The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(115)

An assistant in a burgundy vest and matching pants scurries across the semicircular floor to open a hatch in Prunella’s box. She rises from her seat and leans heavily on the assistant, who escorts her to a bench on the stage’s left.

The Phangloria insignia appears on the screen for several seconds, followed by the Minister of Justice’s face. “We all got to witness the thrilling adventure-simulation our plucky candidates undertook at the palace ball. Let’s show our appreciation for Ambassador Pascal and his Amstraadi volunteers, Queen Damascena, and Lady Circi for the wonderful performance they put on for the Princess Trials.”

Cheers and applause fill the chamber. I huff out an exasperated breath and turn to Prince Kevon. “Did anyone actually die last night?”

Prince Kevon shakes his head. “The bullets shot last night were beeswax encased in spider silk that break the skin and tear through muscle, but they are not supposed to kill.”

A knot tightens in my belly. Ingrid’s gun had killed Firkin. No one could survive such a horrific neck wound. She implied that her gun was the one Prince Kevon left behind, but what if someone had placed a real gun under her seat?

As the applause fades, the Minister of Justice says, “Next, we will hear from a young woman who witnessed the off-camera events. Darby Abraham, please step forward.”

The Noble girl who sat across the aisle from me rises from the front tier. She wears the flowing dress that’s been our uniform during the interim rounds, but her long, blue-black hair is adorned with white roses.

An assistant leads her to the box, and she sits. “I thank Gaia for the opportunity to address the learned Chamber.”

“Can you tell us in your own words what happened when the bus reversed to retrieve Miss Calico?” asks the Minister of Justice.

As Darby tells a garbled version of the events of last night, Prince Kevon wraps an arm around my shoulder and warns me not to interrupt as the consequences for disrupting the Chamber of Ministers are dire. Nodding, I clench my teeth and listen to a pile of horse manure big enough to feed Dad’s micro gardens for a year.

According to the Noble girl, I ran off the vehicle in another tantrum. She and a few others chased after me and got attacked by a mutant with a blowgun. Ingrid fired on the Foundling in self-defense, who dropped dead from fright.

The Minister of Justice offers Darby a sage nod. “It was fortunate that help arrived before the Foundling’s poison could take effect.”

An assistant rushes to the minister’s side and hands the minister a tablet. Her perfect brows rise before she announces, “Zea-Mays Calico has entered the building.”

Applause breaks out, and I exchanged a confused glance with Prince Kevon.

Someone places a hand on my shoulder. Another assistant in burgundy leans into my side and whispers that I must give evidence.

Prince Kevon nods, I rise and follow him on shaky legs down the steps, past the guards at the bottom, and onto the stage, where the applause turns to wild cheers.

I watch my brow furrow on the big screen behind the ministers. What on earth did these people think I did yesterday?

Once I’ve settled in my seat, the assistant closes the box, and the Minister of Justice leans forward with her palms resting on the throne’s wooden arms. “Miss Calico, I understand this is your first time in the Oasis?”

“Yes, Minister.” My voice projects around the room, giving me a mild surprise.

“You must only speak when addressed, and you must answer only the questions posed. Is that understood?” The condescension in her voice makes me curl my fists.

I shake my head, and a few people in the public gallery chuckle.

She frowns. “What is the matter, Miss Calico?”

“I want to tell everyone what happened last night.”

“That won’t be necessary as we already have the camera footage,” says the minister.

“But, not everything was—” A mild jolt of electricity pulses through my seat. I flinch, taking the sting as a warning to stay quiet, or they’ll dial up the voltage. I clench my teeth. “I didn’t just leave the vehicle, those girls—”

The microphone that broadcasts my voice cuts off, leaving me talking to myself.

“Then I am glad we have witnesses like you to paint the rest of the picture of last night’s events.” The Minister of Justice glances down at the tablet. “Why did the Foundling attack the other girls and not you?”

Alarm pulses through my heart, and my seat becomes too warm. I can’t tell the ministers that it was me who attacked the girls. They’ll never believe me that it was in self-defense, and I’ll end up with a metal collar around my neck.

My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and I think of something to say. “I was in another part of the mountain and heard gunshots. When I found the girls lying unconscious, I thought a rattlesnake had gotten to them, so I ran to get help.”

“What happened to Berta Ridgeback after the Foundling attacked?” she asks.

“She…” My gaze catches a couple sitting in the front of the visitor’s gallery, who lean forward.

The woman wears the white coat of a doctor with the same ash-blonde hair as Berta, and the man is clad in a guard’s uniform. He’s twice the woman’s size with Berta’s strong jaw and hard eyes.

“She chased after me, and then there was a rockslide. I hit my head and lost consciousness after that.”