by James Tate
It wasn’t in my nature. It wasn’t going to change today just because some hot-as-fuck prince decided to pay me a little attention.
Nope.
As gently as I could, I freed myself from his hold. His eyes widened, and the smile faded from his lips. “Shit, sorry, was I hurting you?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No, not at all. I just like to … walk on my own.”
The slightest smile returned. “Fair enough. Guess I need to pay closer attention to my little American princess.”
A snort escaped, and it was so gloriously unprincess-like that both of us burst into laughter because the timing really couldn’t have been better. Alex looked younger when he laughed, and I enjoyed how relaxed he seemed to be. The few times we’d chatted, it felt effortless to be around him; he made it easy to forget that he was even a prince, let alone a crown prince.
“What’s your first class?” he asked, starting to walk the rest of the way along the hall and letting me catch up on my own. As requested.
Flipping the strap of my bag off one arm, I rifled through until I found the paper with my schedule on it. Alex blinked a few times. “No palm reader?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Yeah, they aren’t really accessible to most of the world. Then again, neither is paper.”
For most of my life I’d used a reusable board that could be wiped clean when I was done with my lessons. I’d had one for each class. If I wrote small enough, I could get a month of lessons on it. It worked because we’d have a quiz at the end of every month, and then we’d wipe the board clean and start again.
A palm reader was like the pre-war smartphones, except instead of a hand-held device, a thin band around Alex's wrist could provide information, such as his schedule, school work, and research as a hologram on his open palm. So freaking cool, but so freaking expensive. Of course, all the students here had one.
"Uhh, history, apparently. What about you?" Despite my plans to steer well clear of the royals—or the crown heirs at any rate—I found myself eager to know more about this gorgeous blond prince.
"Politics," he replied with a rueful grin. Of course he was taking politics; he was going to be the leader of one of the major world powers. "I'm in fourth year, so we won't have any classes together, unfortunately."
"Oh." My mood fell. For some reason I'd thought that him being my student guide meant we would have some classes together. But now that he’d said that, he definitely didn't look my age. "That's cool. I was planning on steering clear of you anyway." I said it with a teasing grin because even I didn't believe me anymore.
Fucking hell, I was so screwed if I couldn't shake this crush on Alex. Nothing good could come from messing around with him.
"That's okay, Violet," he replied with a smirk. "I enjoy a challenge. Come on, Professor McDermott’s history class is this way."
I bit the inside of my lip to hold back what was sure to be a way too enthusiastic smile as we continued down the hallway. I didn't know this guy... not really. But he was definitely flirting, and damn it all to hell, I loved it.
"Tell me something about yourself, Violet," Alex said, stopping outside a closed door some moments later. "First thing that comes to mind."
"Uh," I said, startled. "What?"
He arched a brow, leaning one strong shoulder against the wall like he was in absolutely no hurry to get to his own class. "Well, all I really know about you is that you're on scholarship, you're from America, and you have no desire to exploit my affections for money or prestige. I want to know more."
I blinked a few times. "Well, that's not all you know."
His other brow raised, and his head tilted slightly in silent question.
"You also know that I dance when I'm drunk." I wrinkled my nose at him, and he laughed. Yeah, I'd caught him watching me and Mattie on the dance floor, and his stare had contained way more than casual interest.
"I know that you dance really well and suspect you don't need to be drunk to do so."
I gave him a small nod. "Fair point. Is this my class?"
"It is. I know you and Mattie have a thing going... but would you maybe consider having lunch with me? I'd really like to get to know you better, Violet." Alex leaned in slightly as he spoke, so much so that our clothes brushed and my heart rate sped up. Was he going to kiss me? Right here in the hallway outside my class?
"Careful, Cinderella," a cruel voice sneered, making me startle, "getting too close to Alex can have detrimental health impacts."
I shot a death glare at Rafe, but he just casually strolled past us like he didn't even notice my response. He fucking did, though. Why say anything at all other than to get a rise out of me?
