Cruel King: A Royal Elite Book

by Kent, Rina

  “Tell me, princess, is your sense of justice more important than everything else?”

  I lift my chin. “Of course.”

  The unnerving silence returns as he measures me from the top of my head to my shoes. It’s not in a sexual way, though. He’s like some hitman assessing which way will kill me faster and with less hassle.

  When he meets my eyes again, they’re darker than a few seconds ago.

  Black.

  Lethal.

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Dread tightens my stomach. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means…” He taps my nose twice with an easy smile that would’ve made him appear welcoming if I didn’t already know that a devil lurks inside him.

  “Break or I’ll do it for you, princess.”

  9

  Levi

  You were caught in a crossfire where I could only win.

  * * *

  “Do you know what happened?”

  I stop at the foot of the stairs and smooth my RES’s jacket. And by smooth, I mean, unbuttoning the shit out of it and making myself look like the school’s charity case.

  The sound of Uncle’s voice puts me in a sullen mood. Shouldn’t he be already out to ruin some lives?

  “Tell me, Aiden.”

  “Yeah, tell him, Cousin.” I breeze into the kitchen and straight to the refrigerator, not sparing either of them a glance.

  “Morning to you as well, punk.” Uncle shoots the words like rapid fire.

  I grab a bottle of milk and don’t bother with a glass as I gulp half of it down. The cold liquid soothes my throat after drinking last night.

  We have a dining room down the hall, but we don’t bother using it for meals. It’s only a place for Uncle’s gatherings where he can show off his wealth.

  Once I swallow, I wipe the side of my mouth and lean against the marble counter, facing Jonathan and Aiden. They sit side by side at the kitchen bar.

  Looks-wise, Aiden is a carbon copy of his father. He shares his jet black hair and the emotionless dark grey eyes — the King’s signature. Mine came out light and wrong because of Mum’s genes.

  A chessboard sits between them made of crystal glass and black stones. Only a few moves were made. They’re probably picking up an old game. Jonathan and Aiden take weeks to finish a chess game.

  Normal families speak about their day. Ours is all about fucking each other over in a chessboard war.

  “So what are we talking about this morning?” I tilt my head. “Aside from the usual banter of screwing my life, I mean.”

  Jonathan pushes the plate of scones away as if my mere presence spoilt his food. “You’re screwing your own life. If you choose to be nothing, you’ll be nothing, Levi. How about you be something different for a change?”

  “Do say what something means in your definition, Jonathan. Spoiler alert. If that includes following your steps, then I’ll pass.”

  “You’ll lose the attitude in front of me.” His eyes darken and so does his voice. “I raised you when your mother threw you at your father’s feet. I continued to raise you when your father couldn’t.”

  My grip tightens around the bottle of milk until it almost cracks. Still, I keep the carefree tone. “If by raising me, you mean, you spent money on me, then no thanks to you. My father was a King, too.”

  “A useless one at that.” Jonathan deadpans as if he’s talking about a pet he disliked instead of his flesh and blood. “This family doesn’t need worthless members. If you use the King’s name, then give back what you use.”

  “Such as?” I tilt my head.

  He mirrors the gesture. “Study at Oxford.”

  “Pass,” I say as nonchalantly as I can and take another swig of milk.

  Aiden shakes his head, shooting me a disapproving glance, then he goes back to cutting and eating his bacon as if he’s all alone in the kitchen.

  Screw him and his father.

  Jonathan stands and buttons his pressed, dark blue jacket. “Our deal still stands, Levi. If you screw up one more time, your trust fund will be suspended until you’re twenty-five — as per your father’s will.”

  “A will you forced him to write.”

  “You’re lucky I had him leave you something in his state. Do you think he cared about you or your future?” He pauses for a beat.

  Another intimidation method that he taught us. Silence always gets you what you want, he used to say. People are always compelled to fill the silence and it can be used to your advantage.

