“And last is Vitelotte Solar, the girl with the rapier wit!” Montana says as her footage flashes on the screen.
My shoulders droop, and I slump into my seat. What on earth happened to Forelle?
Chapter 10
By the time the guards open the door to what I’ve come to think of as our cell, my eyelids droop, and my head slumps to my chest then jolts me awake. Their presence washes away all fatigue, and I spring to my feet.
“Bedtime.” One of them beckons with a gloved hand.
“Where are you taking us?” I ask.
“Let’s go.” Berta pushes past, knocking me to one side.
The guards march us out of the room, down the concert hall stairs, and into a vast, underground chamber littered with dozens of the same black vehicles that patrol the Harvester region. One of the men opens the door to a windowless van, revealing nothing but a single bench set within white space.
Berta hops inside and sits. She folds her arms and stretches out her legs as though getting into the back of armored vans is a daily occurrence.
I climb inside, taking my cue from Berta and try to relax, but it’s hard with Gemini’s sobs filling my ears. As the van turns a corner, her trembling body leans to my side, and she flinches whenever I offer comfort. Her misery is a constant reminder of how important it is for me to find those hidden passageways so that the Red Runners can save her life.
Ten minutes later, the van stops, the doors open, and we’re in a similar space only smaller and with fewer vehicles. The guards march us up six flights of stairs, down a hallway, and into a sparse room.
It’s twice the size of mine with four beds, each with white sheets tucked taut over thin mattresses. At the foot of each bed is a small trunk on top of which lie folded clothes. I walk to the bed by the window and peer outside. Tall lamp posts illuminate flower-bearing trees we saw on the way to the Concert hall.
“This isn’t the palace,” I murmur.
Berta snorts. “Is this yokel humor?”
Just for that comment, I take the bed by the window, which at least has a decent view.
“Ha.” She unfolds one of the garments at the foot of the bed. It’s a long nightgown. “At least Pixel won’t need to get changed.”
I lie in bed, trying to fall asleep. The bed is softer than my straw mattress, but there’s a metal frame with no give. Berta snores, Gemini sobs, and I can’t stop twisting the ring around my finger and wondering how Ryce will react to my performance at the audition.
As I drift off, my finger pulses, and I jolt awake and decipher the code.
ITS RYCE.
My eyes snap open, and I raise my head. Moonlight drifts in through the window, lighting up our room. Berta is still sleeping, and Gemini is silent. I stare down at my finger, wondering if he’s close.
CONGRATULATIONS. ARE YOU SEARCHING THE PALACE?
I gulp and squeeze the ring. We never learned about these devices in the Red Runners. I only know Vail code because it’s the system we use for tapping out messages with our fingers. How can I explain to him that they took us somewhere else?
COMPLETE YOUR MISSION SOON. YOU WERE SO STRONG AND BEAUTIFUL TONIGHT. I AM DYING TO SEE YOU AGAIN.
My eyes flutter shut. I lean against the headrest and sigh. I’m so glad Ryce approves of how I dealt with Prunella Broadleaf. Carolina would probably scold me for reacting in the face of provocation, but Ryce understands.
I slide under the covers and wait for him to say something else. Ryce seems to be holding out for the perfect woman. He has to choose me. I yearn to fight by his side during the revolution and rule gracefully beside him when he eventually takes leadership of the new democracy.
My thoughts drift to Forelle, who I expect is furious that Emmera ruined her chances for getting through to the next round. If anyone deserved a luxury break with food and water and rest, it was her.
Soon, exhaustion pulls me into a deep, dreamless sleep that keeps me under until the first rays of sun shine on my eyelids. I sit up in bed and glance around the room. Berta lies still, neither snoring nor breathing loudly, and Gemini sleeps. It’s the most peaceful I’ve seen the girl since she arrived in that room last night.
I glance at my ring for signs of activity, but when no message arrives, I swing my legs out of bed and look out of the window. Beyond the trees is a long, stone building that takes up an entire block. It might be the same one we passed yesterday morning.
“Trying to escape?” Berta asks.
“Why would I want to do that?” I turn and lean against the windowpane.
Berta sits upright. She pulls her long, ash-blonde hair into a braid, which accentuates her strong features. Her eyes have an owlish, unblinking stare. They’re set far apart, and a thick nose bridge fills the gap. I can’t say that she’s unattractive—she isn’t, but it’s her harsh words and blunt personality that make her unlikeable.
“Your face last night when I told you about the bucking bronco. You looked like someone holding back a wet fart.”
I wrinkle my nose. “That perfectly describes your feelings about being the underdog.”
Her face twists into a scowl. “Even if Prince Kevon liked you, they’d never allow him to marry a Harvester.”
One corner of my lip twitches. It’s the same expression Ryce makes when something should make him smile. Berta probably thinks I’m a backward country girl who believes in fairytale romances. If only she knew.
She leans forward. “What?”
“Let’s just say I’m optimistic about the future.”
“What does that mean?
I turn back to the window. “You wouldn’t be interested. It’s just a yokel phrase.”
She huffs
