by James Tate
"Any questions?" she asked, then stalked away before even waiting for me to respond.
"Bitch," I muttered after her, watching as she disappeared down the hall before I entered the small room. "Yay, paperwork." I eyed the thick stack on the desk with apprehension. Then again, she did say it had all the information about my classes and accommodations. It was odd to see so much paper—a luxury item—but I was starting to truly understand that the normal rules I’d lived life with over the last eighteen years were not going to work at Arbon.
They had no rules.
Sighing, I slipped my coat over the back of the chair, sat down, and started leafing through it.
An hour and a half later I was confident about two things. One, I hated my class schedule, and two, no one was coming to show me around.
"Fuck it," I muttered, standing up and stretching. "I'll figure it out myself."
After all, I had just been studying a map of the school for an hour. Surely I could handle finding my room without a student guide.
Slinging my ratty bag strap over my shoulder, I left the little office and headed back down the hall in the direction of the front entrance. According to my map, there should be a staircase to the right, and underneath it...
"Perfect," I whispered to myself, locating the restrooms under the stairs, just as they'd been marked on the map. It'd been a long drive up the mountain from the airstrip, and the last thing I needed to do was pee myself when I bumped into my first actual royal.
After taking care of business, I eyed myself in the gold-framed mirror.
I didn't understand why people kept giving me such disgusted looks. My appearance really wasn't that bad at all, considering the amount of travel I'd just endured. I mean sure, the dark shadows under my eyes could use a bit of concealer, and my hair...
Alright. Maybe they had a point.
"Christ on a cracker," I groaned, tugging my hair tie out and running my fingers through the wild blonde mess. "I'd have had better luck sticking my finger in a power socket."
A small laugh startled me, and I turned to look at the pretty redhead who'd just entered the bathrooms so freaking quietly I spared a moment to wonder if I was imagining things.
"Here," she said, digging through her designer handbag, then passing me a tube of product. I eyed it warily, but she just laughed, coming closer to where I stood in front of the mirror. "Just trust me." She rolled her eyes, but smiled.
Still cautious—because so far my reception at Arbon Academy had been less than welcoming—I took the tube of product and peered at the label. All it had on it, though, was some fancy holographic logo and the words "Miracle Balm."
"Miracle, huh?" I murmured.
The redhead arched a sassy brow at me. "You kinda need a miracle for all of that." She indicated to my frizzed-out Sasquatch hair, and I cringed.
She laughed, then headed into a cubicle while I squeezed out a small amount into my hand and went to work smoothing it through my tangled mess of hair. By the time I was finished—after having to squeeze out more product three times—I had to hand it to the girl. It really was a miracle balm.
"Thanks," I said after she finished washing her hands, holding the tube out to her. "You probably saved me some seriously shitty first impressions."
As I said that, I took a better look at her, and my stomach sank. She was gorgeous, perfectly dressed, not a hair out of place—probably thanks to her miracle balm—and holding a black leather handbag that no doubt cost more than an entire year’s rent back home. Chances were, this chick was one of the school bullies.
Contrary to my morbid thoughts, she gave me a genuine smile and shook her head. "Keep it. You need it more than me today." She picked up a plush white hand towel to dry her hands, then tossed it in a little laundry basket. "You must be the new student."
I gave a small nod. I guess it was pretty obvious just by looking at me. "Violet," I introduced myself.
"I'm Mattie," she replied. "Good luck for your first day."
She didn't hang around for any more chitchat, but she also didn't sneer or call me names, so that had to be a win. Right?
With a sigh, I ran a hand through my now tangle-free, silky hair.
"You really are miracle balm," I told the tube of product in my hand and tucked it into my bag before leaving the bathrooms in search of my room.
As it turned out, the map really didn't give me the full scale of the school-within-a-castle. The place was freaking huge, and some twenty minutes later I still hadn’t located the girls wing.
Voices, cheering, and the distinctive sound of a ball hitting a wall reached my ears as I wandered down yet another endless corridor, and I paused, checking my map.
