Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) Rebecca Grey (first e reader txt) 📖

heat presses back down on me inside of this tent. "You had a nightmare."

"I did." I nod starting to pace. Move, I need to move. "I've got to go."

"Go where?" He stands from the cot.

"Away. Out. I need air. I need you to stop breathing my air!" I hiss at him. I know it sounds ridiculous, but every time he inhales it feels like he's stealing from me.

Hurrying from the tent, I can feel all the loose strands of my long hair flowing behind me. Marcello takes a few steps to follow, but stops short. He doesn't follow me out of the tent. I rush by Sloane, Finnegan and Hedda sitting around the fire. Their conversation stops as I run by them.

Space. I just need space and air. Maybe I even miss being on that stupid stolen boat too. At least there I could escape to the stars, though I doubted they were even out right now. I'd dozed off with Marcello at peace for possibly the first time in my entire life, and in The Oasis no less. Only a mid-afternoon nap, now evening is upon me and I may not sleep at all this night.

Darting past other mingling challengers, I run myself right to the river. My boots come off first, then my shirt, my belt, and finally my pants. The fanciful undergarments given to me by Genovese remain the only things that keep me somewhat modest.

I run and I jump, letting the water consume me. It's warmer than I thought it might be. I'd wrongly assumed it would be chilled like the rivers that cut through The Bend here and there. Bubbles dance up my skin as I stay submerged until my lungs burn with no reprieve.

Pushing my hair down and away from my face, I emerge with a loud gasp for air. Behind my eyelids, the image of Arron’s body coated in blood remains. Always followed by his weakened state before his age finally came for him. It's terrible, and I can look at it no longer.

With wide eyes, I float and stare up at the ceiling. Only then do I hear the notes of a simple tune. Strings plucked by fingers of someone without thinking of what exact song they intend to play. My torso sinks under the water, fixing my legs under me to touch the bottom.

Silver-blonde hair is pulled in a low bun, green mischief filled eyes watch me back. Mavi continues to strum the strings. His pants are cuffed at his knees where the water hits and his feet dangle below him.

"Have you solved the mystery yet?" He plays a long dramatic chord. "Who do you think the prince is now? Is it me? Is it Credence? What about your lover-boy Marcello? Have you asked that prudish fuck Juilliard yet?"

Beneath the water my body looks more like a mirage. It gives me some solace to know that he doesn't know exactly what I look like mostly naked. Though he very well could have seen me when I rushed right down here.

"How long have you been there?" I ask with a narrowed gaze.

"Long enough to see you shimmy right out of your pants. Are you not trying to seduce me like you did Jefferson? I thought you'd pegged me as the prince."

Well that answers that. He'd certainly seen plenty, so perhaps I shouldn't worry now what he could potentially witness when I get out of the water.

"I can promise you that I did no such thing with Jefferson. Seducing, I mean. Now the sex, that happened, but strictly to satisfy my own needs."

"And you don't find yourself with need in my presence?" His fingers move up and down the guitar strings.

"I don't." I lift my chin. "Where did you get the instrument?"

"A guardsman gave it to me. All you have to do is ask. Walk right on up to that little door the shriveled looking announcer keeps coming through, knock on it, and whatever you wish for entertainment will suddenly appear. Though it's probably too late for you to learn that now. With the final event coming up tomorrow evening and all."

My palms cut through the water, pushing me forward to the edge where he sits propped. "I want to try it," I say more than ask. My palms meet the smooth concrete as I pull myself up to sit next to him, aware that with the slightest wrong move I might slip back into the waters at any moment. I'm also far too aware that the red bottoms and the red clinging top half are all that I'm in.

"No longer care for a swim?" Mavi's hand stops and so does the song.

"If I stay in the water you might have your chance at drowning me, putting my team at a severe disadvantage."

"If I were to kill anyone on your team tonight, fear not, because it certainly wouldn’t be the fragile Human." Mavi tisks.

There's a slight sneer to his lips as I reach and pull the guitar from his hands, settling it into my lap. "I thought we were trying to be friends. Would it kill you to share?"

"The friends I normally acquaint myself with don't take away something I'm clearly using while they drip water all over me."

"Well you must not have very fun friends then." My calloused fingers fit right to the strings and I smile.

"No. I'm afraid they are not."

I stare down at my self-taught fingers. My thumb glides over the strings while I press and move my hands slowly to the different chords whose names I've never learned. After a moment, my song begins to emerge. Admittedly it's a sad tune, one that reminds me of an old lullaby that was mainly meant to scare children instead of putting them to sleep. But I'd learned it on my own and I'm