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

by Sofia Daniel

  Mom clapped both hands over her face. “No… No!”

  “I’m very sorry,” said the paramedic.

  “Can I see him?” she asked.

  “Yes… Of course.”

  When we left Mom’s suite, police, paramedics, and hotel staff still occupied the hallways. Mom intertwined her fingers with mine, and we walked together with Edward, Henry, and Blake at our backs. My heart beat a steady thrum, and I kept my breaths even. My mind couldn’t decipher whether the situation was fortunate or fucked-up.

  Rudolph Trommel was dead.

  Beaten to death by Mr. Carbuncle.

  I’d have thought that with Rudolph gone and Mr. Carbuncle finally arrested, my heart would soar and steps would lighten. But guilt roiled through my stomach, filled my chest and made the back of my throat ache as though I had spent the entire night screaming. Rudolph had suffered a brutal death, and it was entirely my fault.

  My gaze darted to Mom, and I gulped. How would she react if she knew I had been the reason why Mr. Carbuncle had come to Elfwynn House? Would she understand, or would she believe I was as twisted as Rudolph had suggested in the limo?

  The policeman outside the door to Rudolph’s second room opened the door. Rudolph lay on top of the bed with his satin rob splayed open. Someone had kindly placed a towel over his genitals, but a plastic breathing tube remained in his mouth.

  Mom clapped her hand over her chest and gasped. “I didn’t think he would look so bad.”

  “Mr. Carbuncle wouldn’t stop hitting him,” I whispered. “Then, three of the bodyguards jumped Mr. Carbuncle, and a fight broke out on top of Rudolph.”

  She pressed her lips together. Eventually, she spoke to the corpse on the bed. “That must have really hurt… Just like when Mr. Carbuncle abducted Emilia.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the boys, who exchanged puzzled looks.

  “We’ll never go on that honeymoon you wanted to Bora Bora.” Mom shook her head, voice choked. “Emilia won’t get the chance to see your doctor associate in Moldova, but I’ll make sure she gets that Ivy League education you promised, the internship, and the job.”

  I bit down on my lip. It almost sounded like she was gloating.

  Her lips curled into a smile. “Goodbye, Rudolph. My daughter and I will take good care of your empire.” She turned to us, eyes bright. “Have you eaten? The room service menu here is excellent.”

  On Monday morning, we staggered into the dining hall, red-eyed and delicate from spending Saturday night and the whole of Sunday at a suite in Elfwynn House. According to the boys, Edward’s room was a mess of plaster from the shooting, and a team of maintenance staff would need a day to patch it up. After having alcohol with every meal, including breakfast, and finishing off the evening with champagne and cigars that Rudolph had bought for a thousand dollars apiece, I was ready for an English breakfast with lots of tea.

  As we took our seats, Mr. Weaver crossed the room and stood at the dais. Next to him was Dr. Asgard and a nurse from yesterday’s blood drive. “Good morning, Elder House. It’s with a heavy heart that I announce that your housemaster was shot on Saturday and is in critical condition at West Mercia Hospital.”

  My shoulders drooped, and a pang of sadness filled my chest. The one time Mr. Jenkins had tried to stand up to someone in the wrong, he had received a gunshot wound. If he ever returned to teaching, he would become more reclusive than ever.

  The Chairman of the Board of Governors cleared his throat. “I am impressed with the number of people who donated blood, but I have delicate news related to the endeavor. Dr. Asgard, if you please.”

  The doctor stepped forward, clasping his hands over his stomach. “As many of you are aware, we took samples from each person who donated blood, and these samples underwent screening for infections, antibodies, and viral markers.”

  Silence spread through the dining hall. I leaned forward, trying to anticipate the nature of this delicate news.

  Doctor Asgard cleared his throat. “A significant number of donors tested positive for strains of syphilis.”

  I cringed. Chatters broke out across the tables. Someone at the back of the room dropped a plate.

  The doctor raised his palms. “There’s no cause for alarm. It’s perfectly treatable with penicillin injections, but I must reiterate the importance of practicing safe sex.”

  “Abstinence,” said Mr. Weaver. “Sexual activity is against the regulations of Mercia Academy for this very reason.”

  The academy medic rubbed the back of his neck. “From our analysis, it appears that the condition was spread by one individual.”

  A few girls shot Blake dirty looks, but he stared ahead, unaffected.

  “To safeguard the privacy of those who tested positive, we have placed envelopes in everyone’s mailboxes. Those who tested negative or didn’t donate blood will find blank sheets of paper instead of test results.”

