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

"It was a fast nap." She points her face downward again, but her eyes follow me as I poke my head in.

On either side of the tent are our own cots, made up with plain black bedding. At least we won't be able to see the blood stains so easily. Sitting on top of my bed, my daggers await. I step over Hedda and her mess. Part of tension that's been sitting in my chest all day is released as I pick up the weapons and the belt.

I turn my back to Hedda and the open door. Soft worn leather slides across my stomach, the buckle cold as I clasp my belt around my waist. I tuck the daggers into the top of my pants and frown as the material is telling of what's underneath.

A loud clatter echoes in the large room. I turn quickly. What now? What else could they possibly do to us? The sound repeats and Hedda starts assembling her gun with a trained speed.

"What is that?" I whisper. Grabbing the hem of my shirt I shove it down and watch the room. All I can see are the backs of other tents.

But Hybrids move toward the noise as nosey as I intend to be. Hedda clicks the final parts into place and holds the weapon in her hands. I look at her then the gun, but it's clear she isn't letting it go anytime soon. She stays near me as I follow the growing crowd.

The door to the arena has lowered. Men and women dressed in black and white scurry to and from a smaller door to its left. They bring out food for one table and various bags with large white tags tied around their ends for the other.

"What is this?" I ask Hedda. She shrugs.

My question is answered quickly though, as the announcer comes through the door. One of the cameras buzzes behind him like a gnat and steadies in the air, filming the encounter. I want to slap that thing right out of the sky.

"You'll see we’ve readied some food for completing your first event!" He moves with a growing smile to the other table. "This table," he pats the edge. "has large sums of money. They are not as great as what you'd win if you complete the Games but the king is offering everyone the chance to exit the games now. So should you desire to take the offer, you can pick up the bag of your choosing and be on your way." He points to the door behind him.

"What's the catch?" Someone shouts.

"No catch. It's your chance to leave."

"Temptations." Hedda leans into me. "They do this every time The Oasis Games come around. The king offers something and it's yours if you just give up. Funny thing is, I've never heard of anyone quitting the games and actually making it out."

"So it's just to thin the herd?"

"Yeah."

"Why would the king offer this?" I shout over the crowd. "Is he afraid that his son can't win if he doesn't make it easier on him?"

Heads snap to attention. Gasps leave a few open mouths. Gazes find their way to me until the entire room is looking my direction. The brush of Hedda’s arm leaves my side as she tilts away from me, as if that could disassociate us. I smile at the attention, meeting their gazes one by one.

I’m not looking for some grand act of defiance or to get under the king’s skin, those are just a wonderful bonus. No, I’m looking for their reactions. I’m looking for rage or any other emotion an offended prince might wear.

There are six Elvin males. Excluding Marcello and Juilliard, there are four left. Quickly, I’m sorting through the faces, looking for those with pointed ears. The males from Teams Riveria and Marcrux, I struggle to come up with their names. Lachlan. Credence.

They exchange looks themselves before meeting my line of sight. Some shade of amusement. Less offended, more so interested to see how this will pan out for me. Or… maybe they think it’s silly of me to underestimate the prince like that.

Then there’s Mavi and Jefferson. Mavi’s blonde hair has fallen into his face, but that doesn’t hold back the dark glare that points this away. Jefferson’s dark hair is pulled back from his face, so he can’t hide the snarl parting his lips.

“No,” the announcer snaps. “This is a courtesy. A kindness offered by the king. An escape before a brutal and painful death.”

“Oh, my mistake.” I shrug one shoulder.

Most of the group turns back to look over the food, over the temptations. Part of the attention still lingers. Credence and Lachlan. They both still watch me.

Which one? Which one of you is the prince?

The announcer frowns, but turns his gaze away from me. He forces his lips into a much more pleasant smile. "I'll leave you to it. And I'll see you all tomorrow for the next event."

Tomorrow. Tomorrow doesn't give me time to heal these stitches. Tomorrow doesn't give me the time to figure out who the prince is. Tomorrow hardly gives me enough rest to be ready to break down my body again.

Maybe they're right. Maybe a Human can't survive these Games. Not at this pace.

I fold my arms over my chest, watching to see if anyone makes a move for the table. A few do. An Elf girl. The male Satyr and the Dwarf. They flip open the cards on the end of the bags, looking with wide eyes at the amount scrolled across the tag. None of them pick them up. None of them head for the door.

Some of the crowd makes a move for the food while others moan and turn back to their tents. One quick look around tells me