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

side of her face twitching from what I’m guessing is electric shock.
As two cameras point at me, I iron the horror out of my features and hold my breath.
It takes an eternity for Prunella to stumble up the stairs. The baskets of roses get in the way of the handrail, so she has no support. By the time she reaches Byron, she’s out of breath and can barely keep herself upright.
Byron wraps an arm around her back and props her up. His grin is so malicious that it makes my stomach flip. “Prunella, do you have a few words to share with the viewers at home?”
“Thank you,” she slurs, her head lolling to the side. “I thank you all for voting to postpone my execution until the end of the trials.”
Emmera leans into me and whispers, “What’s wrong with her?”
I shoot her my filthiest glower. Really? She’s going to pretend she didn’t join forces with the Nobles against me? When she continues to press against me, I jab my elbow into her side, making her yelp.
Prunella sways on her feet and tries to continue, but Byron speaks over her. “I think we’ve heard enough from you. Try not to drool on camera, dear. Removing digital saliva is murder for the editors”
The other girls break into nervous giggles. I clench my teeth. If this is a joke, this isn’t funny.
A troupe of young women wearing purple waistcoats with pencil skirts walks in from a side door.
“Just in time.” He lowers Prunella onto the landing and spreads his arms wide. “These make-up artists are here to camouflage your features for a twilight adventure in Gloria National Park.”
Gasps spread across the other candidates, and even the Amstraadi girls share nervous glances. I’m guessing that it won’t be an evening picnic.
A production assistant pulls the fallen Prunella out of the half landing, and another hands Byron a gold statuette. He balances it on the palm of his outstretched hand. It’s Gaia, sitting with her legs crossed and both hands over her pregnant belly. That’s all I can see from the bottom of the stairs.
With an exaggerated sigh, Byron says, “The girl who finds Gaia’s Treasure wins a wonderful evening with Prince Kevon. She also gets to choose an activity for her and the other candidates to enjoy.”
I can’t keep my eyes off Prunella’s twitching feet. They must have done something to her on the journey from the Chamber of Ministers. She didn’t seem quite this bad while she gave evidence.
Byron wishes us luck, and the makeup artists walk toward us. The one who makes eye contact with me looks a little familiar. Her dark-brown skin and black hair look like they belong to someone much paler. I think it’s the gray eyes, but I can’t place where I’ve seen her before.
Her face splits into a wide grin that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. “My name is Georgette, and I’ll be your makeup artist for the duration of the trials.”
“Hello,” I say, still trying to puzzle where I’ve seen her before.
She sweeps her arm toward the grand staircase. “Would you like to come with me to your chambers? Food and drink await.”
My empty stomach clenches, and I give her an eager nod. Everyone ascends the stairs with their assigned artists. At the half landing, the other pairs take a left, but Emmera’s make up artist leads her to the right. Georgette also indicates that this is where we should go. A boulder of dread drops into the pit of my stomach as I wonder if this is an ambush.
Vitelotte Solar, the other Harvester girl who reached the palace round, walks at my side and casts me several glances, but I stare straight ahead. With a sigh, her posture slumps, and she runs her fingers through her purple curls. To the cameras, it looks like I’m a haughty bronco who rejects friendly overtures. I’m not.
Last night, Berta turned against me and tried to end my life. Berta, who fought at my side when Prunella and her minions filled my room with cepa gas. Berta, who helped me fight off the hijackers. Berta, who only gatecrashed the trials to prove a point to her pushy mother.
She was rude and selfish at first, but I thought we’d become allies. I can’t afford to befriend any of the contestants because there’s no telling when they’ll stick a knife in my back.
At the top of the right staircase, Georgette leads me down a hallway and opens a door to the most spectacular bedroom about the size of my entire house. At the far end is the largest bed I’ve ever seen, with ivory covers and more pillows than I can count. Eggshell-colored drapes sweep down the headboard from a golden pelmet on the wall, making it look fit for a princess. Short, mirrored cabinets stand at both sides of the bed, each supporting golden table lamps.
As Georgette guides me through the bedroom, my gaze sweeps past the cushioned stool at the foot of the bed to the room’s right side, where there’s a writing desk next to a balcony that overlooks the palace grounds. I’m not sure why, but they’ve even supplied a velvet sofa and two armchairs that match the decor.
We step into a walk-in closet that rivals Queen Damascena’s mobile dressing room. It’s already stocked with garments, including the Harvester uniform I brought to the trials. I recognize a stain on the apron that has never washed out, no matter what I try.
“You can come out, now,” says Georgette.
A door opens, and I catch a glimpse of the bathroom before seeing Forelle. She wears the same purple waistcoat and pencil skirt with her red hair tied into a neat bun.
Warmth fills my heart, and tears fill my eyes at the sight of one person I can trust. “What are you doing here?”
She wraps her arms around my shoulders. Her tight embrace cuts off my air.
“Kevon sent Master Thymel and his sisters to escort me to the