“How could you?” My voice breaks.
She scowls. “Do you know why I did nothing when those Nobles were hunting you?”
“You said you were scared.” The words feel false on my lips. Vitelotte is fearless.
“Harvesters don’t belong with Nobles, let alone with Royals,” she said. “Prince Kevon sold you a dream, but at the end of the Princess Trials, he’ll choose one of his own. You needed to experience these Nobles first-hand.”
Bitterness coats my tongue. If she had bothered to ask about the naked footage, she might have gotten the chance to understand my friendship with Prince Kevon. I exhale a weary breath and tilt my head toward the ceiling.
“Why did you change your mind?” I ask.
“Prunella Broadleaf’s trial was telling. Maybe she kept trying to kill you because you were a threat.”
“Prince Kevon is the kindest, most noble person I’ve ever met. Because of you, Phangloria might lose a sympathetic king.”
“Zea,” whispers Emmera. “What did that man give you?”
I open the box and find a pair of iridescent pearl earrings with clip-on fastenings. Hope seeps through my insides, and I almost forget about my thirst. Mouse might act like a creep, but he’s always offering me help.
I place the earrings on and turn to Emmera. “How do I look?”
She pushes her water bottle through my bars. “Like you just spent ten days without food or water.”
“Thanks.” I open her bottle, take enough to wet my throat, and hand it back.
Over the next several minutes, Emmera shares her trail mix and water with me. My Red Runner instincts tell me that Vitelotte is my true ally. When Emmera wanted to ditch me, it was Vitelotte who let me ride on the back of her glider. Vitelotte also rescued me from those murderous Guardian girls when she could have walked away. I know all this, yet when I think about Prince Kevon bleeding to the brink of death, I can’t bear to look at her.
“I’m sorry for always trying to get you into trouble,” says Emmera.
I stare at the other Harvester girl. Her blue-gray eyes shine with unshed tears, and she forces a trembling smile through dry, cracked lips. Emmera’s hair hangs limp down both sides of her face, and the roots are darkened with grease.
“Why are you saying this?” I ask.
“We’re going to die,” she murmurs. “I hope Prince Kevon survives. He seemed like a nice man and didn’t deserve to be stabbed. I can understand why you spent so much time with him. I should have been more of a friend instead of allying myself with the Nobles.”
“At least you know better for next time,” I mutter.
It’s not much of a comfort because nobody in this society believes in reincarnation. Maybe it was an option in the cradle of civilization when humans built the pyramids, but there were thirty billion souls alive before the first of the bombs struck. Nobody knows how many million remained after the slew of natural disasters that decimated the world populations.
When we die, our bodies will burn to ash, and the ashes placed in recyclable containers. Most families bury those containers in the earth and plant a seed. Then the plant can feed on the earth and ashes, and the soul will become one with nature. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s better than coming back as a Harvester.
The footsteps return. I sit up, thinking it might be Mouse with more food and cryptic comments, but General Ridgeback walks in, followed by Lady Circi.
My mouth drops open. What’s Berta’s father doing here? “What’s happening?” I rush to the bars. “Did Prince Kevon survive?”
The general’s gaze locks with mine, and I stiffen under his scrutiny. He points a gun at Vitelotte and pulls the trigger. Emmera screams, and a shocked breath whistles between my teeth. Vitelotte drops her trail mix as she falls to the concrete floor.
They both ignore me and stand side-by-side in front of Vitelotte’s cage. When they’re sure she’s unconscious, Lady Circi places her palm on a bar, and the front of the cage springs open.
General Ridgeback steps in, wraps a meaty hand around Vitelotte’s ankle, and drags her out of the room. As they’re leaving, Lady Circi turns around and fixes me with a glare. The look in her eyes says that I’m going to be next.
Fear plummets through my stomach like a lead weight. I wrap my arms around my middle and resist the overwhelming urge to join Emmera’s whimpers.
But one of my earrings starts to hum.
Chapter 10
I clap a hand over my ear and then disguise the movement by scratching my head. The humming sound in my ears smooths out, and I hear footsteps moving around a hard surface. My throat dries, and I lower myself to the floor, wondering if Mouse is going to send me a secret message.
“They executed her,” Emmera says between sobs.
“There’s no blood.” I turn to the crying girl.
She lies facing me on her side with her arms wrapped around her knees, and her long, auburn hair covers her face. “What did you say?”
“If that gun contained real bullets, she would have bled.” I point at the white space outside our cells. “Some of it would have spilled across the floor as they drag her.”
Emmera raises her head and stares at me as if I’ve sprouted lizard scales. “How can you keep a cool head at a time like this?”
A wave of nausea rushes through my insides. I don’t know if it’s the water, the trail mix, or the impending torture session I’ve just imagined they’re subjecting to Vitelotte. I clutch my middle and exhale a long breath.
“The Princess Trials has been one disaster after another. If I didn’t stay calm, I’d already be dead.”
She lowers her gaze, and her cheeks turn red. Maybe she’s thinking about directing armed Nobles to
