“Zea?” asks Emmera.
“Just... cramps,” I say from between clenched teeth.
She offers me a sip of water, but I refuse. Liquid seeps out of the earrings, and my vision blurs. I hope to Gaia or whoever is listening that this is a last-minute antidote.
As soon as the needles retreat into the pearls, I sit up, reach underneath my disheveled braids, and rub my ears. Clear liquid gathers on my fingertips, but it evaporates and leaves no smell or taste.
I can no longer hear anything from the other room, so I focus my attention on Emmera’s speculations on what she thinks happened to Vitelotte.
Several minutes later, Lady Circi returns with General Ridgeback. My heart rate trebles and my breaths become shallow. Emmera whimpers and cowers in the corner of her cell.
General Ridgeback points his gun at me, and a sharp pain pierces my chest. My mouth opens to let out a gasp, but I fall unconscious before my head hits the floor.
Bright lights shine in my face, and beeping sounds fill my ears. I awaken secured to a plastic chair. Thick straps wind through the loops of my canvas jumpsuit, and bands of plastic also secure my ankles and wrists. I can’t see anything beyond the lights, and I can’t tell if I’m alone in the room or surrounded by interrogators.
My gaze drops down to my exposed forearm, where an intravenous tube delivers clear fluid from a bag suspended on a metal pole. This has to be the truth serum.
I try to raise my arm, to break free of my bonds, but my limbs feel like lead. I should be panicked because I didn’t drink an antidote and there’s no telling if the injection worked, but I can barely feel my pulse. Slow breaths ease in and out of my lungs, and it feels like I’ve just woken in the middle of the night.
Someone shines an even brighter light into my pupils and announces that I’m ready for questioning.
After some general questions, General Ridgeback asks about Berta, and I answer with a variation of what I said to the Chamber of Ministers. Berta chased after me, I ran, and we both tumbled down the mountainside.
“Where did you fall?” asks General Ridgeback.
“Into a sewer,” I say for the benefit of Lady Circi. When the queen hears this recording, she’ll think her secret underground river is safe.
“How did Berta die?” The General’s voice is hoarse.
My heart clenches. At this rate, he’ll never get the truth about what happened to his daughter. “I heard that she drowned.”
General Ridgeback asks several more questions, such as if I saw Berta in the sewer, why Berta’s blood had traces of the Foundling’s poison, but I say that I don’t know.
“So, it really was an accident.” Lady Circi sounds apologetic. It’s the most human thing she’s said since she asked Prince Kevon if he loved me.
The General’s heavy footsteps recede across the room and a lighter set approach. I stare ahead into the light, letting my vision blur. A male voice asks if I know Ryce Wintergreen, and I tell them about having witnessed the death of his father at the hands of a guard. Anyone who has checked my record is aware of our connection because of the witness statement I recorded years ago. Ryce was one of the last people to visit me before I left Rugosa.
“Did Ryce Wintergreen send you to the Princess Trials?” the male voice asks.
“No.”
“Why did you volunteer for the Trials?” asks Lady Circi.
“I wanted a few days off work,” I say in a monotone.
Someone in the back of the room snorts. A door opens, and a set of footsteps hurries out. I’m sure the person left to laugh. If I didn’t feel so numb right now, I might have smiled that my lie was incriminating enough to sound true.
“Have you communicated with Ryce Wintergreen during your time in the Oasis?” asks Lady Circi.
Unease stirs in the back of my mind. This is a tricky question because I’ve spoken to him at least twice. If they catch me in a lie, they’ll just wait for the antidote to wear off before resuming the interrogation, but if I tell the truth, it will mean my execution.
“At the farmer’s market,” I murmur.
“What did he want to know?” she asks.
“If Vitelotte was falling in love with Prince Kevon,” I reply.
I should feel guilty for giving Ryce an even bigger motive for wanting Prince Kevon dead, but the serum running through my veins suppresses my emotions. Or it could be an effect of the drug in Mouse’s earring.
“Did you know anything about a plot to murder members of the royal family?” asks the male voice.
“No.” It’s the first time I’ve told the truth in minutes.
The next few questions are about the murder I witnessed all those years ago, and they ask me if Ryce ever confided in me about wanting revenge against Phangloria for not finding his father’s killer. I tell them the truth. Ryce barely spoke to me over the following years because I watched his father die and was unable to provide the Guardians with a meaningful description of the murderer.
Eventually, one of the voices says that the serum is wearing off. The needle withdraws from my arm, and someone drags me through the hallways and into the back of a van. As the vehicle jostles and rolls me across its metallic floor, I send Mouse a silent word of thanks. He probably doesn’t know how much he saved me with the antidote and listening device, but I resolve to be nicer the next time I see him.
By the time the van’s doors swing open and a pair of female palace guards pull me to get out, I’m still drowsy and unable to walk. My vision blurs as they walke me through an underground parking lot, through a maze of passageways I recognize as the palace and into my room.
Light from the setting sun streams
