“It’s this way.” Mouse beckons for me to turn left.
I follow him around the hillside and resist the urge to shake my head. “Why go to such lengths for a fair trade of your technology?”
“Would you believe that we have petitioned successive monarchs to allow us to grow our own food?”
“And they all said no?” I jog to keep up with his long strides.
Mouse slows his pace, allowing me to walk at his side. “Their agreements always came with unreasonable requests, such as training their Guardians in our techniques.”
“So that Phangloria wouldn’t depend on the Amstraad Republic for technology.” I chew on my lip, now understanding why the Nobles were so reluctant to execute Leonidas Pixel.
We fall silent and continue around the hill. Thin clouds cover the moon and diffuse its light across a wide expanse. Devotees clad in their white robes incline their heads as we pass, and the sounds of voices reach my ears. I spot the funeral guests gathering around the stairs and hurry toward the crowd.
A guest standing among devotees on the stairs breaks away from the group and races toward me. I pause, but it’s only Garrett.
“Where were you?” He asks.
I hook my thumb toward the temple. “Where’s Kevon?”
“He and a few others went inside to look for you.” Garrett grabs my hand and leads me around the crowd, reminding me of when he pulled me toward the marquee at the start of the Trials. “Kevon asked me to search the perimeter in case you got lost.”
Garrett taps on his watch to inform Prince Kevon of my location, and I glance over my shoulder for signs of Mouse, but he disappears into a group of devotees. My brows furrow. I understand the Amstraad Republic’s desperation to grow crops like we do in Phangloria, but did they have to be so cruel?
I scratch my head. Maybe their experiences with other potential queens ended in betrayal, and they figured they could make me a fun spectacle in case I reneged on our agreement.
We reach the foot of the stairs, where Forelle stands with Garrett’s family. As soon as our eyes meet, she rushes toward me. I brace myself for a tight hug, but she grabs my arms.
“You’ve got to see this.” Forelle turns me toward a group of people on the stone stairs.
Queen Damascena stands with Byron Blake. Two camerawomen stand on the steps below and on the hillside, while a quartet of production assistants illuminate their subjects with boxes of soft light. Byron introduces himself and promises the viewers a thrilling update on the Princess Trials.
Somehow in the chaos, Queen Damascena has changed into a white gown with a plunging neckline dotted with silver sequins. Wispy feathers line its shoulders and long sleeves. A swathe of feathers fall in layers to form a full skirt with a long train, making me wonder if she's celebrating her husband’s demise.
After exchanging a few pleasantries, the queen faces the camera. “It’s heartbreaking.” She injects her voice with sadness. “My beloved husband and king must now remain on the earthly plane. In his honor, I will do my utmost to serve Phangloria as its regent.”
My stomach drops, and I exchange a stricken glance with Forelle. A lot can happen between now and the next full moon. More trials, more threats, and more attempts to engineer my death.
Forelle glances over our shoulder and nudges my arm. “Garrett says she’s officially in control of Phangloria and can delay the king’s funeral for as long as she wishes.”
“Or cremate his body so nobody finds it.” I sweep my gaze up the stairs, where Queen Damascena dazzles Byron with a radiant smile.
Was she planning to sabotage the funeral all along, or has she just taken advantage of the Amstraadi’s diversion? I gulp. In the last round of the Trials, they staged a fake attack on the palace, followed by a fake hijacking that I thought had killed the queen and Prince Kevon.
I shake off my paranoid thoughts. Almost every Amstraadi I’ve met has dropped hints about their agricultural requirements. This has to be what they want from us.
“Your Majesty.” Byron’s voice slithers through my musings. “Who is your favorite to win the Princess Trials?” asks Byron. “With only six girls remaining, you must have gotten a chance to know the contestants.”
The queen pauses, and everyone around us stops talking to take in her words. Blood roars through my ears. If she remains the regent, what would that mean for my deal with the Amstraad Republic to save my family?
I clutch at my chest, trying to think of a way to save myself, save my family, save Phangloria from falling under the rule of this mad queen, but my mind goes blank.
I’m a pawn in this game, just like my parents, and I’m completely dependent on the protection of Prince Kevon.
Queen Damascena places her hands on her hips. “Unfortunately, the selection of a suitable bride has been mismanaged from the start. Prunella Broadleaf allowed a host of terrible candidates, including a young woman who tried to assassinate my son.”
Byron gives her a sage nod. “I have tried my utmost, Your Majesty, but it’s nearly impossible to counter Prunella’s sabotage.”
My lips form a tight line. Now that Gemini Pixel is dead, I guess Prunella is the scapegoat. I hold my breath, waiting for the queen to speak. She’ll either announce Constance Spryte the winner or name a random Noble of her choice.
“And that is why I would like to reopen the Princess Trials,” she says. “Every girl found medically fit to compete but didn’t get a chance for an audition will
