“Do we need to spell everything out to you?” asks Lady Circi.
“Yes,” I say from between clenched teeth.
“Tell Kevon you’ve changed your mind.” The queen strides toward me across the room, bringing with her the cloying scent of mandragon blossoms.
Resisting the urge to step back, I lick my dry lips. “But he won’t believe—”
“Convince him.” She hisses through bared teeth.
I gulp. “Alright, but there’s only so much I can do if he doesn’t come with us on excursions, and we eat alone in our rooms.”
Queen Damascena’s eyes harden. She’s trying to work out if I’ve been sarcastic, but a snort from Lady Circi seems to assure her that I’m merely stating a fact. I want to twist my fingers around her curls and yank the blonde out of her hair. What kind of monarch needs to go to such roundabout, underhanded methods to influence the lives of others?
The queen relaxes her features and places her hands on her hips. “From tomorrow, you will all share meals with Kevon, and tonight, you and he will dine in front of the cameras.”
“But Vitelotte—”
“Has kindly allowed the other girls from her village to share her date with the prince.”
She never mentioned that to Emmera or me on the journey to the farmer’s market. This means that their next stop after threatening me will be Vitelotte’s room. I hope she stays calm and doesn’t say something to make Queen Damascena lash out.
I exhale my frustration in an outward breath. There’s no point in asking if I can leave the Princess Trials, then. “So, you want me to make up with him, raise his hopes, and then suggest he marries some other girl?”
“I wouldn’t put it so bluntly,” she says with a smirk.
I stare into her cold eyes, not quite believing she’s serious. “Why?”
Her lips tighten. “Like most men, Kevon doesn’t think with his brain.” She lets her gaze linger down my body. “Using what you’ve learned from watching mating cattle, I’m sure you can whisper into his ear and guide him to make the right decisions.”
Bile rises to the back of my throat. Not about the animals, but she’s talking about manipulating her own son. “And if I can’t—”
“You will do as I say if you don’t want anything to happen to those charming twins.” Queen Damascena steps out into the hallway. “Circi, when does the Immunology Committee administer vaccinations?”
“In Rugosa?” Lady Circi steps out of the door. “The end of the month.”
Her words hit like a flying kick. Yoseph. Flint. The annual vaccinations protect us from a strain of the influenza virus that mutates every year. Without it, old people die and young children perish. There are a number of ways they could hurt the twins: withdrawing the vaccination, swapping the vaccine for water, or replacing it with a poison that will mimic a natural death.
Lady Circi closes the door, leaving me gasping for air. The imaginary noose around my neck is so tight that the fibers of the rope chafe against my skin—that’s how much it hurts. I can no longer afford to interpret Queen Damascena’s words—I must do exactly as she says until I can find a way to hide Mom, Dad, and the twins.
I sit alone for hours, staring at the wall and trying to work out a way to help my family. If I told Prince Kevon, he would help, but that help might come too late. What about Colonel Mouse, the man from the Amstraad Republic who tried to save me from the fake hijacking?
Shaking my head, I toss that thought aside. The Amstraadi might turn it into a game and get them killed just to place my reaction on their show.
My only way forward is to hope that Prince Kevon becomes the king before Queen Damascena carries out her threat. Then he will outrank his mother and overrule any of her orders.
Later, Forelle and Georgette step into the room and ask about my day. I give them snippets about the fake Harvesters I met in the market while they ready me for our group date. I barely notice the outfit, a silver, off-the-shoulder dress that reminds me of the blue ballgown.
They arrange my hair in a braided updo and weave strands in a mix of Oasis sophistication and Harvester charm.
I step out into the hallway, where Emmera and Vitelotte await. Emmera wears a form-fitting dress with a split up the side and has dyed her flaxen hair auburn. I guess she has worked out that Prince Kevon prefers girls with dark hair.
Vitelotte wears a fuchsia dress with a deep V that shows a little cleavage. The garment’s short sleeves and the way the fabric skims her figure reminds me of something Lady Circi would wear but without the pants.
As Emmera walks in front, I lean into Vitelotte and whisper, “Are you alright about us joining your date?”
She raises a shoulder. “I really don’t mind.”
“Thank you.” Emmera turns around and flashes the other girl a grin. “You’re so generous to share your time with His Highness.”
If I wasn’t so preoccupied with the threat hanging over the twins, I would bristle at the implication that I should share Prince Kevon with her. My gaze flicks to Cassiope, who grins. I can’t even smile back.
“Tonight’s going to be fun,” I murmur, thinking the opposite.
A limousine takes us to a Japanese restaurant called Peko Peko. We learned about Japan in Modern History. It was an archipelago of hundreds of islands but got swallowed by the Pacific Ocean. All that’s left of the country are millions of people living on crowded mountaintops.
Carolina says it’s a lie because Phangloria doesn’t have aircraft, and its navy wouldn’t waste resources traveling halfway across the world. According to her, they teach us about Japan to make us feel grateful for our lives in Phangloria.
I shake my head. Carolina says a lot of things, but she offers no guarantees for the safety of her Runners.
Peko
