The Princess Trials: A young adult dystopian romance

can fly. An ornithologist at the Oasis might be able to classify her exact species.
As I sprinkle the berries on the ground, she opens her curved beak and squawks her thanks.
“How are the chicks?” I murmur.
From deep within the taller plants, three young birds emerge from behind another barrel cactus. They stand nearly as tall as their mother, but with crested head feathers and beaks as sharp as blades. From the looks of them, they’re probably more suited to chunks of raw meat than to berries.
I sit in the shade with the birds for what feels like hours and take a few fruits for myself. They’re warmer than I’d like but an appreciated source of liquid.
“Zea?” asks an unfamiliar voice.
Forelle, the red-haired girl from the tomato field, stands over me. I shield my eyes with my hand and squint. “How did you get here so quickly?”
She grins. “The guards woke me with a shot. After I gave my statement, Krim brought me here on his mule.” Forelle kneels at my side and makes kissing sounds at Sharqi. “He said I could find you here.”
“How’s that guard doing?” I ask.
She rubs her brow. “He’s still unconscious. I hope he gets a headache when he wakes.”
I snort. “Trust me, he’ll have the worst hangover.”
“Tell me about it,” she says with a laugh.
My smile fades as I remember stabbing her with my poisoned dart. “Are you alright?”
“I’m not complaining. You only gave me a tiny prick of poison.” Her hands shoot up. “I came to thank you for coming to my aid. That guard wouldn’t have stopped.”
“Yeah.” My head dips, and old memories push themselves to the forefront of my mind. I’m up a tree, watching another Harvester girl struggle in the grip of a similar guard, except I’m too paralyzed with fear to pull out my blowpipe.
Forelle places a hand on my arm. “You risked execution for me.”
Sharqi gobbles the first berry, splattering purple juice over her beak. I shake my head and smile because the Red Runners wouldn’t let me get hurt. If one of their members got arrested for protecting a Harvester, it would incite a riot that would wipe out every guard that dared to tie a noose around my neck.
“It would never have come to that,” I murmur.
She sucks in a breath, sounding like she wants to disagree. Maybe Forelle is like Mom and fears the might of the Guardians, but Ryce told me the revolution would happen soon. He has seen the cache of weapons, and there are enough guns to storm the Oasis and free every Harvester from a life of servitude.
Forelle licks her lips. “If you hadn’t saved me today, I wouldn’t have qualified for the Princess Trials.”
I turn away from Sharqi and examine my new companion. She’s about my height, five-eight, with smiling gray eyes set within a heart-shaped face and rosy cheeks and lips that don’t need coloring. I can see why a girl like her could compete with the higher Echelons for the chance to marry Prince Kevon.
One evening at the assembly hall, a documentary played on the OasisVision screen of Pre-Raphaelite paintings from the ancient society that was once Italy. Ignoring the beige dress, matching bonnet, and tomato-stained apron, Forelle could have modeled for one of those artists.
She continues staring at me, and my mind snaps to the present. I mutter, “It’s not safe around those Nobles.”
Her face breaks out into a grin. “But it would be nice to get out of Rugosa and stay in the palace, swim in a pool of water, and eat at all those banquets. Besides, the pageant is televised, and nothing untoward will happen on the big screen.”
My lips twitch, and I can’t help but return her smile. Forelle’s optimism reminds me of Mom. “And what about the handsome prince?”
“It’s not like I have a chance.” She raises a shoulder. “There’ll be opportunities at the Oasis we can’t find here.”
“Zea?” asks a familiar male voice from behind.
My heart turns a somersault in my chest, and I tilt my head up. Standing among the cacti is Ryce Wintergreen, Captain of the Red Runners, and the object of my deepest desire. His pale, blue eyes burn with determination, and his features are grave. I’ve never seen Ryce so much as quirk the corners of his lips. One day, I’ll be the one who makes Ryce smile.
“I heard you took out a border guard.” Ryce’s gaze is assessing, as though he’s looking at me for the first time.
His voice touches all corners of my heart, and heat rises to my cheeks.
“She was amazing,” says Forelle, her voice full of enthusiastic cheer.
“I’m beginning to appreciate Zea’s talents,” Ryce says, not sparing her the slightest glance. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that turns my insides into mush. “Will you excuse us for a moment, please? Zea and I have urgent business.”

Chapter 2
Forelle stands and disappears behind a cactus, leaving me kneeling in the dirt and staring into the eyes of Ryce Wintergreen.
He looms above me, and sunlight shines through his chocolate-brown hair, turning its ends as red as the burnt sienna mom uses to make paints. For a moment, it looks like a halo, and the little moisture in my throat evaporates.
Ryce offers me his hand. “Good work, soldier.”
My heart soars, and I let him pull me to my feet. Ryce’s sweet, earthy scent fills my nostrils, reminding me of sugar beet. We stand so close that his breath fans across my face.
Ryce and I share a terrible history, a shared tragedy that has blighted my soul. Seven years ago, I witnessed the murder of Ryce’s father. Afterward, Dad brought me over to the Wintergreen house to tell him and Carolina what I saw.
Ryce had been eleven, angry, and full of accusations. If I had been up the tree, why hadn’t I shot at the guard with my poisoned darts? Dad and Carolina had stepped between us, but Ryce had been right. I had let