I glance at Carolina, who stares at me with the same eager expression as her son. My heart skips. What I did today with my poisoned dart has given them some kind of hope.
Camel reed grows in the water filtration plants and around the expanse of drylands separating Rugosa from the Barrens, as does bamboo. They’re both types of grasses with hollow stems and are plentiful. Plentiful enough to equip thousands of Harvesters with blowguns.
Hope thrums through my insides, and I clear my throat. “Do you want me to make—”
Carolina raises a finger, making my mouth click shut. “Two hundred guard the palace.”
She steps back, and a cool smile crosses her features. It’s the barest curve of the lips without an ounce of mirth or warmth, but her breathing quickens, and her blue eyes become manic.
What is she talking about? I drop my gaze to the thickest machine gun on the wall, whose scope looks long enough to shoot a person from a thousand feet.
Ryce’s large hand slides around my waist, and it takes every ounce of self-control not to fall into a gibbering heap. His warmth seeps through the fabric of my dress, and his earthy scent fills my nostrils, making my heart pound so hard that its reverberations reach my fingertips.
I squeeze my eyes shut and focus on the situation. This isn’t real. If Ryce Wintergreen wanted to make a move on me, he wouldn’t do it in front of his mother.
A thousand armed rebels could subdue two hundred palace guards, but Carolina’s suggestion is flawed. Even if we traveled through Phangloria undetected, we would never get through the palace gates. Nobody gets to enter that building unless they’re royals, ambassadors from the other kingdoms, or nobles. Or…
My head snaps up. “The Princess Trials.”
Ryce steps away with an approving nod. “I told you Zea would be perfect for this mission.”
“Me?” I slap my hand to my chest.
“Why not?” Ryce walks around me in a circle. “You’re pretty enough to reach the finals. Committed enough to find a hidden passageway into the palace. Brave enough to lead the revolution.”
“A spy mission?” My voice shakes.
Carolina nods. “You’re the only Harvester girl in the age bracket we can trust.”
A sharp breath whistles through my teeth. All these years, I thought myself an anonymous foot soldier. Carolina and Ryce barely acknowledged me after I had failed to identify Mr. Wintergreen’s murderer. No matter how hard I trained in Ryce’s youth cell, I had felt beneath their notice.
Ryce stops circling and places both hands on my shoulders. “You’ve grown from a frightened girl to a warrior brave enough to risk her life to save another.”
Carolina stands at his side and dabs a knuckle at the corner of her eye. “Just like my Sylvester.”
The reminder of Mr. Wintergreen makes my heart still. For a moment, I’m that quaking little girl who stepped into Carolina’s kitchen to share the terrible news. Dad had held onto my shoulders to keep me from falling into a sobbing heap as I spluttered out the words. Seeing Carolina howl with grief had nearly been as bad as witnessing the guard’s attack on poor Mr. Wintergreen.
“You can do this.” Ryce squeezes my shoulders.
His words snap me into the present, and I’m lost in his eyes. They’re the same color as mine but on the opposite spectrum of blue—pale as the horizon with flecks of white, reminding me of the sky before the rainy season. His pupils contract, and his hand lands on my shoulder, slides up my neck, and cups my face.
My pulse flutters in my throat in time with the butterflies in my stomach. Ryce Wintergreen has never looked at me like this, as though I’m the answer to a longing deep within his heart.
“When you lead us into the revolution, Harvesters like us will be free to choose more than one path.” His gaze drops to my lips. “I’ve never courted a girl. Do you know why?”
Every instinct tells me that his interest in me is moving too quickly. Mom would warn me that this was just a ploy to get me to agree to something reckless. Despite this, I find myself whispering, “Why?”
“Phangloria is no place for a Harvester to start a family,” he says. “I won’t condemn a child to a life of hunger and hard labor.”
His words stir up the well of dissatisfaction in my heart. It no longer matters if Ryce Wintergreen is faking an interest to get me to perform a mission. I’m a Harvester and a Red Runner committed to the revolution. This might be our one chance to smash the oppressive Echelon system.
I break eye contact. “What do you want me to do?”
Ryce steps away, and Carolina’s harsh features fill my vision. The strobe light turns the blue in her eyes white. “Infiltrate the palace, find the hidden entrances, and don’t fall in love with the handsome prince.”
Chapter 3
Carolina and Ryce stare at me, their postures taut and their eyes bright with expectation. The racks of weapons gleam under the strobe light, and I can now picture them in the arms of brave rebels. Of all the Harvester girls in the kingdom, the leaders of the Red Runners have chosen me to open the gates to the revolution.
My lungs fill with deep, satisfied breaths, and I bask in their attention. This is the proudest moment in all my sixteen years.
If I succeed in this mission, it will erase the cowardice that taints my soul. It will be for Mr. Wintergreen, for all the Harvester girls who have ever suffered at the hands of a guard, for those Foundlings who survive in shanties by the Great Wall because they’re not deemed genetically fit to live in Phangloria.
Mom will be surprised when she discovers that I’ve taken her advice. One girl can make a difference, and that girl is
