The Princess Trials (The Princess Trials #1)(90)

“Thank you,” I say. “For the dress and the compliment.”

The look Prince Kevon gives me is so expectant that I have to skip back a few seconds to remember if he asked me a question. My bodice tightens around my torso, and my breaths become shallow. It’s hard to maintain eye contact when I can’t stop cringing that he got to hear my heartfelt words about being the woman who leads Phanglora at Ryce’s side.

I turn my gaze toward an archway of climbing roses lit by tiny, flower-shaped lights. “What’s over there?”

“A fountain.” He gestures at the arches. “Would you like to see it?”

All the tension leaves me in a long exhale, and I walk alongside Prince Kevon toward the other roses.

We continue in silence toward a fountain with over three-dozen jets of water shooting out into the air, forming a bouquet shape. Lights at the base of the waterspout color the water yellow, yet it turns purple and then electric-blue when curves down to the stone bowl.

Cold droplets of water spray across the air, providing a pleasant cooling effect.

“I spoke to my mother about pardoning Gemini Pixel,” he murmurs.

“What did she say?”

“At first, she refused to overturn the sentence, even though it was her who incited Leonidas Pixel to break the law.”

My breath catches. “But you convinced the queen?”

“Only when I refused to participate in the Princess Trials,” he replies. “Apparently, the Lifestyle Channel’s ratings are at an all-time high. If I dropped out, it would undermine the monarchy.”

Joy bursts through my chest, and I fling my arms around Prince Kevon’s neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

He wraps his arms around my middle, and his warm, sensual scent engulfs my senses. Suddenly, I’m aware that I’m embracing not just a Noble, but the highest-ranking of them all: a Royal.

Prince Kevon draws back and cups the side of my face with his large hand. “Keep sharing your perspective of the world, Zea-Mays Calico. You make me want to be a better man.”

The admiration in his eyes brings me back to that conversation we had when I thought he was just a guard. Back then, he said Prince Kevon was lucky to have me in the Princess Trials.

His gaze drops to my lips, and a bolt of dread drops into my stomach. He’s going to kiss me. Kiss me like I’m a girl who has admired him from afar and longed to be at his side. He’s going to kiss me when it should be Ryce Wintergreen in his place.

“There she is,” says a sharp voice.

We jump apart to find Ingrid Strab striding through the rose arches flanked by a pair of camerawomen. She reaches the fountain and places her hands on her hips. Behind her are all the other Noble girls, three Guardians, two Artisans, and Emmera.

The boulder of dread in my stomach lightens. I straighten, readying myself for the upcoming confrontation.

Ingrid’s gaze skips over me. “Your Highness, why does one so wise allow himself to be swayed by a creature of such coarse charms?”

“Comments like this are precisely why I agreed to the trials,” says Prince Kevon. “I want to spend the rest of my life with a woman who encompasses the wisdom and beauty of Phangloria in all its varieties. Where you see coarseness, I see the radiance of Gaia, untainted by surgical enhancements.”

My jaw drops, and I swing my gaze back to the Noble girls, who swap uncomfortable glances. Somewhere through the shock of hearing about the Nobles’ artificial beauty, my heart warms at Prince Kevon’s compliment.

Ingrid’s features twist into a mask of anguish. “Is this what we’re to expect in the palace round?” Her voice shakes. “Clandestine meetings between you and whoever stoops low enough to satisfy your carnal desires?”

Prince Kevon steps forward. “Ingrid, is it?”

Something flashes in her eyes. It looks like fury, but the way she clutches herself around the middle indicates mortification. Ingrid won the Detroit Depression round and dined twice with the prince, but now he’s just told the whole of Phangloria that he finds her unremarkable.

“Yes, Your Highness,” she replies, enunciating his title like an insult.

“What is happening out here?” barks a female voice. “Make way for the queen’s guard!”

The girls part, allowing Lady Circi to approach. “How is my security personnel supposed to keep you safe when you wander freely through the grounds without an escort?” She bares her teeth. “Everybody, get inside.”

For a moment, nobody moves. Lady Circi is like the strictest teacher in school, except she’s armed with at least four guns. After my hair-raising one-to-one with her in the hospital and the subsequent doctored footage, I want to stay at Prince Kevon’s side in case I was wrong about her not being present during last night’s attack.

“Now,” she snarls.

Ingrid straightens, raises her head, and turns on her heel. The other girls cast us withering looks before joining their leader under the rose arches. Only the camerawomen remain. One of them shoots footage of Lady Circi’s profile, and the other faces us.

The lady-at-arms sweeps her arm to the side. “I will be having words with Her Majesty.”

“Do tell her that I’m keeping up my end of the bargain,” replies Prince Kevon.

“Barely.” Lady Circi flicks her head in the direction of the doors. “Come on.”