The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(107)

“What do you want me to do?” I step toward Berta and point the gun at her neck. “Lie down and die?”

A bullet whizzes past my ear, and I spin in the direction of the rainbow eucalyptus.

Berta charges with a flying kick that sends the gun leaping out of my hand. The hidden shooter fires again, and Berta roars with new agony.

I break into a run, zigging from left to right, using the trees as cover. Whoever is shooting has terrible aim, and I’m not giving her an easy target. Berta yells at the gunwoman to stop shooting, and I pick up my pace.

Her ragged breaths and her heavy footsteps fill my ears, and terror ripples down my back. She was right. There’s no such thing as an ally in the Princess Trials, only temporary alliances. I should have shot her when I had the chance. Now, my only hope of survival is that she makes a bigger and slower target for the inept Noble’s gun.

The mountainside descends at a sharp angle, and the canopy thickens, plunging me into darkness. I run through the pain, not knowing if this is a good or bad thing. The unseen Noble might wear the same kind of heat-sensing goggles as Ingrid. Loose soil gives way under my feet until I’m slipping on my behind down the slope.

Berta’s footsteps also skid, and a boulder of dread drops into my stomach. I tuck my arms into my chest to quicken my fall. If she catches up with me, I can’t let her strangle me with those huge hands.

Later, moonlight floods the mountainside, and my leg catches on a rock, breaking my tumble. I stagger to my feet and glance over my shoulder, where Berta’s huge figure rushes toward me. A knife glints in her raised hand, and panic spikes through my chest.

I leap away. Stones come loose underfoot, and I land hard on my tailbone.

Before I can process the pain, a rockslide pulls me down, scratching my arms raw. I move at an unstoppable, heart-wrenching pace, and Berta tumbles loudly behind.

The ground gives way, and I fall into a huge cavern of dagger-sharp stalactites as tall as eucalyptus trees. Light shines from below, and a scream tears from my lips as I fall.

Horror sharpens the pain of my every wound, and the fall seems to last forever. The bullet to the shoulder, the broken nose, bruised jaw, shattered cheekbone, and blisteringly deep scratches make my fragile nerves scream. I’m so broken that I can’t even twist around to see what’s beneath me, but if it’s anything like the monstrosities that hang from the cavern’s ceiling, it will be a quick but brutal death.

My back lands with a hard smack on water, and I sink like a millstone in the freezing liquid.

One hand breaks the water’s surface, then another, and then my head. Water spills from my lips, and I release several, hacking coughs. The cold numbs my wounds, cools my heated skin, and slows my pulse.

Bright, rectangular-shaped bulbs light this underground grotto, and the water stretches out for miles. I sip a mouthful of the liquid, and it’s rainwater-soft just like the Smoky Water brand. Why are the Nobles hoarding so much water when this could sustain all five-hundred thousand citizens of Phangloria?

I paddle toward a stone walkway. Did Firkin know he was living above such a treasure? Did Mom? I swim to the bank, aggravating the wound on my shoulder. She never mentioned it to me. This water has to stretch to the Great Wall and beyond. If it extends to beneath the Oasis, then it has to pass through the Harvester Region.

A large splash turns my body cold. This can only be Berta.

I swim as hard as I can to the water’s edge and place my hands on the stone. My numb fingers can’t get a purchase on the hard ground, so I fling my arms over the ledge and hook a leg over. Pain flares across my shoulder, making me cry out.

As I haul myself onto land Berta hooks her fingers into the back of my bodice and holds me under the water. I thrash with my arms and legs, pound at her muscular forearms, but she’s too strong.

There’s a yellow reptile called a maizard that camouflages itself in the cornfields. It sleeps during the day, and most people don’t notice the creature because it’s inert as stone. Dad says that if you go near it to investigate, the maizard rears up and poisons whoever disturbs it with sharp fangs. That’s what I need to do. Berta isn’t patient, and she has never credited me with much intelligence. If I play dead, she’ll think I’m a weak Harvester girl who couldn’t stand up to her Guardian might.

I force my arms and legs to go limp and hold my breath. This has got to work.

Berta continues holding me down, and in seconds, I realize the flaw in my plan. Her head is above water, and she can keep me under all night until she’s a thousand percent sure that I’m dead. My pulse reverberates through my skull. Pressure builds up in my lungs, and the back of my throat burns with the need for oxygen.

I reach into the quiver, pull out one of Firkin’s darts, let my hand drift up, and plunge it into her forearm. Berta flinches but maintains her immovable grip. I clench my teeth and thrash. The water probably washed away most of the poison. When my lungs are about to force me to inhale, she releases my hair, and I flail through the freezing water with limbs too cold for speed.

As I haul myself out of the water, something sharp pierces me between the ribs, and I collapse onto the hard ground.

Berta falls back with a loud splash, and the edges of my vision go dark.

I lie helpless on my side, rasping out choking breaths. My lung capacity dwindles, but I’m not sure that it’s from nearly having drowned.

Footsteps echo in my ears. A figure in black armor walks toward me. No matter how much I command my limbs to crawl away from the water, away from the approaching male, they won’t move.