CHAPTER ONE The Thief SKANDAR SMITH STARED AT THE unicorn poster opposite his bed. It was light enough outside now to see the unicorn’s wings outstretched mid-flight: shining silver armor covering most of his body, exposing only his wild red eyes, an enormous jaw, and a sharp gray horn. New-Age Frost had been Skandar’s favorite unicorn ever since his rider, Aspen McGrath, had qualified for the Chaos Cup three years ago. And Skandar thought that today—in this year’s race—they just might have a chance of winning. Skandar had received the poster for his thirteenth birthday three months before. He’d gazed at it through the bookshop window, imagining that he was New-Age Frost’s rider, standing just outside the poster frame ready to race. Skandar had felt really bad asking his dad for it. For as long as he could remember, they’d never had much money—he didn’t usually ask for anything. But Skandar had wanted the poster so badly and— A crash came from the kitchen. On any other day Skandar would have jumped out of bed, terrified there was a stranger in the flat. Usually he, or his sister, Kenna, asleep in the bed opposite, was in charge of making breakfast. Skandar’s dad wasn’t lazy—it wasn’t that—he just found it hard to get up most days, especially when he didn’t have a job to go to. And he hadn’t had one of those in a while. But today was no ordinary day. Today was race day. And for Dad, the Chaos Cup was better than birthdays, better even than Christmas.
