“Yes, Minister.” My voice projects around the room, giving me a mild surprise.
“You must only speak when addressed, and you must answer only the questions posed. Is that understood?” The condescension in her voice makes me curl my fists.
I shake my head, and a few people in the public gallery chuckle.
She frowns. “What is the matter, Miss Calico?”
“I want to tell everyone what happened last night.”
“That won’t be necessary as we already have the camera footage,” says the minister.
“But, not everything was—” A mild jolt of electricity pulses through my seat. I flinch, taking the sting as a warning to stay quiet, or they’ll dial up the voltage. I clench my teeth. “I didn’t just leave the vehicle, those girls—”
The microphone that broadcasts my voice cuts off, leaving me talking to myself.
“Then I am glad we have witnesses like you to paint the rest of the picture of last night’s events.” The Minister of Justice glances down at the tablet. “Why did the Foundling attack the other girls and not you?”
Alarm pulses through my heart, and my seat becomes too warm. I can’t tell the ministers that it was me who attacked the girls. They’ll never believe me that it was in self-defense, and I’ll end up with a metal collar around my neck.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and I think of something to say. “I was in another part of the mountain and heard gunshots. When I found the girls lying unconscious, I thought a rattlesnake had gotten to them, so I ran to get help.”
“What happened to Berta Ridgeback after the Foundling attacked?” she asks.
“She…” My gaze catches a couple sitting in the front of the visitor’s gallery, who lean forward.
The woman wears the white coat of a doctor with the same ash-blonde hair as Berta, and the man is clad in a guard’s uniform. He’s twice the woman’s size with Berta’s strong jaw and hard eyes.
“She chased after me, and then there was a rockslide. I hit my head and lost consciousness after that.”
The woman turns to the man and buries her head in his shoulder, but the man’s stare hardens. Panic spikes through my chest. He knows I’m lying. I snatch my gaze away and meet the Minister of Justice’s dark eyes.
The woman raises her brows. “Where was Miss Ridgeback when you awoke?”
I shake my head.
“Miss Calico?” she asks.
“She wasn’t there.” My rasping voice echoes across the vast chamber, making me cringe. “Last night, I heard her tumble after me down the mountain… I don’t know what happened after that, Minister.”
On my left, the screen switches to Prince Kevon, who stands with his hand raised, and chatter spreads across the tiers of spectators.
The Minister of Justice turns to the source of the sound and leans forward. “Your Highness, do you have something to add?”
“As soon as I discovered that the ballroom attack was part of the Princess Trials, I rushed to the Barrens to the girls’ aid. I found Miss Calico severely injured in a ditch, but there was no sign of Miss Ridgeback.”
My throat spasms. Prince Kevon just lied to protect me.
“I commend your act of chivalry, Your Highness.” The minister claps her hands together. “Very well. Now that we have heard from all parties and uncovered what happened to Rafaela van Eyck, it is time to finalize who will join Prince Kevon in the palace.”
My lips part to let out a surprised breath. That’s it? My gaze darts to Prunella Broadleaf, who slumps on the bench. What’s going to happen to her?
Wasn’t the vote at the ball the decider for the palace round of the Trials? These people keep changing the rules to suit themselves.
The assistant returns to my sides and pulls a lever that makes the door click open. Without waiting to be dismissed, I step down from the interrogation device and walk across the floor, through the gate, and back up the stairs with Prince Kevon.
“Ambassador Pascal has already chosen which six of his young ladies will join the palace,” says the minister. “We would like to speed things along by paring down the number from our side to twelve. On your tablets are the names and faces of each eligible girl.”
I reach the top and slide into the seat next to Prince Kevon, who holds my hand. Even though I can guess with certainty that I’ve been removed from the list of candidates, but I no longer care. My mission is complete, and every fiber of self-preservation tells me that if I stay a single day longer in the Oasis, I will be the next to die.
Prince Kevon gives me a warm, optimistic smile that crushes my heart. If I don’t make the final twelve, he’ll want me to stay in the guesthouse. But the more information I gather on palace security, the heavier the obligation becomes to share that information with Carolina.
A lump forms in my throat. If Prince Kevon becomes the ruler of Phangloria, I no longer want a revolution.
“The votes are in,” says the Minister of Justice. “Montana, will you do the honors?”
Montana rises from his seat and walks to the middle of the floor. “The twelve Phanglorians to progress to the palace round are Ingrid Strab, Constance Spryte, Darby Abraham, Villosa Belmont, Virginia Moyesii, Jaqueline Bellini, Petra Lombard, Paris Kanone, Minnie Werfer, Tulip Ironside, Emmera Hull, and Vitelotte Pyrus.”
Applause echoes across the chambers and reaches my ears in a roar of sound. I lean back and stare at the faces projected on the screen. Five Nobles, three Guardians, two Artisans, two Harvesters, and neither of them are me.
I’m going home.
Prince Kevon squeezes my hand so hard that it hurts. He doesn’t want to let go, and I stare ahead, not knowing how to explain that we have no future. Prince Kevon might have filled my heart to the point where there’s little