  “Having me as your guardian is the best thing that happened in your life, punk. You’ll bend to me.”

  I meet his harsh stare with my own. “A king doesn’t bend.”

  “One without a crown does.”

  And then he’s striding out of the kitchen like he already owns half the world and plans to conquer the other half.

  I slam the bottle of milk against the counter and droplets scatter all around. With a long breath, I close my eyes to reign in the onslaught of sweeping anger rolling inside me.

  A year.

  I need shit to stay together until graduation, then I’m leaving Jonathan’s kingdom once and for all.

  “You’re doing it all wrong.” Aiden places his empty plate on the sink beside me. “You think you can take him, but you can’t.”

  “Want to bet?”

  “I don’t make unprofitable bets.”

  He perches over, staring at the board. Jonathan blocked Aiden’s knights, and any moves he makes will cost him either his rook or his bishop.

  Typical Uncle. He always starts by making you lose your strongest defences.

  “Careful there, Cousin.” I raise an eyebrow. “You’re underestimating me.”

  “And you’re underestimating Jonathan. We all have the competitive streak, but he’s been in this game longer than us. How do you think he widened his empire? You’re supposed to back down when he rises so he doesn’t crush you.”

  “If anyone crushes, it won’t be me.”

  “I don’t know if you’re being an idiot or what, but he won’t hesitate about ruining your life. There’s nothing that stops him from stripping you from your inheritance until you’re twenty-five. Are you ready to risk being kicked around for a whole seven years?”

  “Shut the fuck up, Aiden.”

  “Just stating facts, Lev.” He reaches over the counter, grabs an apple and crunches a big bite. “Play smart, not strong.”

  I tilt my head to the side, watching him as he chews on the apple. “You know about what happened that night, don’t you?”

  “Sure do.” He appears completely unfazed, his dead eyes calculating the best way to overthrow his father’s game.

  Since that incident nine years ago, there’s something wired completely wrong about Aiden.

  It’s like the deity took my little cousin and sent us back a demon on his behalf.

  An emotionless, psychopathic demon.

  “Why didn’t you tell him?” I ask.

  “I don’t have a reason to.” He lifts a shoulder. “As I was saying, smarter, not stronger. You can’t dethrone Jonathan King in a game of muscles. A game of wits, however…”

  He leaves it hanging as the corner of his lips lifts. He must’ve figured out a way to protect his defences against Jonathan’s ruthless attack.

  But that will probably put his queen in jeopardy. Not that Aiden cares. He was never shy about bringing out the big guns since the beginning.

  “Do you have anything that ties you to that night?” he asks without ripping his gaze away from the board.

  “I’m killing all ties.” Starting with that damn Clifford princess and her nosing about.

  “Exactly.” He picks up another apple on his way out and throws it my way. I catch it right above my head as he says, “Play the person…”

  “Not the game.” I finish.

  One of the truest things Dad has ever said.

  I catch a ride with Aiden for our early prac
tice because my car needs professional help to remove the paint.

  As we stop in the car park, I catch sight of honey-brown hair flying in the wind. Aiden steps out, but I remain glued to my seat, watching her easy laughter.

  She’s tipping her head back, eyes twinkling with spontaneous energy. It reaches me from across the car park and stirs a dark, unhinged side of me.

  I want to ruin that.

  I need to ruin that.

  Beautiful things have positive effects on people. Most want to capture such moments and relive them over and over again.

  Not me.

  I itch to burn them and destroy their ashes until nothing is fucking left.

  With Astrid Clifford, that sensation is morphing into something else.

  I’m compelled to turn her life as black as those canvases, but a part of me yearns to feel the stuttering of her breath as I barged into her space uninvited.

  Aiden hangs his arms from my open window. “Are you coming?”

  “Daniel Sterling.” I fix the boy wrapping his arm around her shoulder as they walk inside.

  I have two thoughts about him.

  His arm needs to be broken.