Ugh. Prince Rafael was fast becoming my least favorite person on the planet. And that included the matron of my girls’ home. And those bitches who’d mocked my name.
Shaking off the dark cloud of Rafe's threats, I turned my attention back to Alex, only to find him scowling down the hall in the same direction I'd been looking.
"I should go," he said before I could speak. The flirting tone had vanished, his voice tight. "I'll see you at lunch."
Then he was gone, leaving me standing there alone outside the history room without even waiting for a response. He'd just assumed my answer would have been yes for lunch, too.
Chapter 8
Throughout my first three classes of the day, I spoke to no one. Not a single person. Not even Alex who was supposed to be my escort for the day.
Even the professors pretended I wasn’t there, and it wasn't for a lack of me trying to get their attention, either. By the time I'd been totally ignored for the fourth time, I gave up. If these arrogant, entitled bastards wanted to be like that, then fuck them. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of continuing to embarrass myself while they snickered into their hands.
Besides, as far as bullying went, getting ignored was low on the scale. I could handle ghosting my way through four years at Arbon Academy to get that shiny degree at the end of it all.
Leaving my lecture on socio-economics—a subject that focused heavily on congratulating the wealthy and downplaying the systemic poverty rife in our world—I'd already become comfortable with being invisible. So much so, that I was totally taken off guard when a girl shoulder-checked me.
The hallway had filled with uniformed students, all on their way to the lunch room, but that still didn't prevent me from gracelessly crashing to my ass on the marbled floor.
"What the fuck?" I spat, glaring up at the girl. But it was pointless. She'd already faded into the crowd.
"Yeah, you’d better scurry away, Serafina!" a guy shouted, and I tipped my head back to find Nolan standing over me with his hands on his hips and a scowl on his face. "You okay, new girl?" His attention shifted down to me, his brow smoothing.
"Fine," I muttered, taking his offered hand to get back to my feet.
He held onto my fingers a fraction longer than necessary, then released them with a small smile. "You sure? Nothing bruised?"
"Just my dignity," I admitted, smoothing my hands down my skirt to be sure my underwear wasn't on display. "Thanks for..." I trailed off, unsure what I was thanking him for. Maybe for not pretending I didn't exist?
Nolan smiled widely, throwing an arm across my shoulders while whispers escalated all around us. "For not being a narrow-minded, stuck-up prick like ninety percent of this academy? You're welcome. But I should probably point out that the rumor mill is all kinds of wild about you today. You made quite the impression last night."
I grimaced. "Blame your sister. She kept giving me these flaming green drinks." I shuddered at the memory, my stomach rolling painfully. I'd managed to hide my hangover most of the day, but it was far from gone.
Nolan laughed, totally uncaring of the stares and whispers. "She's great like that. You joining us for lunch today, new girl?"
I started to accept, then paused as a spark of suspicion threaded through me. "You and Mattie? Or you and..."
Nolan rolled his eyes, running his free hand through that dark red hair. "Rafe's not as bad as you're thinking. I swear."
I barked a snide laugh. "Oh sure. That's why on my first day he called me frigid and took a bet on me sucking Alex’s dick, and then, this morning, he threatened me when Alex was getting flirty before class."
My new friend cringed slightly. "He has his reasons."
My lips parted to tell Nolan what I thought of Rafe's "reasons," but a strong hand wrapped around my wrist and tugged me out of Nolan's grip. As I slid across the hall, Nolan lunged after me, and his untucked shirt lifted, giving me a flash of bandage with a distinct red seeping through one section. Before I could think on that, I was in another person’s arms.
"There you are, Violet," Alex commented, tucking me into his side. "I was waiting for you outside the dining hall, but someone told me that Nolan had you cornered. Is everything okay?"
"Calm your tits, Alex," Nolan drawled. "Violet and I are friends. You remember what friends are, right? They're those people who don't hate you. Oh wait. Maybe you don't remember."
