Playboy Princes: Royals of Arbon Academy

by Eve, Jaymin

  “Violence has anger issues,” Nolan added in another unhelpful little tidbit. “She nearly killed her opponent in her last fight.”

  Mattie’s face was now the color of a very ripe tomato, and she kept opening and closing her mouth as she looked between the three of us.

  “Why?” she finally choked out. “You know those fights are resistance led. You know that people die and if any of our parents found out, they would probably disinherit us. Why do you keep doing it?”

  “They’re resistance led?” I cut in before anyone could answer her. “What do you mean?”

  The resistance was like a fairytale wrapped in a nightmare. This group was out there fighting against monarchies, trying to bring some balance back with at least a basic set of rules the royals had to follow as well. Rules to protect the rest of us.

  Everyone who wasn’t royal had high hopes that one day they might succeed. But we’d also heard of their inhumanly violent raids, inflicting torture and attacking innocent children. Their leader was as out of control as any royal. They’d razed entire villages to the ground to maintain control over the few neutral—not under monarch rule—territories that remained.

  Sometimes I was on the side of the royals because at least it was the evil I knew. The other was too unpredictable.

  “Both resistance, regular people, and royals fight,” Nolan reminded his sister. “There’s no evidence that it’s orchestrated by the resistance.” He cleared his throat. “Not that I fight. I’ve actually never heard of it.”

  For the second time in five minutes he got punched. This time by his twin.

  With a sigh, she turned to me. “Please just promise that you’re being safe.”

  Her eyes flicked to Jordan and then back to me. “With everything. Please be safe. And let me know when you need backup, because I will straight up destroy anyone who tries to mess with you.”

  I believed her. Leaning across Jordan, I wrapped my arms around Mattie. “I promise. I’ve been through a ton of shit in my life, and I’m not about to allow Alex or Arbon Academy to take me down.”

  Mattie pushed the pizza box aside so she could shift closer to me. Her palm reader was out in the same instant. “What’s our plan of attack?” she asked, all business. “These assholes can’t be allowed to get away with this. We need to take them down and make it hurt.”

  An image appeared on her palm; it looked like old-school lined paper. Names were written on it: Alex, Claudette, Brandon.

  “Anyone else we need to add?”

  She was serious, and my heart swelled. I’d never had anyone in my corner, not like this. My sensei had guided me, but he’d made me fight my own battles. Always. He’d also come down hard on me when I didn’t live up to his very rigid expectations. It had been the discipline I needed, but it meant that unconditional support was a gift I did not expect. These fuckers were gonna make me cry.

  Discreetly, I cleared my throat and blinked away any moisture that was trying to make an appearance. Crying was not a luxury I allowed myself. At least it hadn’t been before I’d won the princess ballot.

  Mattie noticed, squeezing my hand, and then we were back to planning the demise of three people.

  “Claudette is tricky,” she started.

  “Because of Rafe,” Nolan cut in.

  “Right.” She nodded. “Rafe’s betrothal to her is causing him no shortage of political headaches, and he’s been unable to move his parents on their stance.”

  “It’s not just his parents,” Jordan added. “They’re usually pretty agreeable. It has to be Claudette’s. They’re holding something over King Felipe and Queen Jacinta—something large enough that if Rafe’s parents forced the dissolution of this betrothal, it could upset the political balance in an extreme way.”

  “Does Rafe know what it is?” I asked.

  Nolan and Mattie shook their heads. Jordan did too, but there was a beat of hesitation before he did.

  “Jords?” I pushed, slipping into the nickname zone. “Give me something, America.”

  His eyes darkened, the brown turning into a burnt toffee, delicious and mesmerizing. When he focused on me like this, it was as if no one else in the world existed. And I legit should not be having these dark, sexy thoughts when I’d just found out about Alex and the scale of his betrayal.

  But damn, I was only human.

  “Rafe suspects what it is,” Jordan confirmed, “from some shit Claudette told him when he broke off their betrothal, after you got hurt. She pointed out that if it weren’t for the support of the Britains, Rafe’s parents would not have so much control over former Europe. He thinks it’s because of their warships and satellite technology.”

