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

the ring of fabric. As a relieved breath slips from my lungs, I place the glass back onto the bar. My heartbeat slows, and I feel the vehicle’s faint rumble against the soles of my shoes.
She doesn’t care about Berta’s life or her grieving parents. This supposed murder interrogation is all about the place where she died.
The cavern looked like a lake to me, but Prince Kevon said it was a river that stretched beyond the border of Phangloria. Now Queen Damascena wants me to believe it's just a sewer.
My gaze skims bottles of Smoky Mountain water piled within a bucket, but I ignore my parched throat. If I’m going to escape this conversation alive, I’d better play along.
“Your Majesty?” The terror I inject into my voice is no pretense. “I passed out the moment I swam out of the sewer, and I didn't even get a chance to rescue her.”
Either my answer satisfies her, or she’s biding her time until she finds a replacement for me in Prince Kevon’s affections. Who knows, but I certainly won’t flaunt my knowledge of the hidden water source, the dying king, or the underground passage that leads to the palace.
As the girl pulls the dress up the queen’s body, guides the older woman’s hands through the armholes, and fastens it at the back with deft stitches, the queen combs her fingers through her blonde mane.
Her eyes narrow. “My son will not be associated with a murderer.”
“I didn’t kill—”
“Do not interrupt your queen,” she roars.
I rear back, my heart slamming against my ribs. At this stage, even a ‘yes, Your Majesty’ might prompt her into making me finish the glass of potentially compromised champagne.
Queen Damascena strides to a tall mirror and turns her body to the side. The lines of her dress are immaculate, without the usual bulges created by clasps and zippers.
A few paces behind her, the girl waits with her hands clasped. Her shallow breaths belie her nervousness, and I wonder what the queen would do to her if she didn’t like the dress. A moment later, the queen nods and lowers herself into the armchair.
“Understand this,” she says with a sneer. “I will not taint my son’s good standing by associating him with a murderer, even if she’s the wench who warms his bed while he decides upon a suitable bride.”
Prickly heat rises to my face, and I wrap my arms around my middle. My gaze darts to Lady Circi, who tilts her head to the side and raises a questioning brow. I didn’t… I’ve never… He wouldn’t. My lips remain shut because there’s no telling how this crazy woman will react if I denied her accusation.
The girl pulls out a trunk I haven’t noticed until now and wheels it toward the queen. She flips its top open and pulls out a bundle of leather that unrolls into an apron containing more makeup brushes than I can count.
Nobody speaks as the girl paints the queen’s lips a salmon pink, but after two coats, Queen Damascena stares into the trunk’s open lid, which I assume contains a mirror.
“Kevon is a philanderer, just like his father.” She turns her face from side to side, admiring her cruel beauty. “He dallied with Rafaela van Eyck and moved onto you the moment she died. In the end, he will do his duty.”
“Please, let me go home,” I whisper. “I’ll never return to the Oasis.”
She laughs and turns to the seamstress, whose shrill giggle sounds too hysterical to contain any mirth. Lady Circi shakes her head and smiles. I know what they’re thinking. If I disappeared to Rugosa, Prince Kevon would come after me. If they kill me now, Prince Kevon would retaliate when he became the king. Now that he’s about to come into his power, they’re wary of upsetting him.
Annoyance ripples through my insides, but I force my features to remain neutral. “What do you want me to do?”
“Help my son choose a Noble bride,” she says. “Do this and I will allow your family to live.”
Frustration wells in my chest, building in intensity like a pressure cooker about to explode. How dare this woman threaten the lives of innocent people? How dare she interfere with the choices of her son?
I want to leap off this stool and fly at her with my fists and feet and teeth, to tear out those pretty blonde locks, pluck those pretty lashes, and expose the ugliness behind the regal veneer. Judging by the way she handled herself last night, I doubt that I could take her in a fight. She and Lady Circi worked together like a pair of seasoned warriors, even though the hijacking was a fake.
My heart aches and hot tears gather in my eyes. It’s bad enough that those in power keep us starved and dehydrated. Now they have to hold our families hostage?
Breathing hard, I press the heel of my hand into my sternum and try to keep the tremble out of my voice. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
Queen Damascena nods. “Then there’s no need to worry about the fate of your mother, father, and those delightful twins.”
The vehicle stops, and the seamstress pulls off her apron and replaces the lid.
“Is that all, Your Majesty?” I say from between clenched teeth.
She stands and smoothes down the imaginary creases in her impeccable dress. “If you mention this conversation to my son or even hint at the threat hanging over your family, I’ll devise the cruelest means for them to die. Is that understood?”
If the goddess Gaia existed and granted me the ability to control lightning, I would strike her down on the spot. “Yes.”
Queen Damascena walks to the door and makes a lazy gesture with her hand. “Do something about the girl’s appearance,” she says to her maid. “I won’t have her looking blotchy in front of the cameras and prompting my son to ask what’s wrong.”
She steps out of the vehicle, and the door slams shut, leaving me alone with Lady Circi and my