“Indoor sports center,” I read from the page, and my mood lifted. When I’d seen all the snow, I’d worried we would be cooped up indoors for half the year, but of course Arbon Academy thought of that. I dropped my bag beside the doors, then slipped into the sports center as quietly as I could.
Nothing could have prepared me for what was behind those doors. It was practically an indoor stadium, complete with tiered seating and a full-sized, floodlit soccer field.
No prizes for guessing what the school's sport of choice was. If the million-dollar—or more—indoor field wasn't a dead giveaway, the athletic, sweaty boys engaged in what appeared to be a very serious game would have been. Or maybe it was the crowd of girls cheering on the sidelines.
I made my way farther into the arena, my gaze sweeping over all the features of the place, wondering if they catered to all sports and activities or just soccer. I really hoped they had some solid gym equipment or even just a running track indoors; otherwise I’d have to invest in some warmer workout clothes.
Invest with what money, though?
“Watch out!”
The warning came just a millisecond before a high-speed soccer ball damn near flattened my face, but thankfully that was all the time I needed. My hands flew up, instincts working faster than my brain, and I caught the ball just inches from my nose.
“Holy shit,” someone exclaimed from the soccer field, but I didn’t notice who’d spoken. Every boy on the synthetic field stared at me as I scowled back at them.
“Thanks for the warning,” I snapped, sarcastic as fuck as I flexed my fingers against the ball.
A blond guy jogged over to me, running his hand through his shaggy hair and offering me a sheepish smile. Holy crap, scratch that, a seriously gorgeous blond guy with blue eyes that were the exact color of the ocean. Or what I imagined the ocean looked like, anyway.
“We’re so sorry,” he apologized as he drew closer to me. “Some guys just have zero control over the ball when they see pretty girls wandering into the arena.” His voice held an accent that hinted at somewhere exotic, not the Swiss I’d heard so far, but a drawl that tingled down my spine, and I found myself eager to hear more.
“Fuck you, Alex,” one of the other boys spat, and I arched a brow in curiosity. That was no good-natured ribbing between friends. The guy who’d spoken—tall with dark hair, a dark T-shirt, and an even darker glare—must have been the one who’d kicked a ball at my face. “Get the ball and get back on the field. We don’t have all day for you to chat up the charity case.”
My stomach lurched, and my eyes narrowed in a scowl. Apparently everyone already knew who I was. So much for good first impressions.
“No worries,” I muttered in reply to the blond boy, holding out the ball for him to take. When he did, our fingers brushed, and if I was more of a hopeless romantic, I’d have said sparks flew. Whatever it was, my stomach fluttered and my cheeks heated under his intense sapphire gaze.
He shook his head dismissively. “Ignore him, he’s just butthurt that his team is losing the match.” His grin was all mischief, and I needed to blink a couple of times just to make sure I wasn’t staring like a loon. “I’m Alex, by the way.” He shifted the ball to one hand, then offered the other for me to shake. “You’re Violet, right?”
&n
bsp; I cringed slightly, still feeling the dark-haired boy glaring at me like I was a fucking trespasser. “Yup, that’s me. I guess the whole school already knows who I am, huh?” I took his hand, though, and tried not to focus on how nice his grip was. Not too firm, like he was trying to prove his masculinity, but not so weak that he was automatically assuming I was a fragile flower. Despite my name.
Alex gave a small shrug. “Not hard to guess.” His hand left mine, and I was pretty sure I imagined the way his fingers lingered a little on my inner wrist. “How are you settling in?”
“Uh…” My brows shot up. “Well, I pretty much just got here. Someone was supposed to show me around, but they never showed so…” I bit my tongue, mentally chastising myself for immediately leaping into complaining. I was lucky to be at Arbon Academy. It was my one chance at a better life. If that meant being a social outcast for a few years, well then tough shit. I cleared my throat as Alex continued to stare at me. “So, I’m still finding my feet.”
