by James Tate
I started to laugh but cut off abruptly when the chair beside me scraped out and a large body sat down. Crowding me.
Fuck it all to hell.
“You’re at the wrong table, Cinderella,” Rafe snarled, slouching back in his chair like it was too small for him or some shit. “Prince Charming is over there with his sycophants.” He jerked his head toward the other side of the room where Alex sat, surrounded by gorgeous, preppy students. One button-nosed brunette was batting her lashes at him and talking excitedly about something, but his ocean-blue gaze was locked on me. Or… me and Rafe. His right hand rested on the table, and even from across the room I could tell his fist was clenched so hard his knuckles were white.
“New girl is sitting with us,” Nolan drawled. He looked unconcerned by Rafe’s sneer, but his foot hooked the leg of my chair and pulled me slightly closer to him. Away from Rafe. “Mattie has adopted her as our missing triplet. Even you couldn’t have missed the way they were joined at the hip last night.” There was a strange, teasing note to Nolan’s voice, and Rafe’s dark gaze narrowed in warning.
“Can’t say I was paying attention,” the Swiss crown prince snapped back, picking up the menu card from the table and inspecting it.
Nolan chuckled under his breath. “Sure you weren’t.”
Several more people arrived at the table, none of whom I’d met before, and I shot Nolan a puzzled look. What had that been all about? Was there something going on between Mattie and Rafe? The idea turned my stomach to ice, and I swallowed past the fear of a social faux pas. I’d already made my dislike of Rafe so damn obvious to Mattie, but what if she was secretly hooking up with him?
“Hey girl!” the gorgeous red-head in question sang out, arriving at our table and standing in the gap between my chair and Rafe’s. “I knew Noles would find you. Rafe, can I sit there? Claudette will want to sit with you, anyway.”
Mattie had just tossed the request at the surly prince with such a casual familiarity that it almost confirmed my suspicion. Especially when he did as she asked, getting up and moving to the opposite side of the table where there were still two seats empty.
“Who’s Claudette?” I asked her quietly as she sat down and scooted her chair in closer to me so we could chat. I shouldn’t have been interested. Nothing about Rafe and his arrogant, sexy face should interest me in the least. But if Mattie and Nolan were determined to make me their friend, then I needed to know what was what and who was who. Right?
Mattie gave me a small eye roll and wrinkled her nose. “You’re about to find out.”
A pretty girl with a caramel brown bob arrived at our table, and instead of taking the one empty seat beside Rafe, she proceeded to drape herself all over his back and press a cringe-worthy wet kiss onto his cheek.
Nolan cleared his throat, catching the girl’s attention, and just from that quick look I could tell there was no love lost between the pair of them.
“Claudette Bixel, have you met our new girl? This is Violet Spencer.” Nolan had a barb in his voice as he introduced me, and Claudette just pursed her mouth like she tasted something sour. Nolan continued on, not waiting for her response. “That there is Harriet, beside her is Luca, then Theo.”
I smiled and murmured hello to them all, but just got cold, suspicious stares back.
“Claudette is a princess of the Britains, second in line to the throne” Mattie said under her breath. “She thinks she’s the hottest thing to walk out of England since that sexy prince with the red hair from before the war.”
Ah, the Britains. The territory that had always had a monarchy, even if they had been reduced to more of a figurehead in the century before the Monarch War. And then, obviously, they’d regained their control.
The arrogance oozing from the stunning brunette made sense now.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” I said softly before immediately dropping my gaze to the menu. Pretty much had it memorized by now.
The conversation was stilted at the table, and I knew it was solely because of me. No one could quite figure out how I’d made the cut to sit with the royals, but they were either too polite or didn’t give enough fucks to ask.
The waiter who took our order was in his mid-forties and had a balding head and a very pronounced cleft in his chin. He spoke with a heavy accent, and I could barely understand what he was rattling off about the special of the day. Thankfully there was a grilled chicken and salad on the menu, and with the state of my stomach this morning, that seemed the safest.
