The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(78)

With a massive heave, I throw my weight backward. The girl with the noose staggers, loosening her choke-hold. I twist and slam my fist into her face. Her head snaps back, and I attack with a hard punch. Bone crunches beneath my knuckles. She screams and releases the noose to clutch at her face.

Air rushes through my aching throat into my lungs, bringing with it a mix of satisfaction and nausea. I’ve never hurt anyone outside a practice drill, but that girl wouldn’t have stopped. Her companions rush at me. Some grab at my arms, others rain punches down on my bent body.

“Get out of my room.” Berta returns and fills my ears with the sound of her pounding fists.

The girls release me, and I stagger out of our room to find a small blonde figure in the hallway. Her white clothes blend with the wall.

“Are you alright?” Gemini asks in a small voice.

Clutching my aching throat, I wheeze frantic breaths. My eyes feel like they’ve been doused in onion juice and won’t stop streaming, and the pounding of my head muffles the sound of the scuffling in our room. “Not really.”

“You’ve got to hide,” she whispers. “One of the girls rushed down the stairs. What if she’s calling for reinforcements?”

I glance over my shoulder into the misty room. “But Berta—”

“She can take care of herself. It’s you they want.” Gemini gives my arm a hard shake. “Go.”

With a nod, I turn toward the stairwell.

Gemini places a hand on my arm. “That’s where she went. Take the other exit.”

I rush in the opposite direction and bound down the stairs with both hands on the rail for balance. My ears fill with the echo of my footsteps and blood roaring through my veins. That was a coordinated attack of at least two Echelons working together.

My thoughts jump to Ingrid Strab, who the Council of Ministers favored for the next queen, but I’m not sure that she would have been able to get so many girls on her side.

At the bottom of the stairs, I grope around for a door, hoping that I have enough security clearance to leave the building after dark. My wristband brushes against a panel on the wall, and with a beep, the door clicks open.

Clean, fresh air fills my lungs, and the breeze dries my wet face. It’s dark outside, with lamps illuminating the gardens, but in my blurred vision, they’re just a haze of light. I stumble blindly with my arms outstretched and hurry toward the hedge, not stopping until my fingertips meet the wall of leaves.

Prince Kevon and I walked this way to reach the guest house. I hurry through the haze with one hand on the hedge for guidance, with my ears on alert for following footsteps. The hedge ends at a sharp corner, but I continue straight ahead over a stone path and feel out for the conical trees.

“Zea,” a voice whispers on the edge of my consciousness.

A jolt of alarm shoots through my heart, and I spin around. This part of the gardens aren’t illuminated, and I see only dark shapes.

“Who’s there?” I snarl.

“Psst!”

Leaves rustle overhead, the sound causing my skin to tighten. I swing my fists through the air but hit nothing. My chest constricts, negating any improvements the fresh air made to my lungs. I breathe hard, trying to slow my heart.

The watch in my boot buzzes, but self-preservation keeps my feet moving. I can’t stop in case they’re following. The whisper could have been the wind, but if I stand exposed, they’ll definitely find me.

Groping my way through the dark, I reach the wall of densely-packed trees and stumble in the direction of Garrett’s guesthouse. After several steps, an archway forms, and the scent of flowers on my over-sensitized nostrils makes me choke. I hurry through to the metal door, which is closed.

“Please,” I say to whoever’s on the other side of the camera. “I’m here to see my friend. She’s a guest of Garrett.”

There’s no response. My heart sinks. If I had stayed in my hallway with Berta and Gemini, it would be three against the group of attacking girls. Now, I’m alone and in this covered walkway where anyone is free to murder me in private. And if my attacker is someone with access to the security system, they might look up the location of my bracelet and find me.

My swollen throat convulses, and I hold onto the plant-covered wall for balance. Maybe I shouldn’t have run.

Eventually, the door clicks open. I slip through the narrow gap and slam it shut.

Now, I’ve got to reach the guesthouse without drowning.





Forelle is home, and she guides me to a sink and rinses the gas out of my eyes. The cool water is softer than anything we get in Rugosa, and it feels better than the first droplets in the rainy season. My eyes no longer feel gouged by needles, but my vision is still a blur. Next, she guides me through the house into a humid room and helps me out of my clothes.

I step into a chamber with a rough stone floor, and jets of warm water stream out at me from both sides and straight above. Water slides off the sticky residue on my skin, and I feel around for soap. My fingers find a metal dispenser, and cool, chamomile-scented liquid fills my palms.

As I work the soap into my hair and skin, my pulse calms, and the tightness around my lungs loosen. Who on earth stormed my room tonight? The Guardians and Nobles might have access to poisonous gasses, but would they go so far? I shake off the question and let the lather slide onto my face.