The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(79)

Anyone willing to throw a girl to her death is capable of anything. Tomorrow, when I return to the trials, I will find the girl with a swollen nose and inform Lady Circi that I’ve discovered Rafaela’s murderer.

Water pummels my tense muscles from all directions, and I sigh. If Berta hadn’t been in the room with me, I would surely have died tonight.

A knock on the door jolts me out of my thoughts. “Zea,” says Forelle. “The hot chocolate is ready. Come out whenever you want.”

“Thanks.”

The warm water has cleared my vision, and I glance around to find myself in the shower cubicle of a bathroom larger than the kitchen at home. At one end of the room is a glass wall, where a large tub overlooks a garden of palm trees illuminated by floor lights.

I step out into a slate floor and reach for one of the fluffy dressing gowns hanging on the wall. There’s a huge mirror and double sink unit opposite, and I peer at my reflection.

My dark, wet hair clings to my face, and my complexion is drawn. Livid blood vessels mar the whites of my eyes, which are barely visible through all the swelling.

I swallow hard. Whoever created that disgusting naked video made everyone think I had tried to entrap Prince Kevon.

The downstairs of the guesthouse consists of shades of white illuminated by an array of floor and table lamps. Forelle sits on a soft, ivory sofa, dressed in a deep green one-piece that accentuates her curves. On the low table in front of her are a pair of grilled cheese sandwiches and two cups of dark, hot chocolate topped with swirls of cream.

She raises her head and smiles. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” I rasp.

I sink into the armchair next to hers, and she offers me a cup. The hot chocolate is warm and sweet, with a tinge of bitterness that Forelle explains comes from the drink’s high concentration of cacao. I savor my drink, enjoying how the creamy liquid soothes my throat, and recount the events of the night.

At the end of my story, Forelle says, “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

“If it wasn’t for me tripping you over in the square, Garrett would never have noticed you.”

I frown. “What are you talking about?”

“He thought you would be perfect for Prince Kevon. Garrett didn’t need to tell me you’ve been spending time with the prince. It’s all over the Lifestyle Channel.”

Forelle has watched the Princess Trials at every spare moment. While the cameras focus on my conflicts with Prunella Broadleaf and the other girls, it’s only been Ingrid, Rafaela, and me who have had a chance to spend time with Prince Kevon.

“No matter how they make you look on screen, anyone can see you’re one of his favorites.”

I shake my head. It’s too late to confide in my friend about my involvement with the Red Runners. Whatever security is protecting this guesthouse is probably listening to our every word. I only hope Ryce doesn’t think I’m falling for the prince.

She scoots forward and grabs my arm. “You and Rafaela have the best chance.”

“She’s dead.”

Forelle gasps. “No!”

“Didn’t you know?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “There was footage of her at the dinner table last night. I didn’t notice her in any of the activities today. Is that why Garrett left early this morning?”

“Probably.” I bite my lip, wondering why they would keep Rafaela’s death quiet and if Prunella would release the footage of her accusing me of the girl’s murder. “Can I sleep on your sofa tonight?”

“You should report the attack and not leave this place until the ball.”

“But the vote—”

“Prince Kevon really wants you, and he won’t let a stupid public vote get in the way of his happiness.”

My brows draw together. I might be a spy, but I don’t want Prince Kevon to think we have a future. It’s going to be hard enough when the revolution comes.

Prince Kevon will lose his throne and have to live like everybody else. Even if the Red Runners want to throw him in jail, I will explain that the prince deserves mercy for being willing to help Gemini.

Forelle fixes me with an excited stare. She probably expects me to get excited or pepper her with questions.

“What did Prince Kevon say about me?” I ask.

“He told Garrett you were the most promising of the girls.”

I shake my head. “He doesn’t even know me.”

“Prince Kevon got to travel down with each coach of girls, except for the Nobles, who he already knows. He was watching us all this time.”

My throat tightens, and I burst into a fit of coughs.

Forelle rushes to her feet to a metal panel on the wall and pushes something on the display. A glass of water drops down from an opening, and she hurries back and presses it into my hands.

I gulp down the liquid, but it does nothing to ease my tension. Until last night, I thought Nobles and Royals were unfeeling brutes who only cared about themselves. Prince Kevon is different, and I don’t want to add to his troubles by breaking his heart.

She leans across the sofa and grabs my hand. “Won’t that be wonderful? We’ll be related, and we’ll get to move our families to the Oasis.”

“Has Garrett discussed a future with you?” I ask to change the subject.

Forelle’s cheeks turn pink. “If Prince Kevon can sift through thirty girls to find a suitable wife, it should be easy for us to decide if this is really what we want.”