  He should be black, too, for witnessing her laughter.

  Aiden follows my vision. “He’s senior and usually benched.”

  “Or out of practice altogether.” He didn’t show up to practice yesterday, probably not wanting to waste his time on senior year.

  Daniel is the cocky football player type. The type who’s using the game to get his dick wet and to have all the attention that comes with it.

  He’s decent enough and could’ve snatched his place long ago if it weren’t for his half-arsed attempts.

  A smile tugs my lips. Guess who’ll have my wrath during today’s practice?

  One point over Clifford’s princess.

  My phone rings as I reach for my bag. Chris’s number flashes on the screen and I hit ignore.

  I’m not in the mood for his empty excuses.

  He sends a text.

  Chris: Urgent. I have news.

  “What is it?” I answer as soon as he calls again.

  “I overheard my father with his officers,” he’s whispering and seeming out of breath.

  “And?”

  Thanks to the fact that Chris’s father is the deputy commissioner at the Met Police, we were able to avoid prison-trouble all these years.

  “It’s bad.” Chris sounds chilled. “That girl’s doctor said she can remember if she’s put under similar circumstances or shown potential suspects. My old man and his colleagues are contemplating it. He told them to push through with the case because she’s a lord’s daughter. Fuck, King. What if she remembers us?”

  “She won’t.” I grind out. “Keep your mouth shut and come to practice.”

  “But —”

  “Practice, Chris.”

  I hang up before he can say anything else that’ll worsen my already shitty mood.

  The anger from this morning rolls over me and all around me, suffocating my breathing.

  Seems that the princess refused to listen.

  I’ll ruin her before she ruins me.

  10

  Astrid

  You picked the wrong subject, your majesty.

  * * *

  “Slut.”

  “Whore.”

  “Entitled bitch.”

  My face remains a blank board even with all the insults thrown my way. I think someone even called me a harlot. Who the hell uses that outdated historical term anymore?

  Since last week, when Levi cornered me in front of the classroom and broadcasted that I ‘begged’ him for it, the entire school has been out for my blood.

  During lunch, I received two offers from guys who assured me they won’t have me beg for it.

  That’s why I’m eating in a secluded corner in the school’s garden. I never liked the pretentious air of the cafeteria, anyway. Levi turning the entire school against me is more proof of why I’ll never belong in this circle.

  And by a circle, I mean the entire football team who are always following him about like they’re the subjects in his royal court.

  There’s this aura about those he keeps close. They’re called the four horsemen by RES and they carry all the destructive energy that Levi needs.

  All of them are ruthless in their own way — even the silent ones.

  Since my invisible days, I waited for any rebellion against the entitled arseholes.

  Didn’t happen so far.

  Everyone ends up dropping to one knee like willing peasants.

  Even Dan belongs to their circle, so I can’t be the type of bitch who badmouths shitty, entitled athletes in front of him.

  I can do it in my mind just fine, though.

  Sitting cross-legged on the bench, I take a bite of my hamburger and sketch with my free hand. My shrink and physical therapist told me to take it easy, but I’m not good at listening to orders.

  Besides, things have been changing with weird dreams — or nightmares — I’ve been having lately.

  I can’t even recall what I saw when I wake up. I just wake up drenched in sweat and feeling claustrophobic.

  Dr Edmonds, my shrink, said I might be witnessing flashbacks from the accident.

  I came up with a theory.

  My inability to sketch properly might have to do with what happened during the accident. Maybe I can remember what happened if I push myself to sketch something — anything — from that night.

  Every time, like now, Levi’s infuriating face comes to mind.

  I scratch whatever I’ve been sketching and huff around the mouthful of hamburger.

  Muse-killing arsehole.

  “Hey, bugger. What are you doing over here hiding?”

  “Avoiding entitled football players. No offence, bug.” What? I didn’t say I wouldn’t say anything.

  “It’s taken, damn you.” He chuckles around the words.

