I step away from her and clutch the box to my chest. “I can dress myself.”
Dr. Ridgeback glances at Queen Damascena for approval before returning to the leather armchair and picking up the champagne.
I lean my back against a closet door and ease my arms out of the jumpsuit. Both women watch me in silence as though there’s nothing to entertain them on NetFace. Something hums on the table next to the queen. It’s a printer spitting out card after card of words.
Holding the edges of the jumpsuit to my underarms, I pull out my Harvester tunic and ease it over my head and shoulders without revealing an inch of my underwear. The entire process of dressing takes three times longer than usual. When I’ve finished, the queen orders me to braid my hair into pigtails.
Later, she throws the cards across the floor and leans back into her seat. “Memorize these phrases.”
“What are they for?” I pick them up.
“Your confession will be live. You only have one chance to get the words right.” She leans forward, catches a card coming out of a printer, and flings it across the van.
The card lands on my chest, and I grimace at its contents. “Do I have to say these things about Prince Kevon to the whole of Phangloria?”
“My son needs to understand that Harvesters are trained coyotes that always bite their masters.” She waves a dismissive hand. “Sure, they’ll lick your fingers, perform their duties, and sleep at the foot of your bed, but one moment of inaction, and they’ll attack like wolves.”
“Is that what you believe?” I ask.
Queen Damascena rolls her eyes and holds up her tablet. “Do you need a demonstration?”
“No.” She probably has a band of coyotes in that stadium, ready to prove her point at the expense of my family. I shuffle the cards, reading their hateful contents. “I’ll say exactly what you want.”
The van stops, and the queen makes me practice my confession until she’s satisfied with my words. I now understand why she ordered Dr. Ridgeback to inject me with an emotion suppressant. There’s enough truth in my claims to convince Prince Kevon that I really did set out to murder him and take his throne and enough dangerous lies to make me crumple to the floor and weep.
Queen Damascena flicks her wrist, ordering Dr. Ridgeback to stand. The other woman walks to the van’s door and turns the handle, letting in the morning sun.
I squint into the light, not knowing how much time has passed since I killed Dad, if the rest of my family is still alive, or if my words will turn them into the most despised people in Phangloria.
The queen shoos me out of the van, and I step out into the front of the Royal Hospital.
A breath catches in the back of my throat, and I turn to the excited queen. “Why am I making my confession here?”
“My son is convalescing from his heart attack brought on by the shock of your betrayal.” She loops her arm through mine. “You’re going to convince him that everything I uncovered was true.”
Queen Damascena marches me through the hospital’s automatic doors and into a cool, vast lobby shaped like a dome sliced in half. Thirty feet from the entrance, climbing plants grow from tall flower beds that surround the reception area, and escalators on both sides of the reception carry hospital staff up to a mezzanine. The top of the half-dome consists of transparent, triangular windows that let in the sun but not the heat.
The area beneath the mezzanine is sectioned into large booths, where Nobles sit with white-coated professionals for hair styling, nail maintenance, and electrically charged facial treatments I can’t even begin to describe.
As we pass the escalators, Nobles incline their heads and murmur greetings to the queen, but nobody stops to crowd her. I wonder if that’s because the hospital only caters for the top tiers of their Echelon.
That suppressant must be wearing off, but the thought of saying those terrible things to Prince Kevon makes my stomach clench and churn.
Queen Damascena glances down at my rumbling belly and sniffs. “If you’re hungry, you should have eaten in the van.”
There’s no answer to a comment like that. Instead, I stare straight ahead at Dr. Ridgeback, who stops at an elevator manned by guards in white. They bow and step aside to let us in.
As soon as the elevator doors shut, Queen Damascena releases me with a hard shove and brushes imaginary dust off her arm.
Sweat gathers on my brow. My stomach clenches in time with the palpitations of my heart, making sharp pains shoot through my insides. Sweat beads on my brow, and my fingers tremble.
I lean forward and clutch my belly. “Why can’t I say these things to the camera?”
“What difference does it make? In an hour, you’ll never see him again.” Her violet eyes rove my face with a moue of disgust, then she turns to the doctor. “What’s wrong with her? I thought you said this suppressant would stop the crocodile tears.”
The doctor frowns. “I gave her the maximum tolerated dose, Your Majesty.”
The queen’s mouth goes slack, and she stares at her new lady-at-arms as though she can’t believe anyone could be so merciful.
Dr. Ridgeback reaches into her bag and pulls out a hypodermic needle.
Forcing myself to straighten, I raise both hands. “Please. I’ll say what you want. Just don’t give me any more of that drug.”
The doctor glances at the queen for permission, who smiles and waves her away.
When the elevator doors open, Queen Damascena steps out into a hallway lined with armed guards. I wait for Dr. Ridgeback to exit, not wanting her and her hypodermic needle at my back.
I should press the button on the steel wall and command the elevator to return me to the ground floor, but Dad’s unseeing eyes fill my
