, it will be me—not the Gods—watching your every move, Testor.”
    I watch as he mounts his sled and cracks his whip heavily on his dogs; he’s a cruel master to his team, I’m sure. I am immobilized as he departs. I’ve learned something valuable and unexpected, as Lukas promised I would. But I didn’t foresee this: my sudden understanding that the Scout does not want me in the Testing, and that he will do whatever he can to keep me from success. And he may not be alone. Part of me wants to race over to Jasper and make certain he understands the Scout’s meaning, but a bigger part of me wants to distance myself from Jasper completely. To protecthim—from me and from himself.
    Only a bell and a half remain until the first horn of mornings, so I busy myself. Even though I am trying hard to concentrate on the tasks necessary for the
sinik
ahead—on anything but the Scout, really—I’m acutely aware of noises coming from the other side of the iceberg. Noises that mimic the ones I’m making. The crackle of a fire, the whoosh of a tent pulled down, the growl of the dogs as they compete over their food, the thud of the sled being loaded.
    Bags packed, dogs ready, I mount my own sled. The orange-red sun begins to show on the horizon, and I tighten my goggles to brace myself for the blinding rays, magnified as they reflect off the snow. I whistle for the dogs to get into place; movement of the sled is permitted before the horn for this purpose alone.
    As we skirt the iceberg, I pass Jasper. Even though I’m trying hard not to make eye contact—the Scout could be watching—I notice he’s limping only a bit as he crosses the ice toward his sled. I’m relieved my ministrations last night helped. But my biggest worry doesn’t concern his wound. I’m worried that he might have missed the Scout’s message. If Jasper plans on staying close to me, he will be caught in the Scouts’ web, too.

The horn sounds, and I no longer have time to think. The dogs, trained to race at the very tick they hear it, take off. The
sinik
is bright and clear, and the snow is
mingullaut
, the perfect mix of ice and powder. The terrain proves flat and even, for now. My team is in their element; I simply let them loose.
    Lukas’s map shows that the quickest route to the Taiga is a direct northeastern one. The same route Jasper seems to be following. I suppose that either Jasper or I could veer off to maintain a distance, but that would require we speak. And there’s no way I’m going to initiate a conversation with Scouts lurking everywhere. So we ride to the Taiga close together, as is natural.
    Ostensibly, we ignore one another. We never speak, neverglance at the other. We simply drive our teams as hard as possible to the Taiga border, and, to my surprise, we are evenly matched in skill and speed. If a Scout was watching, he would have nothing untoward to report. Nothing in The Lex prohibits Testors sledding in close proximity. Sometimes the topography makes it absolutely necessary. But I feel