“Smart that you’d restrict your calories,” Claudette said to me, from her spot next to Rafe—she was practically in his lap she was so close. The big dude in question wasn’t going out of his way to touch her, but he also wasn’t shoving her aside. Why the fuck was he such a rude bastard to me? No one else seemed to get that treatment, and for some reason I sensed his hatred toward me wasn’t just because of the scholarship thing.
“That was bitchy, Claud,” Mattie shot back before I could open my mouth. “Violet hardly needs to restrict her calories. If anything, we need to fatten our girl up a bit. She’s taken thin to a new level.”
Claudette wrinkled her perfect little nose, perched above the fullest, pinkest lips I’d ever seen. If they were natural, it was definitely worth hating her a little over them. “Is she anorexic then? Or do poor people not have enough food?”
I snorted before shaking my head. She’d made an art form of insulting me with a tone of voice that was as sweet as pie.
Talented bitch.
Knowing it wasn’t smart to insult a powerful heir, I chose to remain silent and hope they all just thought I was mysterious. Mattie didn’t have the same qualms, flipping Claudette off while shooting her a toothy smile. “You’re not welcome here if you talk to my friend like that again,” she said, sounding as super sweet as Claudette had before. That tone must be a royal thing.
The absolute astonishment on bitchy’s face was comical. I don’t think she’d thought, for even a second, that anyone would choose me over her. “You have to be kidding me.”
“We’re not,” Nolan cut in. “So either shut up or fuck off.”
Someone had been looking out for me when they’d sent the twins my way. Thank you, guardian angel.
Claudette turned pleading eyes on Rafe, imploring him to interject in her defense, but he was busy on his palm reader, not even glancing her way. With a huff, she got to her feet, and after one more dramatic pause, flounced off to join another table.
Alex’s table.
I waited for Rafe to lose his shit, because the second I went near the Australasian heir, he seemed to turn his ire in my direction, but he never even spared Claudette a look.
“They’re betrothed,” Mattie said, noticing my confusion. “But it’s not Rafe’s choice.”
The knowledge of that sent some tendrils of unease through my chest. No idea why, because those two were equally unpleasant and their match was probably a well-suited one, but … I didn’t like it. No one should be forced to marry.
“Is that common among the royals?” I asked, gathering as much information as I could. Despite everyone’s insistence that I stay ignorant, I had a feeling that in this school, knowledge was the only thing that was going to save me.
Mattie nodded. “Yep. Marrying for anything other than breeding and political alliance is a rarity. All the glitz and glamor hides a bunch of fucked-up, archaic traditions.”
“Mattie,” Nolan said, warning in his tone.
She rolled her eyes but quickly changed the topic.
“How did you find your first few classes?” she asked, just as the waiters brought out wine for everyone, goblets of water, and the first course of the meal. It was some kind of salad, but there were small white balls and a pink fleshy meat mixed in, neither of which I could identify, so I would be giving that a miss.
“They were very full-on, considering it’s only the first day,” I admitted, moving the salad around so it wasn’t apparent that I wasn’t eat
ing. “I didn’t expect all the subjects to jump in so fast.”
Mattie nodded. “Yeah, the royals get some exemptions, but for everyone else here, it’s the sort of academic schedule that can destroy you if you let it. Don’t fall behind. That’s the most important advice I can give you.”
Great, so much for my free time. I’d be in the library until midnight every night at this rate. I already had at least a few hours of homework, and it was only lunchtime.
Some of the tension that had been around faded as everyone else at the table ate their food and engaged in conversation. Rafe, who I was pretty sure hadn’t even noticed Claudette’s absence yet, remained on his palm reader. His brow was furrowed, and I wondered what was bothering him.
I mean, not that I cared, but there was definitely something upsetting the heir.
For a second, his eyes lifted to meet mine, and something pulsed in the air between us.