  That’s Dan and I. It’s a friendship made in heaven. Or in a pool.

  The thing is, when I first moved in with Dad, he had Nicole take me to a party so I’d meet friends.

  As if I would ever be interested in Nicole’s friends.

  So, anyway, I didn’t want to go, but I’m glad I did.

  Of course, Nicole abandoned me as soon as we arrived. Feelings were mutual, thank you very much.

  So, I was there, in a secluded area by the pool minding my own business and drinking diluted tequila. And okay, I might have been staring at my Sun-Moon-Star tattoo and crying about my mum.

  Then someone comes shouting. “Holy shit. Is that a bug?”

  That was Dan and he mistook my star tattoo for a bug. I punched him for saying that about Mum’s last tattoo. He was drunk so he kind of fell into the pool and didn’t surface, and I thought I killed him or something.

  So here I was pulling him out, crying and telling him I didn’t want to be a murderer. He opened his eyes laughing.

  I talked to him about Mum and he told me about his grandma that he also lost recently.

  Since then, we became inseparable. Best beginning of a friendship ever.

  That’s why I know that Dan and I are tight even when I make fun of his team.

  But hey, he once saw an impressionist painting and told me it looked like cockroaches walked on it.

  It’s mutual and totally fair.

  I peek up at him as he slides beside me with a stupid grin on his face.

  “What?” I can’t help but grin back.

  “I have huge news.”

  Still cross-legged, I face him, his happiness rubbing on me. “Well? Are you going to have me beg you to say it?”

  “That’ll work, too.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Like you begged Captain.”

  “Oh, please. Not you, too, bug.”

  “What? I’m wounded I had to hear about it like everyone else. I’m the best friend and should get inside scoop.” He shakes his head in mock sadness. “I’m telling you, our friendship is
on a rocky path.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “You can fix it by telling me how you begged for it.” His eyes spark. “On your knees? On your back? Sixty-Nine? Or maybe— ”

  I throw a small rock at his chest, shutting him up. “I told you it didn’t go that far. It was the drugs.”

  He’s silent for a second. “I don’t think the drugs make you want someone you never wanted before.”

  “How would you know that?”

  He lifts a shoulder. “Just saying.”

  “Whatever that means. Are you going to tell me your huge news?”

  “Two words, baby.” He lifts his index and middle fingers. “Starting. Lineup.”

  “What?”

  “Coach chose me for the upcoming game’s starting lineup!”

  “Wow, that’s great, Dan.” I can’t fake my enthusiasm no matter how much I try to.

  He laughs before it all disappears and he gives me his poker face. “Your disinterest is showing, bugger.”

  “Sorry, but I thought you didn’t care for the football team anymore?”

  “Hell no! I said they don’t care for me.” He rubs his hands together with mischievousness and achievement written all over his face. “I knew my time would come! No more benching.”

  “I knew you could do it.” I clasp his shoulder in a bro hug. “I’m proud of you, mate.”

  “Hell yeah, baby. I’m proud of me!” He slaps his hand in the air as if he’s swatting an imaginary arse. “Can you imagine the number of girls who’ll be throwing themselves at me after the game?”

  “You’re seriously a pig. Is that all you want to play football for?”

  “It’s a primary reason. My to-do list will expand with this shit.” He snatches my half-eaten Hamburger and finishes it in two, huge bites. “There’s also all that glorious cheering and adrenaline. You’ll love it.”

  “No, bug. Football and I aren’t friends, remember?”

  “You promised,” he says over a mouthful of hamburger.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “First year.” He switches to a calm, posh accent like some old BBC news anchor and fakes holding a mic. “When Daniel and Astrid first became friends, Astrid told him she hates football and Daniel told her he hates art. So they agreed to never fake interest for each other. However, Daniel promised to attend Astrid’s exhibition if she has one. In return, Astrid promised to attend Daniel’s games if he becomes a starter.”