I turn to Berta. “Interim round. What does this mean?”
“This won’t be a beauty contest for much longer,” she mutters.
“Why?” I ask.
“There’s one thing I didn’t tell you about Amstraadi contests.” Berta pauses, and her lips tighten with annoyance. “They can get extremely violent. You and I should be fine, though. Those Amstraadi girls will only go after those with the best chance of winning.”
Despite my relief, a tiny piece of me bristles at Berta lumping me in the same category as her. I shake off the petty annoyance and ask, “Why?”
Berta raises her brows. “Do you know how precious their technology is to us?”
Before I can ask another question, one of the girls with blue-black hair from the Noble table shouts, “What’s happening? I didn’t sign up for an Amstraadi contest.”
“Neither did I.” The sole brown-haired Noble stands. She’s tall with a figure as slender as mine, but where I’m awkward, her movements have a flowing, willowy grace.
The other girls on her table grumble. I bite down on my lip. If Prunella gives into their demands to exclude the Amstraadi girls, it might mean getting rid of us. Gemini sniffles at my side. Her only chance of survival is if the revolution happens before her public execution.
“Ladies,” Prunella shouts, clapping her palms together. “Ladies! The matter is out of my hands. Anyone who objects to the interim round may bow out now and forfeit her space to a suitable young lady in her echelon.”
Silence spreads around the dining room, and the Noble girls sit.
Prunella exhales a long breath, and the tenseness in her posture relaxes. After rolling her shoulders, she nods at the co-host from yesterday, who hurries forward with his entourage of camerawomen, and Prunella’s harried expression morphs into an excited smile.
The co-host introduces himself as Byron Blake and asks Prunella about the exciting new development to the Princess Trials.
She beams into the camera. “With all these charming new contestants, it’s time to shake things up!”
My eyes bulge. The Trials haven’t even started yet, and she’s already adding obstacles to my mission.
“What can these young ladies expect?” asks Byron Blake.
“An exciting new trial with an educational twist.” Prunella raises a manicured finger.
I lean forward, hoping she’s talking about a written test, but considering everyone’s reaction about the Princess Trials turning into an Amstraad contest, it’s probably going to be dangerous enough to get Gemini killed.
“When the girls have finished their trials, they’ll attend a ball in honor of the Republic of Amstraad. His Excellency, Ambassador Pascal, will bring thirty of his finest young gentlemen to waltz with our young ladies.”
My brows draw together. How precious could this Amstraadi technology be if they’re allowing this ambassador so much influence over the Princess Trials?
“Fascinating.” Byron rubs his chin. “Then what?”
“Then, the public will decide who will join Prince Kevon in the palace for another round of the Princess Trials!”
My ears perk up. Whatever happens, I’ve got to make the public like me enough to be one of the thirty who reach the palace round. I hope the cameras broadcast this to Rugosa, because the last thing I want Carolina and Ryce to think is that I’ve failed.
Byron gives Prunella a knowing wink. “There’s one more change that will delight our viewers.”
Prunella bounces on the balls of her feet. “His Excellency has agreed to supply Phangloria’s hospitals with a year’s supply of medicines in exchange for giving twelve Amstraadi beauties the chance to compete for the hand of Prince Kevon.”
The assistants around the room applaud. Some of them turn to us and raise their palms in a motion encouraging us to do the same. We all ignore her. If there are thirty places at the palace, adding the twelve Amstraadi means that two or three from each Echelon will have to go home. It’s a massive disappointment considering everything we’ve endured to get here.
“Will our foreign guests join us for the palace round?” asks Byron with far too much enthusiasm.
“Would you like to meet them?” Prunella replies.
He turns to the camera with wide eyes and an exaggerated gasp. “Are they here already?”
“They certainly are.” Prunella beckons at the camera. “Come in, ladies!”
A door behind us opens, and a statuesque girl with ebony skin and bleached blonde curls walks out. She’s wearing the same jumpsuits as us, except she fills hers even better than the Nobles. Behind her is a pale blonde with platinum hair, and behind her is a girl with similar skin but red hair and freckles.
“They’ve brought every color of the rainbow,” mutters Berta.
She’s not joking. The girls represent every possible shade of skin, and two of them resemble Nobles with their blue-black hair. I chew on the inside of my cheek. They must have pre-arranged this surprise entry because it doesn’t seem possible to arrange extra outfits and this interim building overnight.
I drum my fingers on the table, watching the procession of beauties march down the room. The Amstraad Republic is at the far north-west of the continent, four-thousand miles from Phangloria. Even with the best solar vehicles, it would take them nearly a month to travel to us in the south-east.
Behind them walks Lady Circi wearing her usual black catsuit and a scowl more ferocious than her firearms. Somehow, I don’t think she was informed of the new arrangements. I turn around to see if Queen Damascena or Ambassador Pascal will join us, but they are conveniently absent.
The cameras follow the Amstraadi girls, who form a line at the top of the room and smile winningly for the camera. Afterward, they lower themselves into the seats at the front tables.
“Welcome, honored guests,” says Prunella with a tight grin. “Ladies, please stand for the young gentleman who has captured our hearts, Prince Kevon of Phangloria!”
Another set of doors opens, and Garrett walks through, wearing black civilian clothes. His blue-black hair is slicked back, much like how Prince Kevon styled his hair in the clip they showed of him with King Arias.
I