For once, he didn’t look like he wanted to murder me in my sleep. I mean, he didn’t look friendly either, but whatever was holding his attention in that palm reader had dulled some of his asshole tendencies toward me.
The waiter distracted me when he took away my untouched salad, replacing it with the chicken and salad I’d ordered for lunch. Throat dry, I grabbed my glass and took a large swallow of water, only to realize it was a crisp dry wine.
Jesus, the last thing I needed was more alcohol, especially when I was going to have to pay attention in class like never before if I didn’t want to fall behind. On the other hand, one glass might make this lunch more manageable.
Another sip, and I turned to the food. I was relieved to see that everything on my plate was recognizable, and it looked delicious. Nolan finished off what I couldn’t, my stomach still tender, and I laughed at his enthusiasm.
“You weren’t kidding about loving lunch,” I said, more chuckles escaping.
He arched a red brow at me with mock indignation. “New girl, you don’t get a chiseled physique like this by picking at salads. Besides, I was in a hurry this morning and missed breakfast.”
“Oh yeah,” Harriet, the mousey brunette beside Mattie commented, “I saw you coming out of Nurse Reller’s clinic before literature this morning.” It was a statement, but the question was implied.
Nolan’s easy smile slipped, and he dabbed at his mouth with a heavily starched, linen napkin. “Yes, nothing serious. Just needed a sports injury checked out.”
Mattie’s head turned to her twin so fast I worried she’d given herself whiplash, and he shot her a guilty look.
“Oh no,” Harriet carried on, her face a picture of concern. “It's nothing that will stop you from playing the first match next week, will it?”
“First match?” I looked to Mattie, but she looked way too pissed off to answer me.
“Season opener against Oxford,” Rafe answered, but for once he wasn’t sneering at me. His attention was all on Nolan. “You should be okay for that, right?”
“Of course,” Nolan replied with a small scowl. “I know how important this game is.”
Rafe stared at him for an intense moment, then nodded sharply and pushed back from the table. “See you guys at practice,” he said to Nolan, Theo, and Luca but stalked away without waiting for their reply.
“Oxford? The heritage university in England?” I raised my brows at Nolan, and he nodded. Even though none of the royals were allowed to play professional sports—for their safety or some crap—the same rules didn’t apply to the students of Oxford. Even I’d heard about their team and how prestigious it was to play for them.
A new addition arrived at the table then. A familiar face. “Jordie!” Nolan shouted, reaching out to smack hands with the handsome royal. I remembered his face clearly from the party, and his tall, striking beauty was even more pronounced in the sunlit dining hall.
Jordan groaned, running a hand through his auburn hair and making hints of red and gold visible in the mostly dark strands. “Yeah, I got stuck on some art project with Mr. Marshall. I’ll just have to get a snack to go.”
Like the waiter had heard that request, he appeared right at the American heir’s side. “Sir,” the man said politely.
Jordan quickly placed an order. It wasn’t for anything on the menu, but that didn’t seem to matter. When the waiter left, I found myself under the intense scrutiny of very dark eyes. At the party they’d looked black, but today I could see the hints of chestnut in his irises.
“This is an unexpected new development,” he said, his lips tilting up just slightly. “What’s your name, Cinderella?”
I wanted to groan at that nickname. Fucking Rafe. That asshole clearly liked to talk about the poor scholarship chick to his friends.
“Violet,” I replied, hoping like hell that Jordan was nicer than his best friend. “Violet Spencer.”
Jordan arched an eyebrow. “You’ve got a royal name; did you know that?”
I just stared at him, wondering if he was for real. “About the only thing even close to being royal in my life,” I replied dryly.
Jordan’s gaze shifted just slightly to Alex, and I realized that I’d barely paid attention to that table all lunch. I turned slightly to find that I was once again locked in a bright blue gaze.
“Not sure that’s quite true,” Jordan murmured, an unknown emotion clouding his features briefly before it was washed away.
