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

There is more cheering and far away clapping. I can feel my body sway where I stand. I look down at my bare hands. What can I do with these that will make a difference? My heart skips a beat. I swallow. Am I the sacrificial lamb? No. I refuse.

The announcer takes a deep breath. "Team Ashford! Mavi, male, Elf." That name catches my attention, yanking me out of the heart pounding worry. Mavi takes a large step forward, smiling ear to ear as he gives a shallow bow. When he stands, he waves again. The fine attire of yesterday evening has long been replaced with his own thickly armored clothing. To me, he still looks like a cocky asshole parading as a warrior.

I steal a glance at Marcello. His hands are clasped in front of him but the muscles in his forearms are tensed, his knuckles white, and his jaw is set so harshly that if I try, I might be able to hear his teeth slowly grinding inside his mouth. Marcello, he looks like a warrior. Perhaps he'd been a guardsman in the castle, or part of the king’s army?

"Davison, male, Human." Davison steps around Mavi, giving him a wide berth. A red blush is creeping up his neck and onto his cheeks. Nothing about him is as boisterous as Mavi when he gives a bow and waves gingerly. The crowd continues to cheer, but their exuberance wanes.

"Rake, male, Satyr." Rake steps up, his two curling horns glistening under the lights that shine down on us. If I wasn't already aware of how much of an asshat he really is, I might be inclined to be impressed by the amount of muscle stacked on top of those large hairy legs of his. He's traded his suit for a dark brown loincloth that nearly blends in with the thick brown hair on his legs. His hooves leave crescent shapes in the dirt underneath him.

My attention starts to dwindle again. This time I can't even focus on the Criosphinx. This time I stare down at the dirt.

"Calik, male, Vampire. Dakota, male, Werewolf. Jefferson, male, Elf."

The crowd is wild for Mavi’s team, Team Ashford. All males, no females on this one. The only team of its kind. I can tell the bets on this team winning are high. Does that mean that everyone believes the prince to be on that team? Mavi certainly has the arrogance I'd expect, but not nearly the amount of charm needed. Then there's the other Elf, Jefferson. I look up at him and his ramrod straight posture. Jet black hair is slicked back from his face. His square jaw and large hunched nose look as though he's been offered a punch or two in his life. I glance up at the king. No resemblance. Though I don't think Mavi looks much like him either.

"Team Windsor!" The announcer shouts and it rings in my ears for seconds following. My eyes open wide and my body becomes hot, then cold all at once. Team Windsor? I expected Team Torres not... not my name.

"Marcello!" I snap.

He smiles giving me a view of every single one of his teeth. There’s a sparkle of something dancing in his eyes as he looks at me, raising his hand to wave at the crowd with the rest of our team and says, "I just love a good surprise."

"Why my name?" I whisper.

"Don't make a scene, love." He shushes me with a wink, the announcer simultaneously calls out, "Marcello, male, Elf." And Marcello answers by stepping out of our group. He holds himself with the easy confidence I've known him for, grinning and waving like a Saints damned princess. I watch while his brown hair dips as he lowers into a bow before stepping back to my side. The crowd roars, jumping in a rhythmic beat to their cheers.

"Couldn't you have used Juilliard's last name?" I say immediately when he is next to me again. "This is embarrassing. No one even likes me. I don't want these fuckers knowing anything more about me than they have to." What is Juilliard's last name?

"Finnegan, male, Vampire."

Marcello keeps his gaze forward but tilts his head toward me, talking out the side of his mouth. "Just easier to give them a name that no one would know."

Is that supposed to make me feel better? My forehead creases with the painful ways I draw my brows together in annoyance.

"Sloane, female, Vampire." The announcer shouts.

Finnegan takes Sloane's hand in his, offering her his spot and spinning her dramatically. His arms pan down the length of her body offering her to the crowd like she's the prize to be won. The way he looks at her, the softness that is held in his gaze that he only offers his wife, makes it easy to believe him. Finnegan truly thinks his wife is the best reward he could ever win. He kneels down on one knee, kissing the back of her hand as she gives him half a grin before she waves gently to the crowd. Do they know who they are?

I look at the king. His face is turned, giving me the view of his sharp profile and cutting jaw line as he whispers to the man next to him. He isn't even paying attention, I realize. This is nothing to him. Just some entertainment before his son is set to win. Does the prince, whoever he is, know what events will take place? Has he been trained specifically for them?

"Nilsa, female, Human."

My feet don't move at the sound of my name. My body is anchored to the spot I stand. Marcello blows out a long breath, he puts his hand between my shoulders and gives me a nudge forward. The toe of my boots drags in the dirt, but I move. Many