Kings of Mercia Academy 1-4: The Complete Bully Romance

by Sofia Daniel

  I lowered my gaze to a plate of scrambled eggs and smoked salmon a server had slipped in my place setting. Edward was right, but Charlotte was still up to something, and I didn’t just mean my abduction. She had gained a level of overnight popularity that eclipsed the triumvirate and had managed to convince the boys to pay to attend her party. Would it be full of swingers?

  “All the reason to go after her.” Henry slammed his crystal glass on the table.

  My head snapped up. “You want to capture Carbuncle?”

  “Beat him bloody, but yes, I suppose I’d have to capture him first.”

  Blake clapped his hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’ll be your second.”

  “This isn’t a duel,” snapped Edward. “We’re not—”

  “Overruled,” said Blake.

  Henry folded his arms across his chest and gave Edward a sharp nod.

  Edward turned to me. “Emilia,” he said in weary tones. “Please talk sense into these idiots.”

  “The party is in two weeks,” I said. “By then, I’ll have mostly recovered. If we crash it, we can find out what she’s up to.”

  “We can do that, too,” said Blake.

  Edward’s lips flattened with disapproval. It looked like we would be gatecrashing Charlotte’s party, after all. He pulled himself out of his seat and stood. “Excuse me, Emilia, while I finalize arrangements for the academy’s temporary blood donation center.”

  As he walked out of the room with his back ramrod straight, Blake stared after him with a frown. “What was that all about?”

  “He’s pissed off.” Henry poured himself a cup of tea and raised the pot as though to ask me if I wanted some. When I shook my head, he poured out a cup for Blake.

  “It’s World Blood Donor Day next month.”

  “I don’t follow,” said Blake.

  I reminded Blake and Henry about the penances each of them demanded from me at the start of term. While Blake wanted me to accompany him to Narcotics Anonymous, and Henry asked me to present myself to his parents as his girlfriend, Edward had wanted me to sit next to him in a meeting with the board of governors to present an idea to raise the profile of the academy in the press.

  “I remember that now.” Henry took a slice of toast from the silver rack.

  “That was real?” asked Blake. “I thought he was just trying to get into your knickers.”

  I shook my head and smiled. Hopefully, Edward would join us in London. If there was a chance to hurt Mr. Carbuncle and have him finally thrown into prison, I would take it, even if it meant missing out on uncovering Charlotte’s machinations.

  The party coincided with Elder House’s rugby match against Hawthorn House. We all lounged on the sofas at the front of the common room in protest of Coates ousting Henry as the team’s captain. It had been on the grounds of feeling uncomfortable in the changing rooms with someone so obviously gay. Yeah, as if Henry’s eye would wander to Coates when he roomed with someone as stunning as Blake.

  When the clock struck four, I asked, “What time do they usually come back from a match?”

  “Around now, I suppose,” said Edward.

  “Unless a fight breaks out at the end,” added Henry.

  Blake snickered. “Which happens about half the time.” The common room doors opened, and people streamed in, chatting from the match. “Here they are.”

  I glanced at everyone who entered, noting some scholarship students and several people I’d seen around the house but who largely kept to themselves. None of the rugby players had arrived, and neither had any of their reserves. I leaned into Edward. “Doesn’t everyone usually arrive as a group?”

  “They do.”

  “Then where are Coates, Charlotte, and the other hangers-on?” I asked.

  Henry narrowed his eyes. “You don’t think—”

  “Nobody said the party would take place in the evening.” I pushed down on the armrest as leverage to hoist myself up. The bruises still ached a little and had turned green, but I no longer wore dressings or took painkillers.

  The others stood, and we walked out of the common room, through the hallway, across the entrance hall, and out of the double doors. A warm gust of citrus-scented air hit us from the direction of the magnolias as we walked down the stone steps.

  A squat rugby player limped toward us leaning on a crutch. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood spilled from a head wound that had been wrapped in multiple layers of bandages and stained the front of his shirt. My stomach churned in sympathy for his injuries.

