Not daring to turn my back on the Nobles, I grope behind me for the handrail. “The next time someone tries to abduct any of you, I’ll let them do what they want.”
Ingrid places a hand over her mouth and mimics a yawn. “Get out before I fill you with bullets.”
I clutch the metal rail with my free hand and take my first backward step down the vehicle’s stairs. Ingrid turns to me and winks. She probably knows that she’s landed me in the worst trouble of my life. Mom told me all about life in the Barrens. The electrified fence that separates that part of Phangloria from the Echelons isn’t just to keep out the Foundlings. It’s to contain deadly creatures, including black bears, great wolves, and rattlesnakes.
A few steps later, my feet hit the ground. The doors hiss closed, and the vehicle continues down the floodlit highway that stretches for miles.
“Thanks for nothing,” I mutter to the vehicle’s retreating backlights.
I tilt my head to a cloudless sky littered with stars, and a sigh slips from my lips. Which way should I go? To my left is a steep slope covered in scrub and the occasional umbrella-shaped tree. I can’t tell how deep the mountain goes, but a fire flickers about half a mile down, streaming smoke up to the sky.
A shiver travels down my spine. I pick up my voluminous skirts and rush to the other side of the road, where the ground slopes up at an even sharper angle. There’s less of a chance of being seen by whoever has started that fire. I walk back toward the Oasis. If I hide close to the electric fence, I’ll be able to slip through the gate when the Freedom Army sends vehicles after the girls.
Leaves rustle overhead. A screech fills my ears, then the frantic beat of wings. My heart pulses, and I spin around. The largest bird I’ve ever seen launches itself into the sky and soars above the valley. But further down the road, the vehicle’s brake lights glow red before it reverses toward me.
Relief loosens the tension around my chest, and I cross the road. Did Ingrid run out of bullets or Berta change her mind about leaving me alone in the Barrens?
I stand at the roadside with my feet planted at hip-width in case I need to duck. My gun rests in my hand at chest-height in case I need to shoot. The armored personnel carrier speeds toward me, and I step back in case I need to dive out of the way. It stops ten feet ahead from where I’m standing, and the doors open.
“Hello?” I shout.
Nobody answers.
“Hey!”
When there’s still no answer, I gulp. That woman I set on fire wasn’t dead. What if she released toxic gas into the bus and made everyone fall asleep or worse, killed them? I place my finger on the trigger and take a tentative step toward the open door.
It’s a stupid move. Those girls left me alone to fester in the Barrens, not knowing if I would get attacked by any of the dangerous creatures lurking in the dark, and not caring that the reinforcements would be rushing to avenge my attack on their comrades.
I should run down into the trees, but the notion of encountering whoever started that fire down the mountain scares me more than a furious Amstraad soldier wanting to shoot me in the face.
I glance up at the window, and the pale face of an Artisan girl stares back. It’s the pink-haired girl who excelled in Mistress Pavane’s class. I search her expression for clues, such as the barest shake of her head, but she only leans forward and nods.
The Noble girl who sat across the aisle from me pokes her head out of the door and scowls. “Are you coming, or should we leave you to become the bride of a two-headed Foundling?”
My shoulders relax, and I quicken my steps. “Fine.”
She pokes her head back into the vehicle. Just as I reach the door, she ducks, revealing Constance Spryte with a pistol held in both hands.
A gunshot rings through the air. I leap aside, but intense heat sears my left shoulder. With a pained hiss, I fall backward and roll down the mountainside amid a rain of gunfire. Clouds of dry earth fill my mouth and eyes and throat as I tumble toward the source of the fire. I grab at desiccated undergrowth to slow my descent, but only uproot the plants.
My head slams into the side of a tree trunk, sending a shock of pain across my skull. I scramble around the shelter on my hands and knees and sit at its base. Somehow, I managed to hold onto the gun, but my hands shake too much for it to be of any use.
Everything aches. I’m sure I’ve knocked my shoulder out of joint, but the pain is nothing compared to the bullet wound. Breathing hard, I raise my trembling fingers to the injury and snatch them away. Right now, the best thing I can do for myself is to leave it alone. There’s no telling how long I can survive if I catch an infection or get blood poisoning.
“Zea-Mays Popcorn,” shouts Ingrid’s taunting voice. “Where are you?”
I clench my teeth, wondering what kind of idiot she thinks I would be to answer.
“We took a vote,” she says. “Should we return to save you, or should we return to eliminate you from the Princess Trials?”
My shoulder wound has a pulse of its own that pounds in sync with my rapid heart. I lean against the trunk and breathe through the pain. Why on earth would she concern herself about the trials with Prince Kevon taken prisoner?
“Guess
