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

that neither Marcello or Juilliard had bothered to come out for this. They wouldn't have quit anyway.

Credence stalks toward me. His forehead wrinkled with frustration. He stops looking down his nose at Hedda then curling his lip at me. "Awfully brave of you, Human, to spout off things like that when the king already wants you dead."

"The king may want me dead, but I'm the best entertainment the crowd has. Will he or won't he kill me? How long can I survive?" I smile, but my fingers curl into my biceps.

He rolls his eyes taking a large step around me, but I follow him. "Did I personally offend you?" I ask.

"Your existence offends me. I shouldn't have to be breathing the same air as you."

I snort and step aside, dramatically gesturing for him to walk on by. Well, I can't count him out of the running for the title of prince. He sure does act like one.

I turn to speak to Hedda, to ask her who she thinks the prince is, but she's gone. Her curvaceous form teeters, gun still in hand, next to the food. She nudges a couple Hybrids out of the way with the barrel.

I inhale deeply, but the expanding of my lungs pulls at my stitches in an aching annoying manner. At some point, Juilliard's meds are going to wear off and I'll be in much worse condition then I am in currently.

Curious, I walk up to the tables. The food looks edible. Sandwiches, cuts of meat, platters of vegetables, and bowls of roasted potatoes. Hedda helps herself to a plate of everything. I grab a sandwich, taking a tentative bite. Tastes like a sandwich... so I take another bite and move toward the temptations.

Six bags. Six chances for Hybrids to bow out of the games gracefully. Or maybe not bow out at all if what Hedda had said is correct. I open one of the cards. Five thousand legends. I open another. Ten thousand legends. One more. Twelve thousand legends.

That sort of money could change your life in The Bend. That sort of money would get you killed if you weren't careful. It's the kind that would get me killed.

"Thinking of taking the bait?" A voice says softly beside me. I lift my attention and meet the sea-green eyes of Mavi. His scowl from earlier is replaced with a sloppy grin.

"Not at all, just curious what they think someone would take in place of the reward for winning the Games. Have you come to ponder if it's worth running away?"

His hands fall to his lean waist, his shoulders bouncing with a laugh. "No Human, I came to talk to you."

"Me?" Now this is an interesting turn of events.

"I came to apologize, because I think we may have gotten off on the wrong foot." He smiles, but I don't believe that it's genuine for a Saints damn minute.

"Oh, you mean when you bickered with Marcello and threatened to have him removed from the Games? I'm not sure how you would have managed that. Or are we talking about the time in the elevator? Which misstep is it?"

"Marcello and I... I don't see either of us ever finding a way to truly get along." He stares past me. "Then again." His eyes drift back to me. "It won't be an issue if one of us dies during the Games."

"Very true." I nod along, watching him. My feet are bare and the smooth floor underneath is cold. I shift my weight, leaning closer. Lines form around his mouth, but Mavi doesn't move away. He notes the hole in my shirt and the bandage on my side, saying nothing.

“As for the elevator, I can’t really say that I’m truly sorry. It was immensely entertaining on my part. Though I understand why that would make you upset.”

I roll my eyes. "I may consider overlooking what you did for the next five minutes, if you can tell me about these other Elves?"

"What do you want to know?" His slender brow lifts.

"I want to know who the prince is."

He chuckles at that. "Everyone wishes to know who the prince is."

"But why do I get the feeling that every Elf here knows and is just keeping it to themselves?"

"Well the king would have their head on a spike if they spoiled all the fun. Who do you think is the prince?"

I take another bite of my sandwich, thinking and chewing before I respond. Others are still milling about, giving Mavi questioning looks. "What would you do if I said it was you?"

"I'd be flattered. Aren't princes supposed to be handsome and charming? So if you think I'm the prince, you must think I am those things."

It's my turn to laugh. I give an unladylike snort that makes Mavi's smile grow just a little more. "You and Marcello must be related, you talk so much alike."

Mavi's smile falls. "We are very much alike. Both very loyal. To a fault."

And I wonder what that's supposed to mean.

"Who do you want me to think is the prince?" I force the subject back to what I truly need to know.

"No one. Pretend the prince does not exist. That will suit you better. Suit your team better. You've already made it quite hard on yourselves, though I must say I'm surprised you came through as quickly as you did."

I pout. "Guess I'll just have to be on the lookout for a handsome and charming Elf." Swiftly, I turn to give him my back. I shove the last of my sandwich in my mouth and head for my tent.

Pieces. All of the information I'm gathering are pieces to a very large puzzle.

#1 TEAM MARCRUX:

Thomos - Male, Orc

Lachlan - Male, Elf

India - Female, Elf

Rafferty - Male, Dwarf

Costello - Male, Orc