  “Patterson-Bourke,” said Blake.

  The boy’s eyes widened, and he clasped his free hand to his chest with the kind of shocked modesty of a girl finding a weirdo in the locker room.

  “Don’t flatter yourself, you twat,” snapped Henry.

  Patterson-Bourke’s gaze fixed on the one person he probably thought was unlikely to jump his squat, little bones: me. “Wh-what do you want?”

  “Where are Underwood and the others?” asked Edward.

  He flinched, as though the question was the crack of a whip. Still keeping his eyes on me, he said, “They all boarded the coach.”

  “Where’s it going?” I asked.

  “I-I don’t know. Underwood didn’t tell any of us the address. May I go, please?”

  My heart sank. Charlotte had outsmarted me. Again.

  “Come on,” said Edward. “There’s a driveway on the other side of the pitch. Maybe we can find some clues there.”

  We left Patterson-Bourke quaking on the steps of Elder House under his bout of homophobia and headed down the gravel pathway past International House and toward the playing fields.

  “I’m not holding out much hope for finding them,” I muttered. “It looks like she’s thought of everything.”

  Blake stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his jeans and kicked a foot-full of gravel. “Me, neither.”

  “We’ve got to try something,” said Henry.

  I pressed my lips together and continued down the path, flanked by Edward and Blake. Even if Charlotte left behind another invitation to a sex party, it would probably lead us into another ambush, or into the deepest dungeon of the Tower of London or somewhere equally as ridiculous.

  The afternoon sun shone from the direction of the tuck shop, obscuring my view of the path leading to the fields. A lone figure with flame-red hair emerged from the building, holding a stack of papers. From his petite stature, he looked like a fourth year. I couldn’t tell because the sun lit him from the back, obscuring my view of his face.

  As we continued along the path, he froze.

  Edward placed his hand over his brow and squinted. “That’s Blackwell, isn’t it?”

  “Who?” I asked.

  “The four-eyed wanker who hoards all the newspapers,” said Blake.

  “Duncan?”

  “That’s him,” replied Henry.

  I narrowed my eyes. “He told me Charlotte would start a new regime and said lots of other cryptic things about her plans to take over the school.”

  Henry lengthened his strides. In an uncharacteristically cold voice, he said, “Did he really?”

  The red-haired boy turned, dropped his bundle of papers, darted toward the tuck shop, and grabbed a bike. Then he cycled down a path leading toward the playing fields.

  I ran a hand through my hair. “What on earth is he doing?”

  “He knows something!” Henry picked up his pace and raced after him with Edward on his heels.

  I chased after them. Each time my foot landed on the hard gravel, my bruises throbbed as though tiny fists were punching them back to life. I winced and slowed my steps, hoping to lessen the impact. Blake jogged at my side, keeping his gaze on me as though checking that I hadn’t collapsed from the effort. We rounded the tuck shop and entered the playing fields, where the ground was softer underfoot and didn’t hurt so much. Duncan cycled with the speed and proficiency of someone training for Tour de France.

  I turned to Blake and
offered him a smile. “Run ahead with the others if you like. I’m fine.”

  “Not likely,” he replied. “It’s during situations like these that people get snatched. Henry will—”

  Before Blake finished his sentence, Henry leaped through the air and tackled Duncan, bike and all, to the ground. Duncan let out a high pitched shriek.

  I winced and slowed my steps. That looked like it hurt.

  “See?” Blake walked at my side. “What did I tell you?”

  Up ahead, Duncan wriggled out from the wreckage in a strange sort of crab walk, his glasses askew. “S-stay away!”

  Edward stalked toward the retreating boy. “You know something about Charlotte Underwood’s party, don’t you?”

  “I won’t tell!” he shrieked.

  Blake and I caught up with them. As we passed Henry, who was righting the bicycle and checking it for damage, Blake gave him a congratulatory pat on the back. Henry beamed at his friend, but when we locked eyes, his smile faded.

