Dad crosses the room and places a large hand on my shoulder. The warmth of his touch melts my tense muscles. After everything I’ve endured these past weeks. I’ve forgotten how much I miss his comfort. “Whatever they say and whatever images they show us, you are still our daughter. I won’t hear anyone disparage you. Even when we believed our eyes, we knew there had to be a reason for your strange behavior.”
“We brought you up better than that,” Mom murmurs.
All the tension escapes me in a long exhale, and I collapse against Dad’s shoulders. Yoseph protests about being crushed, and Dad hoists him into his arms. Flint grabs my jacket sleeves, climbs me like a monkey, and clings to my neck. When Mom joins the hug, I finally feel like we’re complete.
We stand together in a tight embrace for several heartbeats. I inhale the mingled scents of my family. It’s baking and cornsilk and home.
“What should I do?” I whisper.
Dad squeezes me extra tight. “If Prince Kevon makes you happy, you should follow your heart.”
Mom draws back and nods. “Don’t worry about us.”
My lips part. How could they say this after I told them about Queen Damascena? “But—”
“Those guards want to intimidate you into dropping out of the Princess Trials,” says Dad.
“You told me I should make a deal, like Lady Circi,” I said.
Dad shakes his head. “She was the favorite, but I don’t think the king had fallen in love with Lady Circi around the time she paired up with Queen Damascena.”
“This is more than the love between two people, Zea.” Mom squeezes my hand. “You could become the Queen of Phangloria. Think about the reforms you and Prince Kevon will make and don’t listen to idle threats.”
“She’s serious,” I mutter. “The last time we spoke, she hinted at swapping the twins’ vaccinations for poison.”
Mom shakes her head. “It makes no sense to act against the future queen. Not when you can so easily retaliate when you come into her power.”
My arms drop to my sides. I thought they would discourage me and demand that I returned with them to Rugosa, but even Dad wants me to continue. A knock on the door makes us break away from our family hug. I hand Flint back to Mom, and usher everybody to the back of the room.
I smooth down my borrowed jacket and pull back my shoulders. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Prince Kevon walks inside, his features slack.
Mom and Dad bow and curtsey, the twins offer him enthusiastic waves, but Prince Kevon returns their greetings with practiced politeness.
I place a hand on his arm. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s my father,” Prince Kevon whispers. “He’s dead.”
Chapter 17
After arranging transportation to return my family home, Garrett, Prince Kevon, and I head for the Oasis. I don’t know much about King Arias except that he was one of many monarchs that supported the unfair Echelon system and that he married Queen Damascena, even when he preferred Lady Circi.
I lace my fingers through Prince Kevon’s as we leave the fort and pause on its front steps. The sun hovers above the horizon, a ball of incandescent white that bleeds yellow and then red when the light touches the indigo sky.
In this part of Phangloria, months before the rainy season, there are no clouds, and a cool breeze swirls through the full parking lot. Black jeeps stand in neat rows, and behind them are vans. Behind those are trucks large enough to hold dozens of guardians. How many towns in the Harvester District also had early roll-calls?
We wait for his van to arrive. Prince Kevon stands on my right and on his right is Garrett, who places a supporting hand on the prince’s shoulder. My insides feel like an apron scrubbed against the washboard until its threads come loose and wrung dry.
“Are you ready?” asks Garrett.
“No,” replies Prince Kevon.
“Ready for what?” I ask.
Prince Kevon turns to me and swallows. His chest rises and falls with rapid breaths, making me worry about the artificial tissues in his heart. This has been the most intense few weeks of his life, and I can’t imagine what could be worse than facing the death of a parent.
“After the funeral, I will become the Prince Regent until my official coronation.”
I knew it was only a matter of weeks before he would become the king, but this is so sudden. “Will you rule the country?”
He closes his eyes and nods. “There will be no Phanglorian higher in rank than me.”
A black van pulls up at the steps, and the driver opens its doors. As we step into an interior about the size of Queen Damascena’s mobile dressing room, I inhale the warm scent of leather and polish and Prince Kevon’s cologne.
A sofa runs down the vehicle’s left and next to it is an armchair. Along the wall that separates the back from the driver’s cab is the shelf of leather-bound tomes I saw in the clips of Prince Kevon’s dates. On the right is a writing desk with a leather surface, and next to it, a small dining table with two chairs.
Prince Kevon guides me to the sofa and flops down. My heart clenches with concern, and I’m so glad when Garrett joins us and sits at his other side. The driver closes the door and pulls out.
“I’m so sorry about the king.” I rest my head on Prince Kevon’s shoulder. “Were you close?”
Prince Kevon rubs his chest over the black guard’s jacket. “My father never spent enough time for us to foster a relationship.”
“Uncle Arias liked to wander outside the Oasis,” Garrett adds. “He always said there was more to Phangloria than Nobles.”
“But you must have spent some time with him.” I squeeze Prince Kevon’s hand.
He turns to me with a sad smile. “Apart from portraits and official events, I barely saw my father.”
I gulp. Queen Damascena doesn’t seem the maternal type, either. I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow
