Guilt lances through my stomach, and I stop eating. Carolina once described sleep deprivation and brainwashing, the mind-altering techniques Nobles used for interrogation and control.
“I need to see him.”
The ambassador rocks forward on his feet. “To tell him what he already knows, Miss Calico? You joined the Princess Trials to find a means for the Red Runners to enter the palace and slaughter the royal family.”
My mouth clamps shut, and I lower my gaze to the stone floor. I thought the ambassador wanted me to become the Queen of Phangloria so the Amstraad Republic wouldn’t be so dependent on us for food.
“Why are you here?” I ask.
“To say goodbye,” he replies.
My head snaps up. “Is this a joke? Where’s Mouse?”
Ambassador Pascale places a full bottle on the floor and steps backward. “It’s unfortunate for you and your loved ones that Prince Kevon discovered the truth. You would have made a terrific queen.”
The door opens, and the Ambassador walks out.
What about Mom, Dad, and the twins? I can’t ask out loud, but he’s implying that our deal is off. I lurch after him, knocking the water bottle aside. “Wait—”
“Sorry, Miss Calico,” he says from the hallway. “Please understand that I need to do what’s best for the Amstraad Republic.”
“What does that mean?” I rasp as the door closes and its locking mechanism whirrs. The cuff on my wrist vibrates and drops to the floor, but I can’t focus on that right now.
“Confess to whatever they want,” says the ambassador from the hallway. “And pray to your Gaia that Queen Damascena will be merciful enough to put a bullet through your head.”
“Ambassador Pascale?” My voice shakes.
When he doesn’t answer, I turn my gaze to the fritters and replay our conversation in my mind. Prince Kevon knows the truth but Queen Damascena is embellishing it with unrelated facts. The ambassador says he has given up on me but still came with a last meal and a message of goodbye.
I inhale my first deep breath since waking and feel no more aches. No wonder he urged me to continue eating. The food contained a painkiller. Maybe he wants me to save myself and meet him at the embassy to collect my family. After eating the cheese fritter, I bite into one that contains soybeans, a Harvester’s main form of protein.
Ignoring the nervousness roiling through my stomach, I finish eating the fritters and bite the final one, which contains some sort of fish. I place the carton on the floor, pick up the full water bottle, and twist its lid.
The strong scent of menthol fills my nostrils. I flinch and replace its lid. The label says, ‘DRINK ME.’
My gaze freezes on the words until their edges blur. I should trust the ambassador but he specifically came to say he could no longer help me. Anything that smells so strongly must be masking a drug even more powerful than the painkiller. The only thing I can trust is that he wants an exciting finale for his Princess Trials show.
Another locking mechanism whirrs, and I rush toward the door. “Ambassador Pascale?”
“He’s not coming,” rasps a female voice from the next cell.
“Who’s that?”
“Who do you think?” she snaps.
“Prunella?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer.
“What’s happening?”
“We’re in the Deimos Stadium.” Her voice is so thick with rage and bitterness that it’s hard to understand her. “The Nobles will make a spectacle of us before we die.”
“A…” I gulp. “What?”
Prunella huffs an impatient breath, and I can imagine her rolling her eyes at my ignorance. “This is what they do to criminals of interest. The first and second tier-Nobles sit in a viewing theater and enjoy watching their enemies get torn apart by wild creatures and sometimes wild men.”
“Like gladiators?”
Prunella bursts into tears. “Except that there’s no chance of getting out alive.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and exhale a long, weary breath. Prunella has just confirmed my suspicions about the ambassador. He wants me to last as long as possible in the stadium for his people’s viewing pleasure. Nobody’s coming to save me, and the ambassador probably dumped my family on the roadside.
Scenarios whizz through my mind. The most prominent is of me standing in the middle of an amphitheater, my only protection a net and a short sword. To tie up the storylines, I’ll probably have to face the cassowary that attacked Gemini and the two ligers I escaped in the Gloria National Park. Worse. It will be wild men riding ligers.
“I never hated you,” says Prunella. “At least not at first.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I pinch the bridge of my nose and try to tune out what will probably be a rant about my shortcomings. I’m no longer weak with pain or hunger or thirst, my heart thrums a steady beat, and whatever was in the fritters has invigorated my body. If we’re in a stadium as Prunella says, I might have enough energy to scale a wall and escape.
Prunella sniffles. “The queen told me to do whatever was necessary to guarantee Prince Kevon a Noble bride who wasn’t Rafaela. That’s why I organized all those murder attempts, including yours and Gemini’s. She said she would make me a member of the royal court.”
I shake my head. Now I feel an idiot for casting doubt on Prunella’s guilt. “Why didn’t you tell the Chamber of Ministers you were working for Queen Damascena?”
“She promised to send me to the stadium if I did.”
“And she sent you there anyway,” I snap.
Prunella sobs, and I drop my gaze to my bare feet. I’m a fine one to talk, seeing as I killed Berta and burned those Guardian girls’ bodies. Now, I’ve just added to her misery.
A door creaks open, and Prunella screams. Her shouts and pleas for mercy form an incoherent mess that mingles with the sound of scuffling and dragging.
I clutch the water bottle to my chest and press my ear against the door.
Someone