  A wave of regret washed over me. If I hadn’t treated him so harshly, he wouldn’t feel so uncomfortable in my presence. Whereas Blake and I had spent a few days alone in his room, sorting out our differences, I hadn’t taken the time to make the effort with Henry. At some point, after we had dealt with Charlotte and her party, Henry and I would have to kiss and make up.

  I turned to Duncan. “You once said that things would be better under Charlotte’s leadership, but everyone’s gone to her party, and you’ve been left behind with your newspapers. Things haven’t worked out to your benefit at all.”

  Annoyance flickered over Duncan’s face, and he opened his mouth as though to argue but schooled his expression then clicked it shut. He had to know I was right. Last term, he sat with Alice, and this term, he sat alone. Just as things had been at the very beginning when the triumvirate led the academy.

  “She’s organizing an orgy, isn’t she?” I asked. Charlotte wasn’t the most original of people, and her hoax invitation had said it had been a sex party. Why else would the boys pay to attend?

  “H-how did you know?” Duncan squeaked from the ground.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Do the girls know they’re being set up?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not anything as sinister.” He gestured at the triumvirate. “Charlotte said she would give boys the opportunities they missed because of wankers like these.”

  Edward’s brows rose. “Wankers?”

  “You know what I mean,” spat Duncan. “You’re just as bad as Simpson-West, stringing along Alice and Patricia and not caring what it did to their friendship.”

  Edward ran his fingers through his hair. “If I had known they hated sharing, I would have ended things sooner.”

  “Liar!”

  Strangely, I believed Edward. He was more than happy to share me with Blake and Henry. Until the ultimatum, it had probably never occurred to him that Alice and Patricia had accepted crumbs of his affection because they hoped he would one day fall in love with them.

  “You knew about this twisted event and kept quiet?” spat Henry.

  Duncan’s brows drew together. “It’s a wonderful opportunity for the rest of us.”

  “Them, you mean,” drawled Blake. “She left you behind.”

  Duncan’s cheeks turned redder than his hair. His bottom lip trembled with the kind of impotent rage I knew well, and his hands curled into fists. I rubbed a hand over my brow. At the start of last term, Duncan was my ally, and I had firmly believed the triumvirate were wankers.

  I shot Blake an admonishing look. He didn’t have to mock Duncan when we needed his help. “Ignore Simpson-West for a minute. If you paid to attend this party to meet a specific girl you liked, what would you expect from her?”

  “Quite a lot, actually.” Duncan sat cross-legged on the ground and dusted off his long-sleeved T-shirt.

  “Is Charlotte paying the girls to go to this party?” I asked.

  His eyes widened. “N-no… but I expect most will be gentlemen about getting the brush-off.”

  “Patterson-Bourke,” I spat.

  Henry’s brows drew together. “What about him?”

  I ground my teeth and snarled. So much had happened since being abducted by Mr. Carbuncle and Charlotte’s brother that I had forgotten the strange conversation I had overheard in the hallway. The squat rugby player had grabbed a fifth year girl, demanded to know why she had rejected him, and then said something ominous that had triggered me to walk into that trap.

  “Emilia?” Edward tilted his head to the side, staring at me as though I’d had a seizure.

  “He told a younger girl she would change her tune at Underwood’s party,” I spat.

  “I don’t follow,” he replied.

  “Charlotte’s going to do something to the girls to make sure they satisfy the boys who paid to attend her orgy.”

  Chapter 22

  For a moment, everyone went silent as the words soaked in. Even Duncan stared up at me with his jaws slackened. The sun reflected off the lenses of his thick glasses, obscuring most of his expression, but I hoped he realized the need to spill everything he knew about the girls’ whereabouts.

  Henry grabbed Duncan by the collar and pulled him to his feet. “What happens to the girls targeted by those who aren’t gentlemen?”

  “This wasn’t my party,” Duncan squeaked. “Don’t blame me!”

  “Tell us where it is,” I said.

