Once An Eve Novel

A sign hung down the side of one building, WELCOME, PRINCESS GENEVIEVE painted in tall red letters.
    We rolled forward. The Palace was just ahead, the cluster of giant white buildings a hundred yards away. A marble pedestal was set up in front of the fountains. A wooden podium faced out over the largest crowd of all, gathered on the street just in front of it. I couldn’t stop thinking of Caleb, of the troops tracking him through the wild. I hadn’t slept. My head ached, a dull, constant pain.
    “Princess! Princess! Over here!” a girl cried. She couldn’t have been much older than me, her hair a tangle of black curls. She bounced up and down on her heels. But I looked right past her, at the man hovering over her shoulder. His hair was so greasy it stuck to his forehead, his chin rough from days without shaving.
    The car idled, waiting for the King to exit his vehicle in front of the Palace steps. The man pushed through the crowd. I gripped the seat, suddenly looking for the soldiers who were stationed along the parade route, guns in their hands. The nearest one was five feet behind me, his eyes locked on the King’s vehicle. The man pressed closer.
    Then his hand was up, hurling a large gray rock through the air. Time slowed. I saw it coming toward me in a clear arc. But before it reached me the car lurched forward. The rock whizzed behind my back and ricocheted off the far barricade, panicking the crowd.
    “He threw it at her!” a heavyset woman with a blue scarf yelled to the soldier, as the rock skidded across the pavement, settling by the curb. “That man threw a rock at the Princess!” She pointed to the man across the street. He was already pushing into the crowd, away from the Palace, toward the vast stretches of land beyond the City center.
    “Are you all right?” A soldier ran at the car, resting his hand on the door. Two more took off after the man.
    “Yes,” I said, my breath short. Three soldiers surrounded the car as we moved closer to the Palace. “Who was he?” I asked Beatrice, scanning the crowd for more angry faces.
    “The King has made the City a great place,” Beatrice said, smiling at the soldiers who now walked beside the car. “But there are still some who are unhappy,” she said, her voice much lower. “Very unhappy.”
    One of the soldiers opened the door of the car, letting us out in front of the giant marble stairs. The screaming crowd drowned out my thoughts. People leaned over the barricades, their hands reaching out for me.
    Beatrice stooped to grab the train of the red evening gown I wore, and I kneeled beside her, pretending to adjust my shoe. “What do you mean?” I asked, remembering what the King had said about the people who questioned his choices. Her eyes darted up to a soldier standing just a few feet away, waiting to escort me to my seat. “Are you unhappy here?” I whispered.
    Beatrice let out an uncomfortable laugh, her eyes returning to the soldier. “The people are waiting for you, Princess,” she said. “We should go.” In one swift motion she stood, fluffing the train of the dress.
    I climbed the stairs, the soldiers surrounding me. The crowd fell silent. The midday sun was scorching. The King stood to greet me, pressing his thin lips once against each cheek. Sergeant Stark sat beside him. He’d traded his uniform for a dark green suit, medals and badges marking its front. Beside him was a short, plump man, his bald spot pink and sweaty from the sun. I sat down in the empty seat next to him as the King took his place at the podium.
    “Citizens of The New America. We have come together on this glorious day to celebrate my daughter, Princess Genevieve.” He gestured to me and the people cheered, their applause echoing off the giant stone buildings. I looked straight ahead, taking in the crowd, which expanded across the City sidewalks and into alleyways. Spectators hung out of the top floors of apartment buildings. Others stood on the overpass, their palms against the glass.
    “Twelve years she was inside one of our prestigious Schools, until she was discovered and returned to me. While Genevieve was there, she excelled in every subject, learned to play the piano and paint, and enjoyed the security of the guarded compound. She, like so many of the School’s students, received an unparalleled education. The Teachers spoke of her commitment to her studies and her boundless enthusiasm, describing it as the very spirit on which our nation was