Alex’s expression didn’t change, but something lurked in the light blue of his eyes. Shadows flickered across them, dark memories. I recognized that look. I’d seen it in my own reflection more than once, until I’d learned to channel that darkness into something useful. Something that would ensure I never ended up in that position again….
Alex’s wide smile looked more than a little forced as he flashed perfect teeth at us. “At some point,” he said to Nolan, “we all have to grow up, put our youths behind us, and step into the roles that we were born into. Life is not a fucking fairy tale, Nole; you know that better than anyone.”
His words were deeper than I’d expected. They stopped Nolan from replying, his face dropping for a moment. He looked … sad—an expression that existed for about half a second before it was wiped clean.
“Are you coming with us, new girl?” he said, deliberately ignoring Alex. “Mattie is waiting for you. You may not know this about my sister yet, but she will have no issues literally ripping you out of Alex’s arms to keep you away from him.”
A low, angry sound rumbled from the prince who was still holding me far too possessively. The last thing I needed was to draw this kind of attention to myself—students were surreptitiously staring our way, and I could feel their attention. They weren’t doing that good a job at hiding it. So as gently as I could, I again found myself escaping the prince’s hold and stepping back a few paces. “How about we catch up after classes?” I said to Alex, and even though Nolan was glaring a fantastically glare-y look my way, I couldn’t find it in myself to get upset about it.
I liked Alex. I wasn’t the sort of person to lie to myself, not over something as obvious as this. Did I trust Alex? Fuck no. Not even a little, but the attraction was there.
I wanted to explore it.
He nodded, eyes never leaving my face. “Okay, it’s a date,” he said, and I couldn’t quite get a read on how he was feeling. “Why don’t you meet me on the field at 4:30? You can catch the last part of training.”
Training. Soccer. Rafe.
Dammit.
“Sure, sounds like a plan,” I conceded. I’d already rejected him for lunch; I couldn't do it again. Rafe was just an annoying nuisance. I could handle his snide remarks and asshole-ish personality.
Alex shot Nolan another withering look, and then with a smirk and wink for me, he turned and walked away.
The tension eased, and I found myself breathing a little deeper. “Well, that escalated quickly,” I said, joking before I could even think about it.
Nolan laughed, wrapping an arm around me again so he could haul me into his hard body and drag me down the hall. A snort of laughter escaped me, but I didn’t fight to get out of his hold. It was the strangest thing, but somehow, Nolan and Mattie had turned into people I liked and would consider friends—despite knowing them all of two days.
I’d always marveled at those rare people you met in life where you had almost an instant friendship.
I wondered if I’d feel the same when I dug a little deeper into who they were. For now though, I would not dwell too hard because I could really use some allies in this scary new world.
“Come on,” Nolan said, half carrying me as he ran. “I’m starving, and the food is so damn good here.”
At that thought, my poor abused stomach rumbled, but in a different way, to the sick swirl of alcohol abuse. “I could eat,” I admitted, surprised to find it was true.
When we reached the cafeteria, which was at the back of the school in a huge, stand-alone room, I ground to a halt.
“What in the fuck…?” I trailed off as my mind tried to correlate this room with what I knew of eating in schools. I turned to Nolan. “How is this a cafeteria?”
He laughed, loudly, and I figured that my expression was both impressed and dumbfounded.
“They don’t like us to suffer the peasant life,” he said, putting some pomp in his tone.
Understatement. Arbon’s cafeteria was more like a million-star restaurant. The huge room was lined with dark purple curtains that were topped off with gold tassels and gathered together in some sections to allow sunlight to stream through stained-glass windows.
Round tables that sat eight were scattered across the huge space, and each of them was adorned with a white table cloth, glassware, and a huge vase of long-stemmed flowers that most definitely had to have been grown in a greenhouse.
“Come on, new girl,” Nolan said, still chuckling. “You’ll get used to all this soon.”
