Legacy and the Queen. Annie Matthew

to express to her that she was sorry? That she understood Jenni’s plight? That she was only playing to save her best friend from the same fate, that she had an orphanage full of little children to care for?

      By the time Legacy reached the net, her whole body was trembling. And when she put her hand out, Jenni clutched it so hard that Legacy felt the bones in her fingers crowding together.

      “I’m sorry,” Legacy stammered. “I—”

      Jenni leaned close to Legacy’s face. “Sorry?” Jenni said. “Sorry? The only thing you should be sorry about is if you don’t win the nationals.”

      Legacy looked up at her in surprise.

      Jenni glared back. “If I’m going back to the mines because of you,” she said, “you better win. And when you lift up that trophy, you do it for me. You do it for the rest of us provis.”

      Then Jenni was moving away, and flashbulbs were popping. Someone grabbed Legacy’s arm and asked her to whom she pledged her loyalty. The crowds were roaring so loudly she had trouble hearing her own thoughts, but she took one knee as she’d seen players in the papers doing, looked up at Silla, and thanked her for the opportunity she’d provided.

      Then Paula and Angelo posed her with a trophy. Flashes went off on all sides. Paula prodded Legacy’s ribs with her elbow and murmured that she should turn her head. “Show the better side of your face,” Paula said. “And smooth out your hair.”

      Surprised, Legacy tried to pass her hand over her hair. It was loose, as it always was: when she ran, Legacy liked to feel the wind running through it. Now she realized how unkempt it must seem to all the city dwellers with their ornate braids. Suddenly embarrassed again, she felt heat beginning to creep into her face, but Angelo had already grabbed her other arm, and then they were leading her away from the tent, moving toward the towering walls of the city.