“Well…” Words dry up in the back of my throat.
Back then, I had felt sick with betrayal. I’m still sore about how so many of the girls sat back and allowed Ingrid to rally others against me. Maybe they were scared, like Vitelotte.
Maybe some of them still remembered the doctored footage of Lady Circi dragging a naked girl away from Prince Kevon. I don’t know. But I once did nothing while another Harvester girl needed my help, and that’s a burden I’ll carry for the rest of my life.
Vitelotte reaches into the pack and pulls out the chainsaw and a hunting knife with a seven-inch blade. “If I can help, it might make up for failing you yesterday.”
I shake my head. It took a knife in the back and nearly dying to put things into perspective. Mom was right when she said one girl can’t save the world, just like she said years ago that a frightened nine-year-old wasn’t capable of stopping a guard from committing murder. Such intense, irrational guilt caused my obsession with Ryce Wintergreen, a man I only know from afar.
“It’s me who owes you,” I whisper. “Because of you, I didn’t fall to my death or get mauled by a pair of ligers.”
Her silence tells me she isn’t remotely convinced, and I exhale a weary breath. We’ve got bigger things to worry about right now, and we can’t crouch in a tree hollow all night. Neither of the girls who followed us show signs of returning, and I’m about to suggest we leave, but the sounds of two new sets of feet landing close by makes us both freeze.
By now, all traces of the sun have disappeared, and dark clouds cover the sky. Whoever is moving toward us also wears camouflage, and I see nothing but the glow of a tablet computer.
“Are you sure she’s not dead?” says an approaching voice. “It says here that she hasn’t moved in ages.”
“Shhh!”
Dread rolls through my belly. What on earth was on that tablet computer? My coordinates? My hand flies to the tiny bulge over my breastbone. They can’t be reading coordinates from the tomato pendant. Nobody knows about it except Prince Kevon and the Thymel siblings who made my ballgown. I wrap a hand around my Amstraad cuff and shake my head. This is a new monitor from the royal physician.
A tiny light flashes on the buckle of my belt, and I clench my teeth. If they’ve installed cameras in our clothing then it makes sense that they might also add a few trackers.
“We’ve got to get out of here,” I whisper.
Vitelotte shakes her head. “Too late.”
The footsteps are heavy, confident, and they crack twigs underfoot. Vitelotte gives me a nudge to get ready, and my hand closes around the ax. I don’t want to hurt anyone, but if they attack first, I’ll retaliate with full force.
“She’s probably injured.” The first voice sounds gleeful.
The other girl chuckles. “It makes our job easier.”
“Can you move around them and attack from the back?” I whisper to Vitelotte.
She nods and crawls out of the burrow. Within seconds, she disappears into the dark, and all I can see is the glow of the tablet computer’s screen.
“Did you hear anything?” the first voice whispers.
“What?”
“A rustling sound.”
She chuckles. “It’s her.”
With a click, the beam of a flashlight illuminates the trees. “Zea-Mays Calico,” says the gleeful voice. “Show yourself.”
I make a loud whimper to distract them from Vitelotte, and the beam shines into the hollow.
“There you are,” says one girl.
“Who are you?” I crawl out of the burrow, hoping I’ve given my new friend enough time. A tiny voice in the back of my mind asks what I will do if she has escaped into the woods, but I shake it off. “Are you contestants?”
“Not for the role of the next queen,” she replies.
“Let me guess,” I inject as much boredom as I can into my voice. “Someone offered you the role of lady-at-arms in exchange for my death?”
A tense silence stretches out for several heartbeats. I don’t know if they’re shocked that I’ve worked out their plan or disconcerted by my silence, but I can’t let their attention waver from me for much longer, in case they find Vitelotte.
“Then you’re from the Guardian Echelon.” I rise to my feet with the ax. “Care to share your names so everyone in Phangloria knows who’s trying to murder me?”
The girl’s painted face splits into a grin of uncamouflaged teeth. “Minnie has jammed the camera’s broadcasting signals, and we found a canister of QuickBurn in one of our packs. By the time the drones find your burned, broken body, all our forensics will be ash.”
Bile rises to the back of my throat, and I grind my teeth. This is no treasure hunt. It’s another of those multi-pronged murder attempts. If the ligers don’t eat me, the malfunctioning board. If they fail, the crocodiles, and if that doesn’t work, my fellow contestants.
“Thanks for letting me know.” I swing the ax toward their heads. It’s time to send a message that Zea-Mays Calico is no scapegoat, sitting duck, or sacrificial lamb.
Chapter 4
The girl ducks, but my ax hits the side of her flashlight, sending it flying across the air. It lodges in the ground, creating a beam of light. My attacker points a gun at my face. I jump back and a pellet hits my breastbone. Pain explodes across my ribcage.
Crying out, I stagger back and clutch my chest, but with another crack of her gun, the pellet misses my eye by a finger-width and hits my brow. The shock of the blow steals my breath, and for the next second, I can only reel.
At my next inhale, blades of agony race across my skull. It’s so bad I can’t feel the pain in my breastbone. I duck and want to curl