  Everyone rushed to the entrance hall. A tiny voice in the back of my head wondered if I had caught anything from Mr. Carbuncle. I’d been unconscious in his presence twice, and although both times I had awoken wearing my jeans, it didn’t guarantee that he hadn’t done anything nefarious.

  I reached into my mailbox and pulled out a white envelope. All around me, people were doing the same, so I retreated to the fireplace and pulled up the flap.

  Rita walked up to me, her face pale. “A-are you alright? I can’t face looking at mine.”

  “Let’s swap, then.” I gave her a smile. It looked like the boy she had been visiting in Hawthorn House was her boyfriend, after all. “I’ll open yours if you open mine.”

  With a nod, we exchanged envelopes. I tore Rita’s open and pulled out the sheet of paper. Hers was blank. She handed me mine, which was also blank.

  Her posture slumped. “That’s a relief.”

  My gaze traveled to Henry, who held up a blank piece of paper, and then to Edward, who did the same. At the far right of the room, Blake brandished his blank sheet. “See?” Blake told no one in particular. “It wasn’t me who spread the syphilis. Look somewhere else.”

  A group of boys huddled in the corner. Coates, Bierson, and Patterson-Bourke from the rugby team. Among them were other rugby players, a few boys I’d never really spoken to, and Duncan, the scrawny boy with thick glasses who subscribed to every newspaper.

  In the middle of the huddle of boys stood a pale-faced Charlotte.

  Blake strolled up to us at the fireplace, mischief shining in his chocolate-brown eyes. “This will be interesting.”

  “What?”

  He turned me to the door, where boys from Hawthorn house walked into the entrance hall, many of them holding letters instead of blank pieces of paper. They all glowered in the direction of Charlotte.

  I shook my head. “She couldn’t have—”

  “It looks like she did,” said Blake.

  “What’s going on?” asked Rita.

  I grimaced. “Do you remember how Charlotte returned with sudden popularity and a nose job? That’s how she gained so many allies so quickly.”

  Blake rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel bad about broadcasting that blowjob video. It contributed to both her popularity and the degradation of the academy’s genito-urinary health.”

  “I doubt it would have made a difference to that rabble.” Edward leaned against the fireplace’s marble surround.

  Henry shook his head. “They’ll tear her apart.”

  “Where is she?” Alice led a group of girls, including Patricia, Wendy, and a bunch of others who I recognized from the disastrous booze cruise.

  “Actually,” drawled Blake. “It looks like the girls will get there first.”

  Epilogue

  The limo pulled out in front of the main building of Mercia Academy, and Mom and I stepped out to a riot of paparazzi. Mr. Carbuncle’s murder trial started the next morning, and the press had followed our every move since we had arrived in Mom’s new private jet.

  I wore my usual blazer but
with one difference. A tiny prefect pin to match Edward’s. The board of governors had been so impressed with the positive press generated by the blood drive, that they decided I would be a perfect replacement when they expelled Charlotte for spreading a particularly resistant form of syphilis.

  Mom towered over me in her Louboutins, their red soles the only flash of color in her outfit. She wore a black, one-button tuxedo jacket with matching cigarette pants that lengthened her already long legs.

  “Work hard this year.” She wrapped her arms around me. “And try not to get distracted from your studies.”

  “You too.” I gave her a peck on the cheek and whispered, “Say hi to Bruno, Dimitri, and Maurice.”

  Her lips pressed together in a thin line, but the roundness of her cheeks told me she was trying not to laugh. Ever since the boys and I had vacationed with her in Bora Bora, she had been determined to gather her own ‘harem of hunks’ to act as personal assistants and bodyguards.

  She drew back. “If you need anything, send me a text.”

  “I will.”

  Once Mom stepped back into the limo, the reporters rushed toward their vehicles, presumably to follow Mom to London, where the trial was due to start at the Old Bailey.

  The academy’s stone-fronted building was no longer as imposing as I had found it on my first day. With a smile, I ascended the stone steps, pushed open the mahogany door, and stepped into the marble hallway. The vast space stretched out in front of me, and I headed toward the middle of the building.

  A mixture of former headmasters and Mercia ancestors stared down at me through gold-framed portraits, giving me a warm feeling of belonging. I had survived my first year in a British boarding school, which was more than I could say about Rudolph.

