A short-haired Noble woman whose petite features remind me of the tomato-seller steps forward and holds up a twelve-inch-wide computer tablet. “Perhaps Her Majesty has a different opinion.”
The queen sits in the leather chair of her mobile dressing room, and a pair of pale hands withdraw to the edge of the screen. “I commend your conviction, Kevon. Now, please sit down.”
Prince Kevon lowers himself to a wooden bench the edge of a flowerbed and folds his arms.
“The Chamber of Ministers is correct,” she says. “Pardoning Miss Solar will make you look weak and sends a precedent for future attacks.”
“Mother, have you seen the footage of Miss Solar’s brother and grandmother begging for mercy?” he asks.
“They should have begged her not to stab a prince,” she snaps.
I bite down on my lip. As much as I despise Queen Damascena and owe Vitelotte my life, it still hurts that she would try to kill an unarmed man. Even though I hate what she’s done, I wish these people would understand the desperation that drove her to such terrible violence.
Her story resonates through me—her family’s desperation for a better life in Bos, her mother’s avoidable death in childbirth, and the family’s subsequent reduction in water rations—the injustice would drive anyone to despair.
“Enough girls have died because of the mismanagement of these trials. Rafaela, Gemini Pixel, Berta Ridgeback, Minnie Werfer, Tulip Ironside, and Jaqueline Bellini. I will not add another to the list of casualties.”
My throat dies. I was present at each of those deaths. Caused one of them and helped with two. I glance at Prince Kevon, wondering what he will think if he discovers my secrets.
Queen Damascena glances at someone off-screen. I don’t need a spy camera to know she’s looking at Lady Circi. She then turns to me with what she probably thinks is a kind smile. “Zea-Mays Calico, you suffered because of the actions of your little friend. Talk sense into my son and tell him execution is the only choice.”
“His Highness is right,” I say.
Her features harden, and she leans forward, filling the screen with her face. A spasm of terror quickens my heart, and my breaths turn shallow. This is where she’ll make a cryptic comment about vaccines or killing twins.
“You support the banishment of Vitelotte Solar?” she asks.
I turn to Prince Kevon, who is too busy scowling at his mother to notice me. My stomach tightens with trepidation as I ask, “You’re going to push Vitelotte out of the Great Wall?”
“Of course not,” the queen snaps. “She’ll be ejected from her Echelon and spend the rest of her life in the Barrens.”
When Prince Kevon doesn’t protest, the roiling of my stomach calms, and I exhale a relieved breath. Mom survived the Barrens and so did Firkin, until Ingrid shot him in the chest. Sending Vitelotte through the minor wall is kinder than executing her and it sends a message to people about the consequences of attacking the Prince.
I nod. “That seems a fair punishment.”
“This is your last pardon.” Queen Damascena turns to Prince Kevon. “If anyone else tries to kill you, I will broadcast their messy deaths and those of their families. Is that understood?”
Prince Kevon scowls. “With the added security staff, there will be no more attacks.”
The screen goes blank, and the Noble holding the computer retreats toward her colleagues. All twelve of them murmur their excuses and cram themselves into the elevator. I can tell from their faces that they’re worried Prince Kevon will be different from King Arias.
As soon as the doors close, I rush out from the sofa to the wooden bench and wrap my arms around Prince Kevon’s middle. “You’re going to make a wise and merciful king.”
He sighs. “If the monarchy was wise and merciful, this assassination attempt might never have taken place.”
I jerk my head back and meet his eyes. That comment is unexpected but not unwelcome. In one of our earlier conversations, he warned me about Gemini Pixel and was unsympathetic to her plight. After I urged him to investigate her case, he agreed that Queen Damascena had placed Gemini’s father in an impossible position that should never have warranted a death sentence.
With recording devices everywhere, I don’t want to imply anything negative about the Royals or the Nobles. Instead, I ask, “What do you mean?”
Prince Kevon smooths a strand of hair off my face with his fingers. “Everything we see in the media about Harvesters suggests that they live uncomplicated, idyllic lives.”
“And the farmer’s market makes us look like we’re swimming in good food,” I mutter.
His brows rise, implying he believed that the well-fed people selling gourmet produce were from my Echelon. He smooths out his features and asks, “Do you remember I told you about the project my father started when he turned eighteen?”
I nod.
“Instead of building something in the Oasis to honor Gaia, I asked the Minister of Harvester Resources to increase the water rations.”
All the air in my lungs escapes in a shocked breath. “What?”
“Having enough water to sustain lives is more important than the hanging gardens I originally planned,” he says with a shrug. “I came to your room to share the news, but—”
I wrap my arms around Prince Kevon’s neck and press a kiss on his cheek. “That’s going to make so much of a difference to Harvesters.”
“It’s just a six-month trial.”
My smile fades, and I draw back to meet his fading smile. “Why?”
“The Ministers claimed that it would result in widespread drought. It won’t, and they’re hoping for my father to overturn this reform.” His eyes gleam with confidence. “Did you know the water rations date back before the Great Wall extended into the mountains?”
I shake my head.
“The ecological scientists who calculated the rations didn’t factor the water we obtain from the mountain stores.”
“So, there’s enough water for everyone?” I whisper.
He nods. “In a few months, I’ll be able to commission an independent study on our water supply and override anything the Chamber of
