The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(104)

“She’s up there.” Emmera’s voice is breathy with excitement.

My resolve falters. I expected the Nobles to hunt me, along with maybe even the Guardians and the Artisans, but another Harvester and one from my village? I clench my teeth and correct my aim. Emmera chose her side, and I will show her as much mercy as she has shown me.

“Where?” Constance rushes to the white tree.

I glance around for signs of Ingrid, but she’s not there.

Emmera points up at the branch. “That’s her gown.”

The Noble girl who sat across from me in the personnel carrier points her rifle up in the trees. Its built-in flashlight illuminates the blue of my gown. “That’s her.”

I fill my lungs with air, point the blowpipe at Constance’s arm, and exhale a sharp breath. In the blink of an eye, Constance drops the gun and falls.

Emmera jumps back and presses a hand to her chest. “What happened?”

The other noble points her rifle at the ground. “A rattlesnake?”

“What?” Emmera staggers back.

I load another dart into the blowpipe and aim at the girl with the rifle. She falls just as easily as Constance.

“Oh no.” Emmera turns in a circle and howls.

I reload and watch the other girl from my vantage point.

Emmera aims her flashlight at the ground, looking for an imaginary rattlesnake. She screams the girls’ names, but neither of them move.

I place my lips around the blowpipe and pause. There’s no doubt why she’s here. Emmera wanted to watch me die. She deserves to lie paralyzed and vulnerable to the predators that lurk on the mountainside, but I can’t bring myself to shoot at another Harvester girl.

Footsteps approach from the other direction. I peer down to find a short-haired figure wearing thick goggles, standing under my tree’s canopy with a gun pointed at my branch.

“Can’t you recognize a decoy, you idiots?” shouts Ingrid. “She’s hiding in this tree!”





Chapter 28





A spike of adrenaline pierces my heart, and I clutch at the blowpipe. Even with nighttime goggles, Ingrid shouldn’t be able to see me in the tree. The branch is thick enough to conceal my entire body. Slowing my breath, I place my palm on the bark, ready to jump in case she’s not bluffing.

“Mistress Staub?” says Emmera’s whining voice. “Zea-Mays is over here. Look”

The back of my throat burns with hatred for the girl who is determined to have me killed.

Ingrid’s footsteps crunch on dried leaves as she passes, but it’s too soon to feel relieved. I peer down the side, watching her walk backward toward Emmera with her gun pointed at where I’m hiding.

My fingers tremble over the blowgun, and my muscles tense. Ryce once explained to us that guards use heat sensors to detect illegal distilleries and gatherings of large groups. It’s one of the reasons why Red Runner cells are so small. If Ingrid is sensing my body heat, no amount of hiding will keep me safe.

“What happened to Constance and Paris?” she asks, still keeping her gun trained on my tree.

“Rattlesnakes.” Emmera’s voice shakes.

“Did you hear them rattle?” Ingrid’s voice hardens.

Emmera doesn’t answer.

“Check their bodies for bite marks. See if they’re still alive.”

“But what if the snake is—”

“Do it!” Ingrid snaps.

Emmera whimpers but remains silent. I can’t see her from this angle, but I’m praying to Gaia, Uranus, and whoever might be listening that Emmera is too terrified to notice the poisoned darts sticking out of the fallen Nobles. Finding the poison darts means that I’m not just a frightened Harvester girl hiding in a tree. It means that I have a means of protecting myself and need to be shot before I attack.

“What’s this?” says Emmera.

My stomach plummets, and a silent groan escapes my lips.

Ingrid laughs. It’s a wicked, rattling sound that makes Emmera force a nervous giggle. I press my blowgun to my lips, but I can’t move to get a clear shot without exposing myself. Ingrid steps out of range, and gunshots fill the air. The tree trunk I’m using as cover blocks my decoy, but I see pieces of torn fabric floating down.

“Did you direct the other girls to this tree to help your friend?” asks Ingrid.

Emmera moans an incoherent and gibbering denial.

“I should fill you with bullets,” Ingrid snarls. “Because of your stupidity, Constance and Paris are probably dead. Go and fetch someone to carry these girls back to the personnel carrier.”

“Who?” says Emmera.

“Do you want a dead body to match your brain?” Ingrid roars.

Emmera shrieks, and the sound of her rushing footsteps echo across the mountainside. If I wasn’t stuck up this branch like a cat waiting out a horde of rabid dogs, I would smile. I can’t because Ingrid makes her way back to my tree.

“I’m going to enjoy killing you, Zea-Mays Popcorn,” she says in a sing-song voice that makes the hairs on the back of my neck rise. “It’ll be like hunting a Foundling, only instead of ridding Phangloria of a scourge that should be left to the wild men, I’ll get the crown.”

She shoots a bullet into my tree, and I flinch.