Jordan’s food arrived just as the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, and I was grateful to escape. He wasn’t as disconcerting as Rafe, but there was definitely something magnetic about the American royal heir.
My royal heir.
I wondered if that was what made me feel like we had a connection.
Or was it the fact that all the crown princes I’d met were almost too much to handle in close proximity.
If my short time at Arbon had taught me anything, it was how far out of my league I really was here.
And how much trouble I was in.
Chapter 9
“Everything okay with you and Nolan?” I asked Mattie as she walked me to my next class—World Literature.
Even though I didn’t know her well, I could see she was forcing her smile as she replied, “Oh, yeah. Just Nole thinking he’s invincible and ignoring me when I tell him he’s out of his league.”
“The ‘sports injury,’” I said, finger quoting to show that I knew that was a bullshit story.
Mattie snorted softly. “Yep. Dumbass.”
I wanted to push her hard on what was going on, but I still sensed that she wasn’t ready to tell me. I couldn’t risk our friendship. Not yet. But I’d be paying attention because anything to do with weapons…
I needed to know.
Mattie left me at the classroom door, and once she was gone, I hurried across to my desk. This was one of my favorite subjects, and I was excited for the discussion on the text this week. World lit was a subject universally studied—an attempt by the monarchies to unify the world with a shared love of literature. We all knew it was a bullshit smokescreen to cover their rivalries. Monarchies cared about power and money, nothing else, and it was a shitty system because it was an inherited position. So there was no choice for us. No voting. No freedom.
“Hurry, please,” the teacher said. “We have a lot to get through today.”
I was starting to sense a theme in the coursework here: there was lots of it.
Taking a seat in the middle and off to the right side, I tried to ignore the many curious looks shooting my way. I could tell they were wondering how the hell a scholarship student had managed to finagle her way to a royal table.
I was wondering that myself.
“I’m Professor Tulsa, and I’ll be teaching World Literature 101 for your freshman year.”
Forcing myself to pay attention, I noted how young she was for a professor—maybe late thirties—with a severe black bob that sat just above her shoulders, thick dark glasses, and a desperate need for an eyebrow wax. They were so thick and unruly they almost made
it look like she had a second frame around her spectacles.
She cleared her throat, her expression serious as she gestured to the huge stack of thick books piled up on her desk.
“This is your reading list for this year,” she said, and I fought back a groan. It wasn’t that I hated to read, far from it, but I was more into lighthearted fantasy tales. Straight up, I could tell this class was going to be heavy on the classics and light on fun.
Students around me started to note all the books from the visible spines, and I decided to do the same. “Copies are available on your palm readers,” the professor continued, “or you can find paperback copies in the library. I know more than a few of you prefer the archaic way of enjoying your stories.”
Snobby and bad eyebrows. Already she was going on my least favorite teachers list. What she did next would determine how high on that list she rated.
“And to start,” she said, a smile finally gracing her thin lips, “we will have a quiz to determine your current knowledge, or lack thereof, regarding these very important stories that shaped entire generations.”
Okay, it was settled then. The bitch was right at the top.
Fuck my life.
By the time classes had finished, I felt like a wrung-out cloth, limp and half dead. I had an hour until it was time to get to the soccer field to meet Alex, and all I wanted to do was shower and crawl into bed for a billion hours of sleep.
Mattie’s warning about not falling behind urged me toward the library, though, where I proceeded to get through a bunch of my homework before I hastily packed up, needing to sprint to the field to make it on time.
As I left, I noticed the library study desks were packed, and I tried not to panic at how full-on this next four years were going to be. Maybe meeting Mattie wasn’t the best thing that could happen because I clearly had no time for friends.
One good thing about winning the Princess Ballot was the minimal GPA requirement for me to stay at Arbon. I just had to pass. But the competitive part of me wanted to prove that I was as good as the rest of them here, despite my lack of money and royal title.