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

Juilliard notices my glance. "Let him sleep. He doesn't often sleep well."

"I wasn't going to wake him." Then, because the question is pressing on the back of my teeth. Because Marcello isn't awake to hear me ask. Because Juilliard's one of the few I can even consider trusting... I ask, "Do you know who the prince is?"

His hands slow, his spine stiffening. "The prince has been hidden from the public since birth. What makes you think I know who he is?"

"You've grown up in or around the castle. Have you not?" I swear Juilliard pushes the needle into my skin tighter, pulling the sutures taut as I ask.

"Yeah."

"So you know?"

"I do not." Juilliard argues his voice rising. He steals another look at Marcello, still fast asleep. His fingers work nimbly against my wound, finishing off the sutures. He sits up. "Let me clean you up and bandage you."

"How could the king actually keep his child hidden for eighteen years? How is it possible that no one sees him?" Slowly, I lower my arm. Roughly, the stitches brush against my elbow.

Juilliard turns back to me, bandages and some sort of wet cloth in his hand. He groans. "Nilsa I don't want to have this conversation with you."

"Why? Are you the prince? Should I be bowing down to your majesty right now?" I feign mock surprise, pressing my palms into my knees and leaning forward. "Oh, Prince Juilliard! I would hate for anyone else to hear that you've come out of hiding before the Games have even been completed. Your father will be disappointed."

"Do not say that! I am not the prince!" His voice is utterly stern.

Clearly.

"I thought you already knew everything about The Oasis, since you hate it so much," he continues, setting down the supplies. I can barely see his pupils with how narrow his already slender eyes are.

"What I know is what I have. Or don't have for that matter."

"What you have are the pathetic grumblings of Hybrids who don't know what they are talking about."

"And you do? Can you give me a good reason for why I have to live the way I live?" Now we're getting off topic. I only meant to get clues as to who the prince may or may not be, handy information for my own arsenal.

He shakes his head and purses his lips. "Just stop looking for the prince. Please. Nothing good can come from it."

"If you don't know who he is then just tell me who would know. Then I'll leave you alone and never speak of it again."

The cold rag drags over my skin. He cleans up and down my torso, carefully avoiding the actual stitches. When he presses a large bandage over the wound, he speaks again.

"The prince is offered companions. Usually eight to ten boys, his same age and with similar characteristics as the king and queen. That way he can run and play in the castle and the only one who knows that he is actually the prince is the king."

"Well surely his companions know too."

"They know they are not the prince, but eventually I'm sure they work out which one of them is actually bound for the crown. And that is all the information I'm going to give you."

"Are you a prince's companion? Is Marcello?" I can't help but ask the question. To push Juilliard for as much as I can pull from him.

"I'm done talking. Go quiz some of the other teams, see how they like it."

"Well, are you finished?"

Juilliard takes a large step back, letting my shirt fall back down over me. He nods.

"Well then, I'll be on my way to ask around. See what I can find out about the Hybrids we get to play these lovely Games with." I push myself to stand. I may have forgotten about all the physical labor I'd just done, momentarily, but my body reminds me of all its aches and pains when I shift.

"Don't get the stitches wet for two days if you can avoid it. Also, if you're going to be chatting up the other teams," he looks at Marcello then back to me, "grab your daggers and keep them on you."

"Are you sending me out into a den of lions?"

"You're choosing to go."

Indeed I am. Though, heeding Juilliard's warning and grabbing my daggers is probably for the best. Giving him my back, I head for the exit of the tent. My eyes sting with exhaustion, but I'd rather sleep when I'm dead.

"You're welcome," Juilliard calls as I pull open the flap and let it drop in place behind me.

I smile to myself. Maybe one day I'll thank one of the Elves for something, just for the pure amusement of seeing the look of shock on their faces. Not today though. Probably not ever. It's just a thought.

New players, from the teams just now making it in, head toward the medical tent. Teams Riveria and Marcrux. The strong hold up the weak. It leaves me to wonder if the spider had finished with poor Noor. Timing had been the only thing that had helped us get to where we are.

Focusing my eyes on the purple tents, I ignore their questioning gazes. Yes, take it in, the Human survived. I remain focused on where I'm going, trying to stay aware of the Hybrids around me too.

Three dark plum tents are lined up in a slight crescent shape, a fire pit nestled in the middle. All the tent flaps are closed except for one, where I see Hedda sitting with gun parts all around her.

"I thought you were going to take a nap?"

"I did." Hedda looks up. Black oil is smudged on her fingers as she messes with the pieces of the weapon.

"I was