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

saying this for the cameras, of course. What she really means is that I’m going to join Berta in death pretty soon, and she’s only sorry that I didn’t die the moment I discovered the dangerous secret.
My mind races for a clever response. Something that implies I’ve safeguarded my knowledge of the underground river and if I die, everyone will know of her secret water source, but the thought of her sending minions to my friends and family fills my veins with ice and traps the words in the back of my throat.
Queen Damascena releases me, and I can finally exhale. Prince Kevon stands at my side, his brows drawn. I guess he doesn’t know why his mother has recalled me to the trials—I didn’t tell him that I struck Berta with a paralyzing dart and left her to drown.
“Thank you.” My voice projects across the auditorium, and I turn to the audience rather than face the blonde viper at my side. “But I don’t deserve the honor.”
The queen shakes her head and beams. “Berta would want you to continue, and I insist on keeping you with us for a little longer.”
Anxiety ripples across the lining of my empty stomach, and I glance at Prince Kevon, who nods. Maybe I’m safer here, where he’s close. If I left the Oasis, the queen would likely have me assassinated before I even reached Rugosa.
Montana wishes us all good luck on this exciting, new round of the Princess Trials and gestures for us to leave through a door to the right of the ministers’ seats. The applause continues as Queen Damascena leads us out with her arm looped through mine. Prince Kevon walks at my side, and to anyone watching, it looks like they’ve already decided on who will become the next Queen of Phangloria.
I glance over my shoulder at the procession of girls following us, their glares sharp enough to slice twelve daggers through my back. Far behind them in the audience, General Ridgeback remains standing.
The door opens into a wide hallway lit by spotlights that run down the ceiling and around the corner. Dozens of assistants stand at the walls, clad in the same kinds of purple uniforms I’ve seen on palace staff and on those who wait tables in Oasis restaurants. They all bow low for the queen, who doesn’t acknowledge their presence. The door behind us shuts, muffling the auditorium’s applause.
Queen Damascena releases my arm and smooths down the cowl of her silk dress.
I turn to her and inject as much sincerity as I can into my voice. “Your Majesty, I don’t know—”
“There will be plenty of time to pour out your heart during afternoon tea,” she says.
“Pardon?” My voice trails off as I remember something I saw in the previous Princess Trials’ palace round. The former queen and ladies-in-waiting would invite a girl to the queen’s parlor for mentorship meetings.
I shudder at the thought of being alone with Queen Damascena because I don’t think she’ll reprimand me on my posture or my ability to get along with the other girls.
At the end of the hallway, we turn a corner into another corridor where four guards wearing black stand at a set of heavy doors. As soon as we approach, they open it into a sun-lit courtyard containing three black vehicles: Prince Kevon’s electric car, a large bus, and a van that resembles an oversized limousine. Camerawomen stand around the courtyard, all dressed in black and shooting footage.
Byron Blake, Prunella Broadleaf’s co-host, stands among them with his arms folded across his chest. He’s a tall man with brown hair that sweeps off his forehead, sunken cheekbones, and a ridiculously deep dimple in his chin.
The smile playing on his lips tells me that he’ll have a larger role in this round of the Princess Trials now that Prunella has confessed to murdering Rafaela. I still can’t believe that Prunella threw Prince Kevon’s friend out of the window and electrocuted her with an Amstraad ear cuff. The way Byron bounces on the balls of his feet and grins indicates he’s not sorry for Prunella’s plight.
Prince Kevon leans into my side. “Are you alright?”
I raise my brows in a what-do-you-think gesture, making him grimace.
Queen Damascena is the first to step out into the sun. She walks toward the van, where a chauffeur opens its side door. Before stepping inside, she turns to us with a dazzling smile and waves. “I look forward to seeing you all soon.”
Byron Blake sweeps his arm toward the bus. “I’ll make the formal announcements in the palace, but for now, congratulations.”
Prince Kevon and I step out of the Chamber of Ministers building and walk across the courtyard to the bus. The doors hiss open, and Lady Circi steps out, still clad in the A-line combat tunic shaped by multiple holsters that each contain weapons.
She holds out her palm at Prince Kevon. “Ladies only.”
He places a hand on the small of my back and moves toward his car, when Byron Blake appears at his side with a wide grin of artificially white teeth.
“Your Highness,” he says with a chuckle. “As the only gentlemen in this procession of beauties, it looks like you and I will ride together. Perhaps you’ll tell the viewers at home about last night’s thrilling trial.”
I raise my shoulders and offer him a tight smile. With the camerawomen returned and Queen Damascena in a separate vehicle, what could possibly happen on the journey to the palace?
With a nod, Prince Kevon walks around the car with Byron Blake. Someone pushes past me to board the bus, a figure with short, indigo-black hair closely-related enough to Prince Kevon to have security clearance to use royal weapons. Ingrid Strab, the girl who promised Berta Ridgeback the position of lady-at-arms in exchange for my murder.
Constance Spryte boards next, with her blue-black ringlets bouncing as she moves. I clench my teeth, wishing I had hit the pair of murderous Nobles with two poisoned darts, which would have stopped their hearts.
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