The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(80)
That wasn’t an answer. I stare down into my lap, hoping Forelle knows what she’s doing. My conscience itches to tell her that this lavish lifestyle won’t be available to her after the revolution, but doing so might jeopardize our plans before they even have a chance to get started.
I shake off these thoughts. If I don’t find a way to participate in the Princess Trials without getting myself killed, Forelle’s broken heart will be the least of my worries.
Chapter 22
Forelle’s words ring in my ears as she leads me upstairs to a room with a bed whose white headboard stretches up the wall, across the ceiling and down to where the wall meets the window. The view outside is of a lawn lit by floodlights bright enough to make me wince.
She picks up a remote, and a white screen drops down to the floor. “Did you know you can see and smell any kind of atmosphere in these vision rooms?”
I think about the room I share with Berta and Gemini in the barracks and shake my head. “How did you learn so much about Oasis technology when you’ve only been here a few days?”
“Practice.” Forelle clicks the remote, and images of a rainforest appear on every wall. “Prince Kevon stayed here on my first night. This is his favorite scene.”
I spin around to find that the headboard is also a screen projecting tall trees that stretch up to a starlit sky. The scent of leaves fills my nostrils, and my skin prickles with the beginnings of humidity. “Does it change the climate, too?”
“It’s not as powerful as the botanical gardens.” Forelle clicks a button, and the screen switches to a vista of a snow-covered forest. The temperature drops, and a sharp scent of pine and ozone fills the air.
My shoulders droop, and every blow from tonight’s attack weighs on my muscles. As much as I want to skip through the different atmospheres, I need to sleep. “Is Rugosa one of the options?”
Her mouth drops open, and she stares at me as though I’ve just told her that I prefer the drudgery of home to the luxury of the Oasis.
I exhale a weary breath and rub the back of my neck. It’s hard to explain, but at home, I was an anonymous Harvester girl who didn’t stand out from the others. Not even Ryce, the person I want most in this world, acknowledged me. Until now, I had no idea that being unremarkable could be such a comfort.
“Mom and Dad were on Netface today,” I say. “If you can show me Rugosa, I might miss them less.”
Her eyes soften, and she clicks some buttons on her remote. “Sure.”
In the blink of an eye, a cornfield fills the screens, and elation fills my heart. The temperature warms, and I smell the familiar scent of ripened corn and sun-warmed earth. I turn in a circle and stop at the headboard.
The old baobab that got struck by lightning stands behind the bed. It’s the same old baobab that marks the entrance to the underground headquarters of the Red Runners. My throat convulses, and I snatch my gaze away.
“Do you want to see the tomato fields instead?” Forelle asks.
“No,” I say with a trembling laugh. “This will be fine.”
As soon as she leaves, I take the watch out of my boot and skim the messages. They’re all along the same vein. What’s happening? Did I reach the palace? Did I find the secret entrances? Anxiety tightens my chest until my lungs feel about the size of my fists.
A final message pops up on the screen:
WHY DID YOU RUN FROM ME?
All the soothing effects of the hot chocolate vanish, leaving me with an ache that seizes my throat. That whisper in the wind had been Ryce. I’m not sure how long he’s been in the Oasis, but if he saw that naked footage and wanted to check up on me, my actions tonight might make him think I’ve changed my mind about the revolution.
A tight knot forms in my stomach, and I press a command to reply, to call back, but the communication only seems to be one-way. That, or Ryce has given up on me already.
YOU MUST COMPLETE THIS MISSION.
“I’m trying,” I murmur. But my efforts are not enough.
I thought I could enter the Princess Trials and stay out of sight while the cameras focussed on the girls who actually want Prince Kevon. I thought I’d be in the palace by now, enjoying sumptuous meals during the day and sneaking through the hallways at night to perform my mission.
Even though Ryce and Carolina know about the interim round and they know I haven’t yet progressed to the palace round, they still expect results.
Tears trickle down my cheeks, and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. Nobody said the revolution would ever be easy, and I won’t succumb to self-pity.
I stare at the watch, waiting for the next message, but it remains silent. With a sigh, I ease myself into bed and close my eyes.
In the morning, a delivery person in burgundy brings a covered tray, and we eat scrambled eggs with smoked salmon, and avocado toast in the shaded area outside the pool’s thatched hut.
Leaves overhead rustle in the mint-scented breeze, and the morning sun shines down on a pair of black swans swimming circles in the wild pool.
Our table and chairs are wooden, but Forelle presses a button on the table, and one of the slats tilts on its side and lengthens into a vision screen. Forelle sets it to the Lifestyle Channel, where Montana addresses the camera in a black one-piece suit and stands next to Prunella Broadleaf, whose floor-length gown is also black.