  “Arghh!” Mattie actually growled. “We should have destroyed that archaic bullshit a long time ago. The Guays’ technology is so much more sophisticated, and thankfully it’s slowly seeping into the rest of the world.”

  “But so many of our royal protocols still work off the original series of satellites—satellites owned and controlled by Britain,” Nolan finished.

  “So, how can we usurp their control over the Swiss province?” Mattie mused. “Without causing an international incident.”

  “You have a way that would cause an incident?” I asked.

  She smiled. “Why, yes. Our technology can obliterate theirs, and I’ve been wanting to do it for so long because they do nothing but abuse their power.”

  “But our parents would kill us, and we’d probably start another World War,” Nolan chimed in, sprawled back on the bed, hands across his flat stomach as his eyes closed.

  There had to be a way. “What if we use your technology but pin it on someone else?”

  Nolan’s eyes were no longer closed. “How could we get close enough to any of the royals to pin it on them?” he asked, leaning forward. “And even if we did, who are we wanting to take down? Alex, right? Violet has the direct path to him as his future wife.”

  “We can’t pin it on a royal,” Mattie reminded him. “It would start the sort of war that none of us need in our lives.”

  “What about the resistance?” I suggested. “Could you dummy up a poor man’s version of your technology and then somehow slip it to them? They might just do our job for us.”

  Mattie looked a little green under her bronze complexion. “With that technology, they could do a hell of a lot more than just take out satellite networks.”

  We all fell silent, trying to think of another solution.

  “We’ll work more on it tomorrow,” Mattie finally said, shutting her palm reader down. “I do think we’re on the right track in destroying Claudette. Discredit her monarchy, break down her betrothal, and strip her of her title. That’s our first aim.”

  “I plan on killing her and Brandon in the end,” I added casually, standing up to slip my sweater on. “So it’s probably a moot point.”

  Mattie didn’t look horrified, and that was why I loved her. “It’s on my list as a possible punishment, but don’t you think there’s just something so delicious about stripping them of everything good in life and making them live like that? Killing them ends the suffering so fast.”

  I blinked at her, a rough chuckle escaping. “You’re evil.”

  She smiled and shrugged.

  Crossing back, I wrapped her up in a tight hug. “I love it. I should just marry you and live at your castle.”

  She hugged me back. “I’d marry the fuck out of you, if that were how you rolled. You could be my sister-in-law, though. That would work.”

  Nolan wrapped his arms around us both. “A plan I would normally get behind, but I’m not competing with Rafe and Jords.”

  “It’s not like that!” I shook my head, shooting a quick, guilty look at Jordan, even as I denied Nolan’s suggestion that I was involved in a love triangle.

  I wasn’t.

  Right?

  Chapter 8

  My plan to exact revenge on Brandon didn’t move very fast. Mostly because the fucker was nowhere to be seen.
I was half-tempted to create an excuse to visit Dean Morgan just so I could suss out where his son was.

  “I think he’s visiting family again,” Mattie said as we walked to the soccer game on Saturday morning. This week had been both hectic and stressful as fuck, but I’d successfully managed to avoid Alex for most of it. I was only going to this game today to support Nolan and Jordan. Otherwise I would be hiding somewhere, figuring out the best places to lure and destroy a few royals. And Brandon. No matter how much he wished it, dude had zero royal blood. He was just a mean spirited bully, and he deserved to be punished.

  “Hi, Violet,” a deep voice said from behind me, stopping me in my tracks. I spun around to see an older but familiar face.

  “Oh, hey!” I said quickly, smoothing my hands down my jeans. “I haven’t seen you in a while. Dean Morgan keeping you busy?”

  Mr. Wainwright smiled, and I was reminded of the first time I’d seen him—in the matron’s office, where my entire life had changed. Was he aware that the ballot was rigged? Had he known what he was dragging me into when he appeared at the orphanage?