Embarrassed now, I dodged his piercing gaze and looked past him to where the rest of the soccer players stood around chatting and laughing, but the tall, angry guy still had his gaze on us. Glaring. Hostile.
Who the fuck pissed in his cornflakes this morning?
“That’s shitty,” Alex commented, not seeming to notice how my attention had wavered. “You’ll probably get a lot of that, though. Not many of these pretentious rich kids are accepting of the, ah, lottery winners.” He had the grace to look a little apologetic, but he had no reason to. He’d been perfectly nice so far.
I shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me. I’m here to get an education, not make friends.”
For some reason, Alex found this funny and started laughing. I didn’t fully get why that was amusing but kind of loved the sound of his laugh. Damn, was it that time of the month already? I was never usually so hormonal.
Yeah, that was totally code for horny. But what the hell? Alex was fucking gorgeous and seemed—I think—interested in me?
"Okay well..." I shifted my feet, feeling a bit awkward that I didn't get the joke. "I should find my room. It was nice meeting you, Alex."
I started to turn away, even as some of the other boys started calling out to him to hurry up, but he caught the sleeve of my borrowed jacket to halt me.
"Hold up, Violet." He totally ignored the yells of his friends and focused his attention fully on me. On all of me. His blue gaze ran up and down my body in a way that was definitely not friendly-stranger level, then he beamed a shiny, white-toothed grin. "There's a bit of a party happening tonight. You should come."
I blinked at him a couple of times, but when he didn't elaborate, I smiled awkwardly. "A party on a Monday night? You rich kids really don't have any rules, huh?"
He laughed, but the humor didn't touch his eyes and I immediately regretted my comment.
"So, will you come? I'd like to get to know you better." He pushed for an answer, and I bit the edge of my lip, nervous. What if this was a new kid hazing thing? Trick me into leaving school grounds then call the Dean? But then again, this was a university not high school, and these were royals not orphans. Maybe different rules really did apply? There had been no mention of a curfew in the intro pack I'd been given.
"I guess," I replied when the silence stretched into uncomfortable and I had no better response. "Where and when?"
Alex flashed me another blinding smile. "Don't even worry about it, Violet. I'll come to your room."
"Alex!" The angry, stunning, dark-haired guy roared, stalking across the synthetic grass toward us. He—and the other boys—were clearly sick of standing around waiting for our conversation to finish.
"I should go," I said quickly, giving Alex an apologetic look.
He rolled his eyes at the other guy, who'd almost reached us, then shot me a small nod. "See you later, Violet."
I started making my way back out of the sports center, but the other guy didn't even bother to lower his voice as he made his feelings about the school’s charity case perfectly clear.
"That's seriously scraping the barrel, Alex," he sneered to the beautiful blond boy. "Then again, we shouldn't expect anything less from you."
"She was already wearing a man's coat," someone else added with a nasty snicker, "so she clearly puts out. Five hundred says Alex gets his dick sucked tonight."
More laughter joined in, and my whole face burned with embarrassment as I stalked away. I refused to walk any faster, though. Refused to let them see they'd gotten to me.
"Double it and I'll take that bet," the first, gorgeously angry one replied. "She looks frigid as fuck."
For some reason, hearing them betting on whether I'd put out or not boiled my anger just a little too far, and I paused, my head whipping around to glare. No one was watching me, though, as Alex slammed his fist straight into the brunet guy's face.
He'd hit him totally without warning, and the guy staggered back—mostly in shock, from what I could tell. He was huge, muscled and strong, and Alex clearly had no idea how to throw a punch.
Still, it didn’t matter when the intent to hurt was there.
“Shut your filthy mouth, Rafe,” Alex spat at him, pointing with a threatening finger. “That’s my future wife you’re trashing.”
The taller guy—Rafe—didn’t seem to give two fucks about Alex’s words, though. His face twisted in murderous rage, and he flew at the blond boy with frightening violence. A split second later, they were surrounded by jeering guys, all sweaty and dirty from the game that I'd interrupted. Meanwhile I just stood there with my mouth hanging open.
