Page 3 of The Promised Prince
Dodging several guards with luggage in their hands, Renna ran into the small, wood stable along the side of the main house. Her head popped into a few stalls, looking for her old horse, Canyon Ann, but none of the horses were there. The stable was empty. Preetis must have them in the fields; they would have to reunite later. Renna scanned the stable, finding what she was looking for on a rusted hook next to some rakes.
Thank you, Preetis. Renna unfastened her pink travel dress and pulled the farmhand’s work pants on, throwing his gray shirt over her head. The best part of moving to the Government Center had been the upgrade to vibrantly colored clothing. One minute at Wellenbreck Farm, and she was already back to wearing muted colors. She turned her head as she ran out the stable’s back door, giving the bustling front yard one last look. Nobody seemed to notice her sprinting for the hill.
Renna smirked. Dressing as a man had likely helped her cause.
The mile-long path to the water was overgrown with abandonment, but as Renna approached the pond, everything else around the water remained the same. In a way, it was comforting how time had left this place behind, yet it was still here when Renna needed it.
She walked across the splintered dock, knowing from memory which boards to avoid stubbing her toes on. The smell of aspen trees filled her nose as she breathed in. She thought about testing the water’s temperature first, but her father’s voice sounded in her thoughts.“Don’t think. Just jump.”
So she did—letting out a scream as she plugged her nose.
The chilly water covered her, reviving her senses. She let out another yelp when she came up for air—not because of the cold, but because she was elated to be home. She drifted on her back, letting the water lap around her.
The cold pond tugged at her memories, bringing them to the front of her mind. She could picture her father with her, see flashes of his facial expressions, his silvery beard, his broad shoulders, his playful eyes. It felt so real. Vivid memories had been hard to come by as time passed, but memories were effortless at the pond.
The buzz of a personal transporter scattered Renna’s thoughts away. She groaned, lifting her head. It had to be Mangum, her mother’s guard, coming to take her back to Wellenbreck Farm. Was she missed already? She slapped the water in front of her.
I just got here.
Couldn’t her mother give her one afternoon? It had beenfour yearssince Renna had been there. Four years since she had left her comfortable home at Wellenbreck Farm for a fast-paced life at the New Hope Government Center. Four years since her mother had married the king of New Hope.
The PT’s hum grew louder, echoing off the thick trees. Renna had seconds before Mangum would arrive. She couldn’t really blame him. He was following the queen’s orders.
She blew out a breath in frustration and began swimming toward the dock when a sudden idea made her stop. If she was going to be dragged back to her mother, she might as well do it in style.
Renna grinned. She flipped onto her stomach, waiting until the PT’s sound was upon her, and then immersed her head underwater. She floated, careful not to move a muscle. She didn’t know how long it would take for Mangum to find her, but for the sake of a joke, she was willing to hold her breath as long as she could. After all, when faking her death by drowning, appearance was everything.
Poor Mangum.He’llprobably have a heart attack when he finds me.
2
Trev
Trev slowed his machine to a stop, his muscles relieved to have a break from driving. He had started the day in Dacoma. His father didn’t see any use in visiting the small, far-away cities in the outskirts of Albion borders. But Trev wanted to show every citizen that he cared for them. If Trev had to be forced onto a campaign tour, he would do it his own way. The tour was supposed to help him in the King Ruler election at the end of the year, but it was more than that to Trev. He wanted to get to know the people—their needs and struggles. How could he lead them, be their king, if he didn’t know them?
Trev kicked out the stand at the bottom of his PT, letting the weight of the motorized bike rest against it. He pulled his helmet off, hanging it on the machine’s handlebars. His body ached everywhere from straddling the leather seat for so many miles. Even his fingers hurt from grasping the handlebars and pushing the lever forward with his thumb.
He turned to the water, hoping its coolness would soothe his tired muscles. Soft ripples rolled lazily along, begging him to dive through their perfection. His eyes followed the hypnotizing movement until he noticed something gray bobbing in the water a few yards away. Squinting against the warm sunlight, he stepped to the pond’s edge for a closer look.
Was that a body?
Alarm took over.
He sprang into action, removing his boots and weapons belt. With one swift motion, he dove into the water, the sting of cold pricking his skin. His focus was on getting to the lifeless body’s side, and in three strokes, he was there. He pushed the body over, recognizing the curves of a young woman. Massive amounts of wet hair covered her face, tangling between his fingers.
Heart pounding, Trev wrapped his arm under her shoulder and dragged her limp body to the dock’s ladder. It was a bit awkward, but he managed to hoist her up and spread her out on the decaying wood. Had he found her too late? He leaned over, checking her neck for a pulse.
That’s when the dead girl gave him a heart attack.
“Save me, Mangum!” she shouted, jerking dramatically.
The sudden burst of life from the drowning victim startled Trev, causing him to jump back, but there was nowhere for him to go. He was going to fall, and there was nothing he could do about it. Everything seemed to be in slow motion—arms and legs flailing in the air as he dropped back. For a split second, his eyes locked with the woman, who looked as surprised as he felt. Then his back slapped against the water, and he fell under.
He emerged with an alarming amount of spits and coughs.
“You’re not Mangum,” the girl gasped, leaning over the dock’s edge, eyes wide. She reached her hand out to help pull him up.
“And you’re not dead,” he grumbled, purposefully avoiding her proffered hand. He swam to the ladder instead.
