The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(43)
I nod and clench my teeth. The Rugosa bathhouse pool always reeks of chlorine and a chemical that turns blue if anyone urinates in the water. When I was little, I used to emerge from the pool with dry skin, brittle hair, and stinging red eyes, thinking it was the price for being able to swim. Now I understand why Carolina warned us against using it.
Trying to keep the bite out of my voice, I say, “It must be nice to bathe in pure water.”
“I’m sure you’ll get an opportunity soon,” he says.
Someone shrieks at the far end of the pool. A laughing couple emerges from the water. The girl throws her arms around the boy, who tosses her into the air, making her squeal. She lands with a big splash and makes a clumsy doggy paddle toward the edge.
“Are you staying here with Garrett?” I ask.
He nods. “For the duration of the interim round.”
I want to ask what he thinks of the recent changes to the Princess Trials, but the girl climbs up a ladder. She is wearing a two-piece swimsuit with a bandeau top that clings to her curves. It looks more like underwear than anything fit for wearing in public. My gaze flicks to the clear sky, and I wonder what the sun is doing to the girl’s skin.
The water darkens her hair to a deep auburn, and as she approaches, I can make out her features.
“Forelle?” I glance at the muscular young man climbing out of the pool, who gives me a jaunty wave. “Garrett.”
“Don’t worry.” Prince Kevon pats my shoulder. “Garrett might be flirtatious, but he won’t take advantage of your friend.”
She rushes at me with her wet body, wraps her arms around my back, and squeezes tight enough to force the air out of my lungs. I hug back, remembering that this was the girl who hauled me away from the guards arresting Krim. Thanks to Forelle’s intervention, I didn’t get myself locked up, and now Prince Kevon knows about our supervisor’s unfair arrest.
Her arms loosen, and I suck in a huge breath. “What are you doing here?”
“Kevon pulled me out of the trials.” She beams and glances at Garrett, who smiles back at her with soft eyes. “I’m staying at this guesthouse for the next few days.”
“Or weeks,” adds Garrett.
I raise my brows. “Kevon?”
Garrett shakes his hair, splattering us all with droplets of water. “There are no titles among friends.”
“I thought you were his bodyguard,” I glance at Prince Kevon.
He grins. “And cousin.”
“The king and my father are brothers,” says Garrett.
“Making you a prince, too?” I ask.
Garrett shakes his head and wraps an arm around Forelle, who turns to him and beams. “Only those in the direct line of succession use their titles. I’m not even a Royal.”
I nod. Garrett is a Noble. I could have guessed that from the color of his hair. But what does he want with Forelle? I thought Nobles only consorted with their own kind.
She grabs my wrist and pulls me toward the pool. “You have to see this guest house!” My wrist cuff squeals, and Forelle snatches her am away. “What’s that?”
“We’ll have to cut the reunion short, ladies.” Prince Kevon places a hand on the small of my back. “Zea is wanted back at the barracks.”
What should be a pleasant stroll in lush, green surroundings is now a mad dash to the barracks. I don’t realize how far we walked until we need to hurry back to the Princess Trials.
As we round a hedge, the tall white building comes into sight. At the back door stands one of the production assistants flanked by a pair of camerawomen.
My stomach flips. “What’s this?”
He huffs a laugh. “An opportunity for a high-drama scene where she reprimands you for being late, I expect. It happens all the time on Amstraad shows.”
Now my insides cringe as I wonder what kind of penalty I will suffer. Prunella Broadleaf already dislikes me for making her look a fool during the auditions. None of the other girls are in the gardens, and it seems like I’m the last to return.
The production assistant rushes forward, but the camerawomen remain at the doors. She’s the one from the stage doors who didn’t give me the doctored water. “Your Highness?”
“It’s my fault that Miss Calico is late,” he says in cool, even tones. “Please ensure that she gets breakfast.”
Inclining her head, she dips into a low curtsey.
Prince Kevon takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. My heart makes a panicked jolt and a rapid breath whizzes through my nostrils.
I don’t want Ryce to see me looking so cozy with the enemy. “Enjoy the rest of your day.”
He excuses himself and strolls back toward the guesthouse, and a tight fist of worry squeezes my empty stomach. When we reported the guard who beat Mr. Wintergreen to death, the authorities didn’t care to investigate. If anything happens to Forelle…
The assistant places an arm over my shoulders, rushes us to the cameras, and fires questions about my time with the prince. I stutter out something about walking through the grounds because the people at home can’t know that Forelle is staying in a house with a man.
Harvesters don’t talk about premarital relations, and I don’t believe Prince Kevon for a moment that Garrett won’t take advantage of my friend. Border guards take what they want from Harvester girls by force, maybe Nobles use charm. I’ve never heard of an instance of a guard making a Harvester girl his wife, let alone someone from a higher Echelon.