"Don't even stress it," someone said from nearby, and I was startled to see the same girl from the bathroom. Mattie. "Those two will fight over who'd breathe more air if they could." She gave me a shrug, then made her way around the brawl to where all the other shiny girls were basically drooling over the action.
Stunned, I just shook my head and exited the arena.
Quietly, though, Alex's words after he'd thrown that punch warmed me all the way through. He'd been joking, obviously, but it still gave me butterflies to imagine what my life might be like if I were dating a guy like him.
Chapter 4
By the time I’d finally found my room—after a quick detour to the kitchens for some lunch—I was wrecked. My whole life had been uprooted; I'd stuffed everything I owned into one crappy little bag, been flown half way across the world, and arrived at my new home in an honest-to-god castle. My brain was officially short-circuiting.
On the upside, I had a private room and bathroom. Scratch that, I had a freaking suite.
Apparently nothing was too good for the children of our world leaders, and I benefited from their expensive tastes.
The enormous bed against one wall was big enough to sleep about six kids from my group home, and the whole room could have held twenty of the narrow cots we'd slept in. My investigation revealed an attached bathroom with a toilet, shower, and bathtub, as well as a huge walk-in closet fully stocked with clothing in my size.
"This is..." I stood in the middle of the cushy carpet and looked around me with awe. "Insane."
Since I'd already missed half the day's classes, I wrote off the rest of the day and went to explore that bathtub that screamed my name.
As it turned out, the scented bubbles I poured in were more relaxing than anticipated, and when I woke up some time later, the water was cool and my skin was all wrinkly.
"Gross," I muttered to myself, yawning then climbing out with a shiver. I hated the feeling of pruned-up fingers. They reminded me of the nights I'd slept on the streets, my clothes soaked by rain and being too cold to take the sopping fabric off.
A quick hot shower warmed me up and gave me a chance to wash my hair properly. Maybe if I had enough time before Alex arrived, I could straighten it or something. Not that I'd ever attempted it myself—because I was poor as shit—but I'd seen the appliance under the vanity and knew all about it from old movies.
For the first
time ever, I had time and the equipment to be a normal young adult. Hair and makeup. Picking out clothes to wear rather than just grabbing whatever ragged items were cleanest that day.
Fuck, if this first day was any indication, even with classes and homework, I would have a ton more free time than usual. Back home we had work and chores and school, and I had a few other extracurricular activities I liked to participate in. Activities I seriously doubted I’d be able to continue now. It sucked that I’d have to put that part of my life on hold for the next few years, but it would be worth it if Arbon Academy changed my circumstances. And not by marrying a fucking prince.
Towel wrapped tightly around me, I hurried to the paperwork I’d left there, wondering if there was any indication of who the crown royals were. I needed to know and avoid them at all costs. Royals in general were assholes, a universally accepted truth, and crown royals even worse. They knew one day they would rule the world, or at least their corner of it, and from this, pure arrogance bloomed.
I had no time for that.
What about Alex?
Fuck, I wished I could stop thinking about him. I assumed he wasn’t a royal. No royal would be that friendly. With that logic, the dark-haired asshole was almost certainly from a royal family. He bled superiority, and his mere presence was so commanding that even now I couldn’t get him out of my mind—for different reasons than Alex, but he was there. He’d made an impression.
Flicking through the thick tome’s worth of paper, I knew it was impossible for me to read this in the short time I had to get ready, especially when I had to learn how to be girly. My friend Meredith always made it look effortless, but something told me that was years of practice in the making. I missed her already. She’d be beside herself over this place, and she’d have us decked out like we were the royals.
I really needed a friend like her here, someone to give me the condensed version of who was royal, who was the queen bitch—because there always was one—and who was safe to co-exist near. I wanted to know which guys were assholes and which ones were only interested in screwing around.
