The Princess Games: A young adult dystopian romance (The Princess Trials Book 2)

plate toward Georgette and try not to think of a multitude of man-eating beasts, creatures with deadly venom, and that’s not even including the Noble girls who are baying for my blood.
So far, none of the official Trials have gotten a girl killed, but I think that’s about to change.
About thirty minutes later, a bell chimes on my wrist cuff, and Emmera, Vitelotte, and I emerge from our rooms. They both wear the same camouflage, with leaf-patterned hoods covering their hair. Our jumpsuits fit as tight as ElastoSculpt with zippers down the front for ventilation and thick belts that cinch our waists.
I’m not sure what the black belt hooks are for, but I’m sure we’ll find out once Byron Blake gives us instructions on the trial.
Emmera scowls at me, and Vitelotte averts her eyes. We walk alongside our makeup artists in silence through the palace and find Byron waiting on the half landing and the rest of the camouflaged girls at the foot of the stairs.
From where I’m descending, it’s hard to tell the nobles, but the Amstraadi girls all stand to attention with straight postures and their arms behind their backs.
As we settle around the others, Byron welcomes us back with an apology that Prunella has returned to the Chamber of Ministers to assist them with further inquiries. He winks at the camera, and I wonder if she’s going to be tortured for the public’s amusement.
“There are six Amstraadi, five Nobles, three Guardians, two Artisans, and three Harvesters,” he says, holding up the golden statuette of Gaia. “It’s entirely your decision if you would like to form teams, but whoever returns with Gaia’s treasure will be the winner.”
I glance around at the girls. Ingrid, the Noble with pinched features, beckons the three Guardians closer. Sabre from Amstraad divides her group into two, while the Artisan pair stand alone. I drop my gaze to the marble floor, not daring to ask if there’s a penalty for non-participation.
“The cameras embedded into the seams of your jumpsuits will track your movements,” he continues. “Scouts will retrieve you as soon as somebody finds the treasure.”
“Which means we’ll be out there forever if we don’t find it,” mutters Vitelotte.
I suppress a laugh. The worst part about her comment is that it’s probably true.
Byron sends the Amstraadi first, then the combined team of Nobles and Guardians. The two Artisans, who don’t make eye contact with us, huddle together. One of them is the pink-haired dancer who nodded from the armored personnel carrier and implied that it was safe for me to return to the vehicle.
A pair of camerawomen beckon us to follow and guides us through a side exit. Nobody speaks as we walk through the narrow hallways. Technically, this is a hidden passageway and I need to memorize this intel to pass onto the Red Runners, but I no longer care.
When I accepted this mission, I thought I would enter the palace, sneak about at night, and find a hidden entrance. Then I’d get eliminated, sent home, and inform the Red Runners of a secret route to revolution. I never thought I’d end up with guards outside our Rugosa home, waiting for Queen Damascena’s order to shoot.
A door opens, and we step into a stairwell that leads to a basement, where a large jeep with blackened windows awaits. Two slimline backpacks sit in the front and three at the back. After settling in, we examine their contents. One bag contains a map and handheld computer, another contains Gaia’s bible, the third contains cutting equipment such as penknives, a pocket chainsaw, and a small ax. There’s even a gaslighter with a nifty belt hook. I hope these items are for cutting firewood.
“After last night, I should be in charge of the weapons.” I glare at Emmera. “Any objections?”
Her camouflaged features twist. “So you can bury that ax into my back?”
Vitelotte places a hand on Emmera’s shoulders. “It’s alright,” she says in even tones. “Zea-Mays wouldn’t hurt a fellow Harvester.”
“How would you know?” Emmera whispers.
I clutch the bag of weapons to my chest and wait for the purple-haired girl to reply.
“How could you forget that Zea-Mays got whipped twice for saving the virtue of Harvester girls?” says Vitelotte.
One of the Artisan girls in front twists around to gape. I don’t meet her gaze, and I don’t blame her for resenting me. Over the past few days, Prunella Broadleaf and her media team have worked hard to make me look like I used underhanded methods to steal Prince Kevon. They were so convincing that even Berta believed them.
I twist the ring Carolina slipped on my finger and wonder if that’s why I haven’t heard from her or Ryce, then shake off the thought.
“Alright.” Emmera bows her head and exhales a long breath. “But I’m taking the tablet computer.”
Without a word, Vitelotte picks up Gaia’s bible and reads.
My gaze drops down to the pack of knives, and I catalog them in my mind for future reference. If we meet killer birds like the one who attacked Gemini, we’re going to need more than just one ax.
As the hours pass, our jeep traverses increasingly bumpy terrain and over a steep gradient. It looks like we’re going to the mountains, which is technically the Barrens and beyond the wall that encloses the Echelons. The reverberations of my heart rattle my bones, and the only thing stopping me from a full-blown panic attack is the knowledge that Ingrid and her allies left before us and are probably fighting among themselves over who should claim the golden statuette.
Eventually, we stop and the production assistants allow us to step out of the jeep. I open the door, and the scent of pine fills my nostrils. We’re parked a few feet from the edge of a mountain cliff that drops down to more rocky ground and then a forest that stretches out for miles. The setting sun is a ball of incandescent yellow that spreads an orange haze across the