“When you meet my daughter, tell her she was a disappointment.” He tosses me head-first into a hard surface, and my vision goes black.
The ringing in my ears pulls me out of unconsciousness, and a sharp pain lances through my skull from hitting my head. My mouth feels like a lizard’s nest, and I can’t muster a drop of saliva to ease my dry, cracked throat.
I’m lying on my right side on a smooth surface warmed by my body heat, and sweat forms on my brow. It’s hard to tell if the room is hot or if I have a fever. Even the shallowest of breaths hurt as though something or someone has struck my ribs hard enough to shatter.
With an agonized moan, I roll onto my back, only for sunlight to shine through my eyelids.
On the plus side, I’ve regained the ability to move.
“Hello?” I croak through cracked lips.
When my eyes adjust to the light, I open them to find myself staring at a ceiling made of inch-square ventilation holes that let in vertical streams of light. From their angle, I think it’s midday. The question I want to ask is how much time has passed since the funeral, and what on earth has happened to Prince Kevon?
He’s completely at the mercy of whoever controls his heart. Right now, it’s Dr. Ridgeback, who seems to be working for Queen Damascena. Grief tightens around my throat, and I trace the pad of my thumb over the crystal-encrusted band on my finger. My ring is supposed to be a tracking device, but if Prince Kevon hasn’t come looking for me, it means they’re still torturing him.
Faint sniffles reach my ears. I drag myself across the cramped space and press my ear against the bricks.
“Is anybody there?” I whisper.
The sniffling stops.
“Hello?”
Whoever is in the other room doesn’t want to communicate, so it can’t be Emmera, who wouldn’t stop talking during our imprisonment. My mind drifts to the only other person who might be able to identify the guard I poisoned.
“Forelle?” I whisper.
Still no answer.
My brows draw together. The sounds were feminine and couldn’t have been Prince Kevon. “Are you a prisoner? Tap once for yes and two for no.”
Three heavy knocks shake on my door. “Popcorn,” says a female voice. “You have a visitor.”
Placing a hand on the wall for support, I pull myself up. Lightning bolts of pain shoot across my skull and ribcage, and I sway on my feet. I prop myself in the corner and hold both palms against the walls. The light catches my ring, which continues to blink on and off.
If this visitor is the queen, I won’t let her to see me grovel.
“Come in,” I rasp.
The door swings open, and Ambassador Pascale walks into the space. He wears a green jacket with a high collar that for once, doesn’t flash with lights. However, the buttons on his jacket shine like tiny camera lenses. He holds in his small, withered hands a box the size of a thick encyclopedia.
Light catches his glasses and obscures his eyes, so I can’t see what kind of expression he makes when the corners of his lips curl into a smile. “Miss Calico, this is indeed an unfortunate situation.”
I rub my dry throat.
“Forgive me.” He reaches into his box and extracts a water bottle. “I expect you’re thirsty from recent events?”
“How long have I been here?” I rasp. “Where’s Prince Kevon?”
“He is safe.” Ambassador Pascale twists open the cap and offers me the bottle. “Dr. Ridgeback informs me that the muscle relaxant she injected into you lasts forty-eight hours. It’s why I waited until now to see you.”
Out of habit, I peer at the label, which says SMOKY MOUNTAIN ENERGY. Hope fills my chest as I take long gulps of fruit-flavored water. I’ll endure anything if he helps me escape.
“Thank you.” My gaze drops to his box.
“Are you hungry?” he asks.
At my nod, the ambassador returns my empty bottle to his box and pulls out a paper carton about the size of my hand. “I thought you might need something a little closer to home than trail mix.”
I stretch out my arm, and he drops the cool package in my palm. It’s heavier than a pair of earrings but lighter than a weapon.
Ambassador Pascale gives me an encouraging nod, but the sunlight still reflects on the lens of his glasses and hides his full expression. Inside are six perfectly round corn fritters, each an inch thick. I take a bite out of the first, and an avalanche of flavors floods my mouth.
The ambassador chuckles as though I’m a pet that has just learned a new trick, but I ignore him and continue eating the fritters. One contains pieces of chicken, another beef, and another prawn. That’s not all it contains because the pains shooting around my lungs ebb to a dull ache.
“Do you feel better?” he asks.
I’m about to nod, but the fog in my mind clears. The last time we spoke, Mom, Dad, and the twins were in the back of a vehicle headed for the Amstraad Embassy. Ambassador Pascale and I might be alone, but someone is probably watching our interaction. I can’t let them know who is keeping my family safe.
“Is…” I pause and give him a meaningful look. “Everything alright?” I ask.
His brows rise. “Please finish your corn cake. They’re your only chance of regaining your strength and facing the upcoming challenges.”
My breath catches. “What’s happening?”
“I visited Prince Kevon this morning.” He motions for me with his fingers to continue eating.
I bite into a fritter containing lumps of cheese. “How is he?”
“Heartbroken in both respects.” Ambassador Pascale dips his hand into the box and produces another bottle of water. “The synthetic heart muscles torment his body throughout the
