As the guards close the door, the girls opposite break into excited whispers. Maybe the viewers got sick of the lack of activities and petitioned for the return of Prunella, who at least organized dance classes and sessions at the gymnasium.
Prunella walks up the stairs and takes her place beside Byron. The guards who escorted her stand at the bottom of the stairs, and camerawomen point their lenses at the front door and toward specific girls such as Emmera, Constance, Ingrid, and me.
“Welcome back to the Princess Trials!” Prunella sweeps her arm to the side and curtseys. “I would like to thank the viewers at home for all your support during these difficult times—”
“And of course, the real purpose of today’s show, the arrival of Prince Kevon,” Byron drawls.
Prunella’s shoulders sag, but she steps forward and beams. “We have an exciting challenge for our remaining hopefuls. One that will broaden their horizons and take them outside the Oasis.”
My insides tighten, and this morning’s coffee rises from my stomach to the back of my throat. They must be taking us into the desert.
“Careful, Pru,” says Byron. “You’re going to spoil the surprise for everyone and upstage the prince!”
Prunella falls silent, and a pair of palace servants wearing white ruffles beneath their purple livery hurry to open the double doors and let in the morning breeze.
Prince Kevon stands on the doorstep with Garrett at his side. There’s no sign of Queen Damascena or Lady Circi, only a wall of guards in purple armor.
Sunlight shines through his dark hair, making its ends glow indigo. His skin looks vibrant against the pale green of his lightweight jacket, and excitement ripples up my spine and settles in my heart. He looks so much stronger than the convalescing prince I kissed on the hospital roof garden.
The epaulets on his jacket emphasize his broad shoulders, and the flap pockets over his muscular chest highlight his athletic frame. All the girls standing opposite let out wistful sighs.
On legs that won’t stop trembling, I dip into a low curtsey along with the other girls. This is the first time we’ve seen each other since that kiss. Remembering the feel of his lips on mine and the closeness we shared makes my head spin. It takes an effort to rise, and I have to splay my arms out for balance.
I’ve never had such an intense reaction to anyone, not even to Ryce Wintergreen, and I long to speak to Prince Kevon alone.
He greets each girl individually, starting on the Amstraad side with Sabre, the red-haired girl, before crossing to Ingrid, who laughs at something that probably wasn’t even a joke. The closer he progresses, the drier my throat becomes, and the more my limbs tremble. By the time Prince Kevon reaches me, I won’t be able to form words.
This movement across the lines continues, and Prince Kevon reaches the Amstraadi girl standing next to me called Tizona. She’s the ebony-skinned girl with bleached hair. Sweat pools on my palms and I dab them on the fabric of my jumpsuit. After Emmera, he’s going to talk to me.
I expect Prince Kevon to exchange a few words with Emmera, but he murmurs something to her that makes her burst into tears. My throat dries, and I strain my ears to listen. Prince Kevon wraps his arms around Emmera and pulls her to his chest.
Tizona leans into my side. “Hey, Popcorn,” she whispers. “It looks like you have some competition.”
I turn to her and smile. If she thinks I’m going to throw a tantrum because Prince Kevon is being nice to a girl unfairly imprisoned, she clearly needs to stop watching the Lifestyle Channel’s fake footage.
Prince Kevon releases Emmera and walks across to me. Affection shines in his eyes, making my heart flip. If he kisses me in front of the cameras, all that animosity Ingrid built up will have gone to waste.
“Zea.” He offers me his hand and presses a kiss on my knuckles. “It’s wonderful to see you.
I bob into a curtsey. “You’re looking well.”
“Thanks to you.” The intensity of his gaze makes me wonder if he’s thanking me for something other than saving his life. Heat rises to my cheeks. I also can’t tell if he’s talking about the kiss or about giving him another chance.
“Your Highness,” Prunella gallops down the stairs. “Welcome back to the Princess Trials!”
Prince Kevon releases my hand and draws back, while Garrett steps forward and stands between Prunella and his cousin. I place a palm on my chest and glance at the prince who stares at her with such fierce loathing that my throat tightens.
As she reaches the bottom of the stairs, the guards in black step forward, making her freeze. Her eyes widen with alarm, and her mouth falls open. “Wait, I didn’t mean to—”
“Ladies and Gentlemen.” Byron descends the stairs with a satisfied grin. “No matter how much you campaign for the humane treatment of Prunella, she just can’t help overstepping.”
I place a hand on Prince Kevon’s arm. “What’s happening?”
He shakes his head as the guards jostle Prunella out through a side door. “Among other complaints, the viewers demanded that Miss Broadleaf rejoin the Princess Trials as a presenter rather than a prisoner.”
“I don’t understand why she’s not in prison.”
Prince Kevon’s lips tighten. “As the aggrieved party, Rafaela’s parents allowed Prunella to finish the Trials before her execution. Despite my protests, Montana agreed to this as long as she maintained a distance of fifty feet from me.”
I nod. For a corrupt Noble like Montana, allowing the wife he discarded to perform for the audience would be far easier than making his employees broadcast the truth. I still don’t know how much involvement Prunella really had in the murder of Rafaela and in the attempts