  Questions I didn’t have answers to… yet.

  “Yes, he is,” he said, shaking his head. “There is a lot going on behind the scenes at the moment, and the first school dance is in the works. I’ve been conversing with a few of the royal families, and this year we might have some special guests at the spring ball.”

  I quickly shot a look at Mattie, and she rolled her eyes out of Mr. Wainwright’s view.

  Yeah, looked like it was going to be your typical school dance.

  He cleared his throat. “Anyway, I’m glad I caught you. Dean Morgan has requested a progress meeting. He wants to see how you’re settling in.”

  Alarm bells tinkled in my head because the timing of this was very convenient—right after I’d found out about everything and tried to break up with Alex. Maybe they’d noticed I was avoiding him? Or maybe this was about Brandon. Either way, it was a good opportunity to gather some information—and I didn’t even have to create an excuse to do so. It was handed to me like fate was giving me exactly what I wanted.

  “When does he want to see me?” I asked, annoyed that I might miss the soccer game if it was now. Sure, I’d acted like Mattie had to drag me along, but truth be told, I was turning into a secret superfan of this damn sport.

  “Monday morning before class will suffice,” he said. “Just come along whenever you’re dressed and ready. We’ll accommodate you.”

  I swallowed past the lump in my throat. “I’ll be there.”

  He nodded before tipping his head to Mattie. “Greetings, Princess Matisse. Hope you have a wonderful day.”

  He turned and walked away. Mattie didn’t say a word, but the look on her face was one of distaste. “Never trusted him,” she said, slipping her arm through mine. “He’s hiding something for sure. Don’t go to the meeting without me.”

  I shrugged. “I can look after myself.”

  She chuckled before tugging me along. “I know you can, but that’s when someone comes at you face to face. These bastards are sneaky. They’ll never be honorable about it, and you’re so new to this world. It’s backstabbing and deception at every turn. Just… make sure you take me along.”

  “Sure, sounds like a plan,” I said. I felt better knowing she’d be with me.

  We hurried through the academy to the sports arena, and I blinked at the new security detail waiting at the main entrance. Four of them blocked the way, checking every person before they were allowed entry.

  We had our bags searched, a quick pat down, and a guard used a scanner, running it across us to detect… something.

  “Has there been a threat?” Mattie asked the closest guard, a female, probably ten years older than us.

  Her face showed her displeasure at being questioned, especially with the crowd behind us waiting their turn, but she clearly recognized the princess addressing her and thought better of brushing Mattie off.

  “Resistance agents have been seen in the area,” she said, her accent mild. “There was also a bombing in an upmarket German street. Dean Morgan felt it was prudent to incorporate more security for these large events.

  Mattie’s expression didn’t change with this information; she just nodded and murmured, “Thank you,” before she dragged me into the main stadium. We didn’t chat as she used her epic bitch face and some sharp elbows to secure us our usual seats directly behind our home team.

  "So,” I finally whispered. “That was weird. Have you heard anything about the resistance being in the area?”

  She swallowed, moving her head much closer to mine. “My parents sent us coded updates that basically advised the new threat level around Arbon is a three. One is neutral, two is caution, three means there’s legitimate concern.”

  Great. “This isn’t about the fights?”

  She shook her head. “No, definitely not. The fights have been run for years, and nothing weird is happening there, outside of the raids. That side of the resistance is just fun and games; it’s the other side we have to worry about.”

  Like we didn’t have enough to deal with.

  Deciding not to dwell on it now, I turned away from the security still scanning people and out into the stadium. “Whoa.” I surveyed the crowd. “Big turnout today. Who are we playing again?"

  Mattie wrinkled her nose at me. "Damn girl, have you been under a rock lately? We’re playing the Princeton Panthers."

  "Oh." My mouth rounded in surprise. "We’re playing a team from New America?"

  Mattie nodded. "Yep, and there's some bad blood there with Jordan. He was supposed to attend Princeton, you know?"

  I shook my head. "No, I didn't know. What happened? I thought all royals came here to Arbon."

