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

"How will they ever expect to win? Bet low on this one." She chuckles, and every laugh that vibrates through her body rattles my thoughts.

How will they ever expect to win?

Bet low on this one.

The words cut, but that only motivates me more. At this point I have no other choice but to love being the underdog and to surprise everyone when I come out on top. I've lived with it all my life and being underestimated isn't going to end any time soon. My teeth dig into my bottom lip.

"Oh, but there are two Fae on this team." Another man glances between Marcello and Juilliard "I wonder if either of them is the prince. I must say, I don't really see any resemblance."

A deep voice comes behind me, the sound scratchy and raw as if whomever speaking has smoked a thousand cigarettes this very morning. "Perhaps the Human is just bait. Someone they can give up to one of the many monsters that live inside of the Games without remorse."

My already tense muscles tighten a bit more. With a stiff spine, I turn to see who would dare say something that is so utterly disturbing to me. The slight edges of my dress drag in the dirt. I flick the skirt off my leg, ignoring the protests of the other Hybrids as it sends a small cloud of dust onto their shoes. I'm greeted with those same unforgettably cunning eyes.

King Caspar raises his brows. At our proximity, only a foot away from one another, I can actually make out the color in his gaze. A dark brown melt into the slightest caramel color around his pupils. The light color zig zags, making his irises look like a kaleidoscope of honey and light.

"We call them 'the sacrificial lambs.'" He goes on to explain to the others.

I incline my chin. King Caspar remains a towering foot taller than myself. With every inhale his chest rises, his heart beats, and the weapons belted under my gown sting like fire against my skin. He's so close. What would it take to end this all now?

Juilliard moves first, turning to the king with the slightest bow. "My king, please excuse the Human, she knows not of our ways." He looks to me, his eyes flashing in warning, before he whispers under his breath, "Curtsey and turn around."

My mouth drops open. "Curtsey?"

King Caspar waits patiently, rubbing his hand across his chin. A large palm presses to the back of my neck, almost as hot as the weapons hiding under my skirt. Marcello stands at my side. I look for some sort of recognition in King Caspar's eyes as he looks between the two Elves. The only emotion easily readable on his face is clear disdain, and it's pointed directly at me. Likely a mirror of my own expression.

"We'll do it together," Marcello suggests, pressing his hand down on my shoulders. He bends at the waist and even my knees protest the idea as the joints pop loudly while I awkwardly lower myself.

Sloane and Finnegan watch me. The slightest smiles tease at their lips. Hedda shakes her head. Hedda might be the only one who knows how incredibly difficult it is to bow to someone who has given you so little. Who has given me nothing.

I hate myself most as I stand upright. Hate myself for bowing at the feet of some Hybrid made god that does not care for my life one bit. I shuffle to face the couple and the Fawn looking man who’s examining our team. My eyes unfocus as I draw myself inward.

"Am I to stand here while the entirety of this room," I look up to the never-ending rows, "poke fun at the nature of my being?"

Marcello sighs and bows his head as soon as I ask the question. The spectators jolt with a high-pitched laugh.

"She does spit a little fire though, doesn't she?" The woman gasps.

King Caspar slips between Juilliard and I to stand in front of me. A current of warm air follows him, smelling like smoke and musk. A golden t-shaped tunic fits against his lean body tucked into black leather pants held up by a large golden buckle. A red cape is dramatically hung over his shoulders held together to the right of his neck with a glittering gold broach. He leans closer to examine me, fanning me with his meaty breath. The pointed crown on top of his head doesn't shift as he lowers.

He glances with a growing smile to the crowd. "I'd like to bet five hundred legends on her."

Five hundred legends is more than I make in a year. My mind can hardly grasp at the thought of having or spending money so frivolously as this. He's wasting five hundred legends on me when that money could feed his people.

"Five hundred legends!" The Fawn man stutters. "You think she has a shot at winning?"

King Caspar's white teeth flash in a vicious smile that splits sharply across his face. "I'm betting five hundred legends that she perishes within the very first event!" When he tilts back with a laugh, so does everyone else around us.

Blood rushes to my cheeks. Anger burns inside of me so violently as I feel the weight of their embarrassing stares that my entire body starts to turn pink. I pin my attention on the king, glaring daggers at him.

A small voice in the back of my mind tells me I can end it right now. I can cut that degrading laugh of his right out of his throat if I just reach for my knives and move. It would be so easy, too. My hands tremble but I move focused solely on that thought. Air rushes around my palm as I arch my arm through the air. I don't move for my