Vengeance (The Prince's Games Book 1) by Rebecca Grey (electric book reader TXT) 📕

tonight... you can do whatever it is that you please without there being a threat to your life."

"Oh, that sounds lovely, we can be whoever we want to be for one whole night." Sloane rises with the help of Finnegan and they move across the floor, following Marcello's path. Juilliard stands, staring down at me.

I look back to the window I so desperately want to press my face against. His words should be freeing. Like Sloane said... I can be whoever I wish to be tonight. The only problem is I don't hardly even know who I am. Who am I outside of hiding in the shadows and killing Hybrids?

"Come on. You're going to love it here," he says a little softer.

"Do you and Marcello love it here?" I drag my face up to him and stare. His fingers find the edge of his shirt and he fiddles with the hem, not talking. The last of the legends are cold against my palm as I grab them up and push myself to standing.

"Not exactly, but it's better than The Bend. There are plenty of amazing things that exist in The Oasis. Just because we don't agree with a few things doesn't mean that as a whole it isn't still good. Let me show what you've been missing all these years."

So much. I know it.

When he turns away, I follow. The smell of cigarettes on the cloak I've stolen from him has faded, but it still clings like a fog around Juilliard himself. It stings in the back of my throat with every step I take up to the deck behind him.

"Do you ever think that you should maybe put on some sort of cologne or something to cover up the stench of your incessant smoking?" I cough.

"Normally, I would." He looks over his shoulder as he reaches the top of the stairs and the evening sun hits his face. "But if I have to hang out with all of you, who live in The Bend anyway and don't even know what a shower is, you can deal with my scent too."

My eyes grow wide. Oh no. Do I smell? I mean, it's been days on this boat and I'm no stranger to sweating. I want to growl something back up to him, I mean to, but when I hear birds chirping and the ringing of a bell as another boat pulls to dock, I turn to see the city.

When the dock ends a smooth cement path begins. No gravel, no garbage, no frowning angry Hybrids. A banner is strung between two tall poles, I assume with some sort of welcome, because black and gold balloons are tied almost everywhere they possibly can be. A few of Marcello's crew members walk under the banner carrying my trunk down the long walkway leading to a round building that takes up most of my view. It rises ten stories into the air.

The path leads to one building. Perfect painted stone rises several stories up into the air. The building rounds in a large circle. Each window is arched, tinted so we see only the reflection of what’s outside and not what waits for us within. Two large black glossy doors are propped open, balloons tied on their knobs too. Hybrids of all kinds flow in and out.

I see all of the main species, everyone I'm familiar with. Vampires, Elves, Orcs, and Dwarfs. Then, sprinkled in are lesser species I'm not as familiar with. Hybrids with horns, Hybrids with scales, Hybrids that look like Humans except for the glaringly obvious fact that their skin is made up of tree bark, probably Dryad.

It's not just the mix of species gathered all in one place for this large event that I've yet to be introduced to that makes my feet catch against the ground. The city rises up all around us. Buildings made almost entirely of glass, of... mirrors, reflect the momentous occasion that is The Oasis Games. There aren’t any shattered windows. Nothing looks broken, rusted or even as if at any moment it could cave right in. And there are so many buildings. Big, small, and all the sizes in-between crammed against one another.

I've been to The Oasis before. The one time I walked their home dotted streets. It was nothing, nothing, like this. My breath is stolen from my chest, alarm bells ring inside of my head. This place isn't only beautiful, it's deadly for someone like me.

When my feet tangle under me again as I'm spinning in every direction trying to soak it all in, Marcello's arm grips my elbow. Not only can I smell his candy scent, but the air here is... it's the best air I've ever breathed.

"Are you okay?" he says. "Is it the large group of Hybrids that makes you nervous? I can promise you as my guest and a participant in this game that no one here can touch you until the Games themselves begin. And even then, I won't allow it."

"No, it isn't that," I mumble, shaking him off my arm. He stays near me as we walk under the large banner and I breathe, "What did that say?"

I'm not sure if I can believe Marcello and Juilliard's promise. In my experience Hybrids lie. And isn't that a rule that I have made myself follow for years? Isn't that a rule that's kept me alive thus far? Don't trust anyone, Nilsa. I can't trust him, I can't trust his friend, and currently I'm not sure if I can even trust myself.

The amount of muddled Immortal bloodlines that pass us by is a threat to my own very existence. I know that. Marcello himself doesn't, I truly don't believe that he does. But it's not that pressure that makes my movements stiff and has me noticing where all the shadows start and stop. It's The Oasis. It's—It’s