  "Nope." Her gaze was locked on the field, her eyes tracking the opposing team as they warmed up with drills across the field. "Not all of us. Just lots."

  I frowned at her, then followed her line of sight again. She wasn't tracking the team... She was tracking a player.

  "Who's number twelve, Mattie?"

  Her gaze shot to mine, wide-eyed and guilty, while her cheeks stained pink. "Huh? Why would you ask that?"

  I grinned back at her, smug as shit for guessing correctly. "So? Who is he?"

  She cleared her throat and turned her attention back to the field. "No one. Anyway, what was I saying? Right. Jordan. So every other New American heir has actually attended Princeton since like... forever. Since the Monarch War."

  "Right, so literally every New American king?"

  "Exactly. But Jordan and Rafe went to high school together at Arbon Prep and became the best of friends. So Jordan applied to Arbon without his father's approval, then when he was accepted, there was this whole scandal because King Munroe couldn't decline the enrolment without insulting all the other royals attending Arbon. Like he thought his country offered a superior education for his son or something." Mattie spoke at a million miles an hour, like she could make me forget the hot guy she'd been eye-fucking across the field. He was cute, I'd give her that. But I thought Mattie liked her guys with more... vagina?

  "Okay, so if he indirectly said his son was too good for Arbon, he'd have damaged a lot of political alliances?" I double-checked I was understanding Mattie's gossip correctly. "So where did that leave Princeton?"

  Mattie screwed up her face, echoing what I suspected. "Offended as fuck."

  With almost comical timing, shouts came up from the field below us.

  "Oh shit," Mattie cursed, rising slightly out of her seat like she wanted to get down there and intervene. I'd admit, I felt the same way.

  Number twelve for the Princeton Panthers was toe-to-toe with Jordan, his body language aggressive as he snarled something into the New American prince's face. For his part, Jordan looked like he was about to start swinging. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the thick fabric of his goalie gloves only highlighting the gesture.

  "Crap," I muttered, my heart
thundering as Rafe strode across the field to where Jordan and number twelve were arguing. Something about the way the Swiss prince stalked over the grass told me he was going to punch first, ask questions later.

  Mattie grabbed my hand, squeezing my fingers and looking just as worried as I felt. Instinct told me to get down there and punch number twelve myself, regardless of what his deal was. He clearly had issues with Jordan, which meant he had issues with me. Like it or not. But Mattie looked torn.

  "We can't do anything to help," she told me, but I suspected she was also telling herself. "The refs won't let it get out of hand."

  I rolled my eyes, thinking of the fight I'd witnessed during the last soccer game. The one where Alex had taken a swing at Rafe. The referees hadn't been in any hurry to intervene that time.

  Still, before Rafe reached Jordan and number twelve, other members of the Princeton Panthers had already separated the two guys. Two of them were tugging their team member away, creating a buffer zone of their own players to keep him away from Jordan, while another player—number eight—spoke to my friend in a much less aggressive manner.

  "Okay, you're going to need to explain what just happened," I told Mattie with a long exhale.

  She cringed and sighed. "Number twelve? That's Zachary Westbridge." She paused and gave me a meaningful look, like the name was supposed to mean something to me. "Jordan's half brother."

  "What?" I exclaimed, my spine straightening as I halfway jumped out of my seat. “He said he had a sister but made no mention of a brother.”

  Mattie groaned. "I forget how tightly our advisers keep information about heirs under wraps when it's all common knowledge to us. Okay, so, Jordan never talks about it, so swear you won't ask him about it?" I nodded quickly. "Zachary is actually older than Jordan by like... six months? I think?"

  My jaw dropped. "What?! He should be the crown heir then?"

  Mattie gave me a knowing shrug. "Except that he was the byproduct of a super scandalous affair that King Munroe had when he and Queen Diane were going through fertility issues. Zach's mom, Lady Silvia, was six months pregnant when Queen Diane conceived Jordan... so as you can imagine, it became a bit, uh, awkward in the New American court."