Byron positions himself at the foot of the stairs. Garrett claps Prince Kevon on the back and guides him to Byron, who apologizes to the viewers for Prunella’s misbehavior.
“On the subject of apologies, I wish to offer two more,” says Prince Kevon.
Bryon leans back with an exaggerated frown. “Surely not, after everything you’ve suffered.”
“Imagine then, the anguish of discovering the unjust imprisonment of two innocent young ladies.” Prince Kevon turns to us. “Emmera Hull and Zea-Mays Calico, Phangloria’s justice system was based on Gaia’s wisdom, yet it failed when we punished you for being witnesses.”
I bite down on my lip, not wanting to smile in case Queen Damascena or the Minister of Justice blames me for Prince Kevon’s veiled attack.
“It is corrupt, unacceptable, and we will do better,” he says. “When I come into my power, I will dedicate my reign to making Phangloria a place where everyone can enjoy Gaia’s gifts, regardless of their circumstances of birth.”
Someone behind us gasps, and I imagine it’s Ingrid or one of the other Nobles. The unfair Echelon system benefits them the most, as does a justice system where nobody cares about a person’s murder unless they come from a position of power.
I dip into a curtsey and hope this footage will reach OasisVision. People need to know that our future monarch is serious about making Phangloria a fairer place.
Byron claps his hands and nods to the production assistants to also applaud the prince’s speech. Emmera and I clap first, then a smattering of applause comes from the girls behind.
“Thank you, Your Highness for such rousing words,” Byron says. “I’m sure we’ve kept these young ladies in suspense for long enough.”
A production assistant gestures for Emmera and me to retreat to our places. When we’re both standing in line with the other girls, and the applause dies down.
Prince Kevon clears his throat. “I spent some time guarding the Great Wall during my apprenticeship, which gave me an understanding of how Phangloria expanded over the centuries. People travel miles across the desert to reach us, and Phangloria welcomes them all.”
“Will the young ladies patrol the wall?” Byron asks with a nervous laugh.
“Not quite.” The prince tilts his head to the side and smiles. “Each of you will spend a day shadowing one of the dedicated professionals who work in the Barrens. Those whose performance falls in line with the principles of Gabriel Phan will progress to the next round.”
I glance at the scowling Nobles. It looks like Prince Kevon wants to weed out those anyone who balks at spending time with Foundlings. When he explains that his future queen must commit herself to all levels of society, I imagine Queen Damascena spitting with rage.
He, Garrett, and Byron walk past us and out of the double doors and stand at the palace steps and pose for photos. Instead of reporters, two of the production assistants stand behind cameras on tripods. They arrange us around the trio and position me at the back with Emmera and the Amstraadi girls.
“Calico,” says Tizona. “Have you ever been to the Barrens?”
I shake my head. “Have you?”
She huffs a laugh. “Our republic is exactly like that wasteland, only without the heat.”
My brows draw together. Her words sound familiar. They’re related to what Ambassador Pascale told me in the garden party about not being able to grow the seeds in the food they imported from Phangloria.
Before I can ask what she meant, the production assistants usher us over the red carpet toward two vehicles: a large stagecoach and a smaller van that resembles Queen Damascena’s mobile dressing room. Prince Kevon boards the smaller one with Garret, while the rest of us board the stagecoach.
The interior contains only one row of seats on the left, and bunks on the right. The seats are widely spaced with some of them reclining completely flat. I pass Ingrid, who sits alone in the front and glares at me with a sour scowl. Behind her, the other Nobles sit in pairs with the Artisan girl behind them.
I stop at the next seat, where Emmera sits alone.
“May I join you?” I ask.
She glances up at me with sad eyes and nods.
I slide into the aisle seat and lean forward to catch her eye. “Are you alright?”
She shakes her head. “They won’t let me go home.”
“Why not?”
“It’s in the contract we signed. We can’t leave unless we’re eliminated.”
My lips form a thin line. We didn’t even sign a contract. The production assistants told us to press our thumbprints on a computer tablet. I want to assure her that Prince Kevon won’t let anything terrible happen to us, but even he can’t have eyes and people everywhere.
Byron stands at the front and claps his hands for our attention. “Ladies, the journey to the Great Wall will take several hours, so make yourselves comfortable. One of you will breakfast with Prince Kevon, and the rest will eat on the journey. After that, His Highness will invite you to share a cup of tea.”
“Who gets to eat with Prince Kevon?” asks Constance from the front.
Byron turns a dazzling smile to Ingrid, who shoots out of her seat. Groans fill the coach’s interior, and some of them even come from the Amstraadi in the back seats.
I reach beneath the armrest, ease open the refrigerator door, and pull out two bottles. “Drink?”
“Thanks.” Emmera takes the proffered bottle and drinks.
A screen comes down from the ceiling displaying Prince Kevon’s departure from the hospital. Even though it says that the footage is live, it looks like they’re an hour behind real time.
The coach’s doors hiss shut, and I read the bottle’s label. This one says CALM. I open it with a crack, take a sip, and let its cool contents wash away the bitterness of the coffee.
As we travel down the driveway, the windows darken until they’re completely black. Droplets of water rain down from the palace’s fountains, giving me a