  I took the rounding, twisting staircase to the first floor, just as I had on my first day. When I rounded a corner, Blake, Edward, and Henry stood at the top of the flight. My mouth went dry, and butterflies caressed the lining of my stomach. Even though I’d dated them for nearly a year, seeing them together still made my heart skitter in time with the pulse between my legs.

  Blake stood on the left, his full lips curling into a smile that made me lick my lips. Mischief sparkled in his chocolate-brown eyes, and I couldn’t help the tiny shiver of anticipation that skittered down my spine.

  Edward gazed down at me with warm, sapphire eyes that reflected the depth of his affection and caused my heart to swell with love. The bullet wound on his bicep had healed entirely, leaving a scar that would fade in time.

  Henry stood on the right, his blond hair curling around his face like a gilded frame. My gaze roved down from his startling green eyes to his kissable lips, and down to his powerful, muscular body that was encased in tight, rugby whites.

  My tongue darted out to lick my lips, and I had to clench my hands by my sides to keep from groping him in the stairwell. “Why aren’t you in your uniform?”

  “It’s customary for the sports teams to wear their kit on the first assembly. By the way, Mr. Ellis saw our abysmal final tern results, and he’s made me the captain.”

  Pride swelled in my chest. Everything was back to normal.

  Blake gave Henry a playful nudge in the ribs. “Getting the St. Mary’s sports scholarship also didn’t hurt.”

  I gasped. “You got in?”

  Henry flushed and raked a hand through his blond curls. “Father’s furious that I’ve ditched retail for a life of professional rugby.”

  “Congratulations!” I hurried up the stairs and wrapped my arms around his neck. Henry’s mint and citrus scent engulfed my senses, turning my bones to jelly. He was his own man now, and Mr. Bourneville was the one begging him to return to the fold.

  Edward clapped Henry on the back. “This calls for a celebration.”

  “Your place?” asked Blake.

  “Father’s got guests tonight,” replied Edward. “I’d suggest the cottage, but Mrs. Carbuncle is still in residence.”

  I drew back from Henry’s embrace. “How about Elfwynn House?”

  “Sounds like a plan!” said Blake.

  Someone cleared their throat. Mr. Weaver stood behind the boys with his arms folded across his chest. He wore black, academic robes over his usual suit, with a sash emblazoning the Mercia crest, indicating that his position of acting headmaster was now permanent.

  Blake stepped aside, and the older man passed us down the stairs, but at the bottom, he turned around.

  “Hurry along, Mr. Mercia and Miss Hobbs,” said Mr. Weaver. “I need you both in place at the assembly hall for the announcement of head boy and girl.”

  My eyes widened, and a shocked breath whooshed out of my lungs. I glanced at Edward, whose lips curled into a satisfied smile.

  “Of course, sir.” Edward descended a few steps and offered me his arm.

  I followed after him and looped my arm around Edward’s.

  We walked out of the stairwell and into the hallway, and I replayed the new headmaster’s words. I completely understood the Board of Governor’s choice of head boy. Edward had always been concerned about the reputation of the academy, and he was a direct descendant of its founder. But me? I’d only been studying here for a year.

  Mr. Weaver pushed open the double doors, and we all stepped out into the September day. A lemon-scented breeze meandered in from the magnolia trees on the far right of the lawn, whose leaves had turned a dazzling mix of ambers and golds over the fall.

  We strode across the lawn to the assembly hall, which stood proudly on the left of the campus, a stone building whose entrance consisted of columns holding up a triangular pediment, much like the Pantheon in Rome. Blake walked on my left, Edward on my right, and Henry on the far right of our procession.

  I leaned into Edward and whispered, “Did you know I’d become the head girl?”

  “Didn’t you ever wonder why I brought you to all those board of governors’ meetings?” he murmured back.

  “For moral support?”

  “And with a view of having you at my side when I performed my head boy duties.”

  “Otherwise it would have been Charlotte or someone equally as ghastly,” muttered Blake from my other side. “The academy is better with you at the reigns.”

  A mixture of joy and pride swelled in my heart. This time last year, I had joined Mercia Academy as the outcast—a foreigner who couldn’t fit in and was hated for being a trollop. Now things were different. My ivy league education was guaranteed, and now I’d been awarded the highest accolade in Mercia Academy.

  Not only was I surviving my time at a British boarding school, but I was also thriving.

  And best of all, I had three beautiful boyfriends who loved me as much as I loved them.

  END

  BONUS STORY

  From Sofia Daniel

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  Cruel Games (Knights of Templar Academy)

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