Whoever edited this episode of The Princess Trials has decided to portray the Guardians as poised and well-mannered. I think that’s because this Echelon provides security, healthcare, architecture and everything else to maintain the country’s infrastructure.
In the next scene, they focus on the Artisans’ colorful gowns. I haven’t had a chance to speak to them, but the girls look cheerful compared to the Nobles, who appear coldly elegant.
All the highlights from our table focus on the Amstraadi girls’ attempts to goad Gemini and me into reacting to their taunts. Last night, I thought it had been Sabre making most of the comments, but I didn’t notice the other girls’ malicious glares until now. They don’t show any of the scenes where Ingrid tries to damage Rafaela’s reputation.
“Hey.” Berta stands over my machine. “That Nob looks confused.”
I switch my exerciser off. “Where?
She nods in the direction of a machine closest to the screen.
Ingrid stands between her exerciser and the screen. She leans across to a dark-haired Noble girl, who shrugs. What Ingrid probably doesn’t know is that the Chamber of Ministers want her to win.
With Montana being the Minister of Media and Prunella Broadleaf’s boss, there isn’t a chance for the viewing public to see the girl’s true personality. The camera trained on us makes me keep this information to myself.
I’m already cringing because I can guess what will come next. Prince Kevon rises from his seat and offers me his hand. The camera cuts to Queen Damascena, whose lips tighten with the same expression of distaste she made in my hospital room. Next to her, Ambassador Pascal leans forward, his eyes gleaming with interest.
“Did you two really go to the botanical gardens?” asks Berta.
“Where else would I have gone with him?” I turn my gaze from the scene to shoot her a glare.
She stares ahead and raises her shoulders. “I got talking to a bunch of the other girls, and they were saying—” Her jaw drops. “Ha!”
I spin around to the screen. “Wha—”
A snarling Lady Circi pulls a naked girl through a door and into a hallway. In the room behind her, a clothed Prince Kevon walks after the girl, but Queen Damascena wraps a hand around his forearm and stops him from following.
The girl’s dark hair covers her face, but I recognize the slender body. Panic flutters through my heart. This can’t be me because I wore a nightgown. The camera follows the two women down a hallway, and Lady Circi shoves her into an alcove.
Berta gives me a hard nudge that knocks me out of my stupor. “What’s he like, then?”
I shake my head. “That isn’t me.”
The next scene is of a girl with my head and someone else’s naked body. Lady Circi points a gun at the camera and makes the same threat.
I want to bellow into the camera that it’s a fabrication, but is there any point? Everyone stops their exerciser to stare at me, but nobody speaks. Prunella Broadleaf stands in the corner of the room and smirks.
Ingrid saunters across the gymnasium. “It looks like we have a pageant horse.”
As she steps forward, the other girls step off their machines and walk behind Ingrid. In moments, all the Nobles, Artisans, and Guardians form a wall between me and the door. I glance behind me, and Emmera stands six feet away with the Harvesters and Industrials. The Amstraadi girls sit up at their exerciser and watch with gleaming eyes.
“Pageant horse,” I snarl. “What does that mean?”
She chuckles. “A healthy, active girl like you should know the meaning of the word.”
I turn to Berta, who shakes her head.
“You don’t want to know,” she mutters.
“If they’re broadcasting this to Rugosa, people important to me might see this,” I say.
Ingrid wrinkles her nose. “It means that anyone can ride it. Much like how you comforted Prince Kevon in his moment of grief.”
I shake my head. “But that wasn’t me. It was—”
“The mysterious woman who pushed poor Rafaela van Eyck out of the window,” Ingrid says in a condescending tone that makes me want to wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze out her last breath.
She stands within striking distance, and to my left and right are camerawomen. “Girls like you who lie and cheat and steal innocent men always get what they deserve. If I become the queen, the first thing I will do is move you and your family back to the Barrens.”
“Do you have dung between your ears?” I snap. “I just told you it wasn’t me.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Take off your gym suit so we can compare you with the girl onscreen.” She sweeps her arm to the wall, where the footage of Lady Circi dragging off the girl replays.
I don’t know how they did this, but if OasisVision can alter Prince Kevon’s features to make him unrecognizable, they might be able to erase my hospital gown with the same technology.
My hands clench into fists. “Step aside.”
“Not until you explain yourself.” Ingrid turns to the other girls, who nod and mutter nasty comments.
“Forget this.” I shove her hard in the chest, and she staggers into a pink-haired Artisan girl.
The crowd parts. I storm to the exit, fling open the double doors, and run.
I don’t stop until I’m at the top floor hallway and in the safety of my room. A small, blonde figure lies face-down on the bed, and unmoving. The fire in my veins extinguish, and I step inside.
“Gemini?” I croak.
She doesn’t answer.
All the blood in my face trickles down to my thudding heart, and I force breaths in and out of my lungs.
“Not again,” I whisper. “Please, don’t.”
“Gemini?”
She doesn’t stir.
A mix of fear and nausea clenches at my insides, and I edge toward her bed, my boot leather squeaking over the wooden floor. Gemini can’t be dead. They were going to execute her in front of the viewing public.
My eyes squeeze shut. What if Prince Kevon had secured her pardon and whoever wanted her dead snuck in here to perform a private slaughter? What if