  Duncan’s body went limp, and he stared into the lawn, pressing his lips together as though they might spill the truth. I turned to Edward, then Blake, then Henry, searching their faces for ideas as to why Duncan wouldn’t give us the location of the party. He clearly knew Charlotte’s plans.

  I scratched at my temple. “Why would you be so loyal to someone who left you behind?”

  “Oh, I get it!” Blake wagged his finger at Duncan. “Charlotte was your choice. You’ve already gotten your ‘quite a lot, actually,’ haven’t you?

  His cheeks turned even redder. “A gentleman never tells.”

  “No, but an idiot does,” said Blake.

  Henry punched Duncan in the stomach. I winced and wrapped my hands over my belly. “Sorry, old chap,” said Henry. “This is taking too long. Tell us the location of Charlotte’s party, or I’ll turn you into a smudge on the grass.”

  “Ugh! Alright… alright.” Duncan spat on the grass. “It’s at the London apartment Charlotte’s father owns. The one involved in the expenses scandal.”

  “Do you have the address?”

  He shook his head. “But it will be in one of the Saturday Correspondent articles.”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  Edward pulled out his phone and made his way back to Elder House. “I’ll arrange a car.”

  Following him, I pulled my new smartphone out of my pocket. “I’ll visit the Correspondent’s website.”

  As I clicked through the articles, Blake walked by my side, keeping a hand on the small of my back. Moments later, someone shrieked. I turned around to find Henry carrying a struggling Duncan over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

  “Bringing him along for insurance.”

  The five of us sat in the back seat of the limo. Duncan slouched in the seat opposite, nursing a consolation glass of champagne Edward poured for him.

  I scrolled down the article and found a picture of a four-story townhouse with a bright red door behind a small monkey puzzle tree. “The address is Erasmus Road, London. But it’s a house.”

  “Divided into flats?” asked Henry.

  “Hold on.” I scanned the article, scrolled past a picture of the tenant, a furious-looking Asian man, and found a relevant paragraph. “It says here that it’s a ground-floor, river-front flat within the division bell, whatever that is.”

  Edward pressed the limo’s intercom and repeated the location to the driver, while Henry explained that the division bell was a boundary set by the British parliament to make sure that its members could reach t
he building within eight minutes if the emergency bell was rung.

  Then he leaned back in his seat. “We’ve got an hour and a bit to spare before we break up this party. How are we going to spend it?”

  “Spin the bottle,” said Blake.

  “No!” Duncan hugged his champagne glass to his chest.

  Nobody took any notice of him. I glanced at Henry. Maybe a game might break the ice between us, and make things easier when we had our conversation later in the evening. “I’ve got an idea. It’s more of a contest, really?”

  “I’ll win,” said Blake.

  “Unlikely,” replied Edward.

  “What is it?” asked Henry.

  “Best kisser,” I replied. “I’ll be the judge.”

  “That’s an easy enough victory.” Blake twisted in his seat and pressed his lips onto mine. For a microsecond, my mind went blank. I hadn’t expected the competition to start so soon. Then a thrill coursed through my inside, from core to nipples to the tips of my lips. His tongue swept between my parted lips, tasting of champagne.

  I kissed back, my heart singing with joy. In these past weeks, I’d seen beyond Blake’s beauty and fallen for the protective, loving soul beneath the mask of flirtation and mischief. I slid my hand to his silk-covered, muscled thigh and squeezed.

  Blake hummed his pleasure and deepened the kiss. The arm around my shoulder slid down to my waist and he squeezed, a taste of the delights that awaited me when we returned to Edward’s room.

  When we broke apart for air, we stared into each other’s eyes, both breathing hard. My heart pounded in time with the throbbing between my legs. “That was…”

  “Mediocre.” Edward pulled me onto his lap. “Here’s how to kiss Emilia.”

  I wrapped an arm around his shoulder to steady myself, and pressed my hand on his chest. Edward wrapped an arm around my back, leaned into my neck and gave me a gentle nip that made me squeal.

  “That’s cheating,” muttered Blake.