I somehow doubted that.
A lot of the tables were full, and a lot of faces were turned toward us. “Does everyone have the same lunch hour?” I wondered. This school wasn’t particularly huge because, at the end of the day, there were only a small section of the world that could both pass the entrance requirements and afford to send their children here.
“Yep,” Nolan confirmed. “Same start and finish time and same lunch hour. They run the school similar to a work day in the real world.”
“For those of us who’ll work a regular day job,” I said dryly.
“Right,” he added with a laugh. “I’ll probably work twenty-four hours a day, but at least I’ll get a ton of blow jobs as a reward.”
Jesus. More laughter burst from me. “Wow, the crown prince perks are awesome.”
He winked. “You have no idea, new girl.”
By then we’d reached his table, on the far side of the room close to a window. Outside, the world was white, but the sun was out today, casting a magical vibe across the winter wonderland. Nolan didn’t hold the chair out for me, and I appreciated that about him. I handled my own chairs, thank you very much.
“Who taught you?”
Nolan’s question startled me, and I almost ruined my independence by toppling off the velvet-lined, high-back wing chair. “What do you mean?”
His green eyes, so very like his twin’s, were serious as they remained locked on me. “Who taught you to move the way you do? To watch your surroundings like that?”
I swallowed hard because I had a very scary idea of what he was asking me now. This observant, smirking guy was closer than anyone had been to discovering something about me that could spell my death.
“How did you get that wound on your side?” I countered, my chest tight as my heartbeat hammered in my ears.
He fell silent, the openness wiped clean as he adjusted the wine glass in front of him. “Sports injury,” he murmured, and I wondered what sort of “sport” he played to get a wound like that. I mean, soccer wasn’t exactly one where you got a deep cut regularly. A cut from a weapon.
Admittedly, there was nothing illegal about a royal possessing a weapon—after all, the royals were above the law—but it sure as shit begged the question of how he came by an injury from a blade. I somehow doubted he slipped while polishing his ornamental swords.
Me, on the other hand… if anyone found th
e Damascus steel blade concealed in my ratty duffle bag upstairs, I’d be executed without trial. Anti-weapon laws weren’t something that any monarchy fucked around with. If the common people couldn’t fight, they couldn’t rebel.
In fairness to the law, millions of lives could have been saved during the Monarch War had untrained civilians not joined the killing. The people had fucked themselves over in that sense, now it was only logical for monarchies to keep anti-weapon laws in place. Because it made their jobs all a hell of a lot easier. Democracy had gone the way of the dinosaurs, so anyone caught challenging a monarchy was instantly put to death.
The world was overpopulated anyway.
“Don’t,” Nolan said softly, his voice breaking through my troubled thoughts.
“Don’t what?” I replied, taking the printed card from his outstretched hand and finding the day’s menu on it. There was even the date, meaning they printed new ones every day. No wonder paper was such a hot commodity when Arbon Academy was just chewing through it for dumb shit like their lunch menus.
“Don’t go searching for more information. You’ve got this look on your face, and I can’t help thinking you’re going to end up in a world of trouble soon.” His brow creased as he shook his head at me.
I mustered up a fake smile, echoing the one Alex had used earlier. “Why would you think that, Nole? You don’t know me.” I was all innocence, and it churned my stomach. Fuck me, if these royals were into what I thought…
“Not yet,” he conceded, “but you’re so much like Mattie I swear you’re our long-lost triplet. Except for the lack of pigment in this hair, of course.” Nolan reached out and playfully flipped a loose curl away from my face. Fucking curls never did seem to stay put, and I’d totally forgotten to use Mattie’s miracle balm after my shower.
“You don’t need to worry, Nole,” I assured him. “I have no intention of grilling you about your so-called ‘sports injury’ over the lunch table.”
He groaned and scrubbed both hands over his face. “Fuck, new girl, that was worded way too specifically.”