Poison Throne: A Dark College Romance (Royals of Arbon Academy Book 3) Read online

  POISON THRONE

  ROYALS OF ARBON ACADEMY 3

  Tate James

  JAYMIN EVE

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  LETTERS FROM THE AUTHORS

  Also by the authors:

  Copyright © Jaymin Eve & Tate James 2020

  All rights reserved

  First published in 2020

  Eve, Jaymin

  James, Tate

  Poison Throne: Royals of Arbon Academy #3

  No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious, and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Cover: Tamara Kokic

  Editing: Heather Long (content) and Jax Garren (line)

  To the women who refuse to let the “rules” dictate their happily ever afters.

  This is for you.

  Chapter 1

  Rafe is gone.

  Those three words ran through my head like a fucking curse spelling my downfall. Tonight had been the dance. A time for celebration with many members of the monarchy in attendance.

  It had ended in death and destruction. Earthquakes. Fire. Blood.

  The resistance had attacked, and who the fuck even knew how many were dead now. Meghan. Claudette—I mean, I hated that bitch, but still… And then possibly Felipe, Rafe’s father.

  Running a hand over my face, I tried to wipe off some of the blood. Somehow I’d collected my fair share since the bombs had gone off, but truthfully, that paled in the face of Rafe being stolen away from me.

  Fucking hell!

  It had taken many resistance members, and we’d all put up a good fight. But in the end, their numbers and technology had been too much for us to withstand. Not without an army of our own to meet them head to head.

  “We should strip them of their uniforms,” Jordan said, bringing me back to the present. He was kneeling beside a black-clad resistance body, already removing the man’s tactical vest.

  Looking down at the dead bodies strewn all around us, I got what he was saying. If we were going to pull off the ruse we’d set in motion with the one living resistance fighter who hadn’t made it back onto the chopper, then we had to play our parts.

  “This one is about my size,” I said, moving toward one of the prone figures.

  Jordan watched me with hooded eyes for a beat, and I knew what he saw: robot Violet. This was the face I wore when the world got too much for me and I needed a break from the emotions. It was my Violence persona amplified until I was barely flesh and blood.

  This was how I would survive until we got Rafe back.

  “Hurry up,” the resistance asshole, who was lucky to still be alive, hissed.

  We might have made a deal with—aka threatened—him to get us into the compound that Rafe was being taken to, but that didn’t mean I wouldn’t still kick his ass.

  “One more fucking word,” I warned him, not in the mood. His eyes, the only part of his face I could see, went super wide, and I took that for his acknowledgement that I had reached the end of my patience today.

  With a huff, I stripped the uniform off the dead woman before realizing I couldn’t get out of this dress myself.

  “Need a little help?”

  Jordan was at my back, hands resting on the bare skin above the laced section of my ball gown.

  “Please.”

  Normally this would have been the perfect opportunity to get a little naked and have some fun, but that was the last thing on either of our minds. His touch was quick and sure, and when the outfit loosened around me, I reached down for the black clothing of the resistance, shimmied into the pants, and then donned the shirt. Followed by her boots.

  A black mask with two holes for the eyes was the final piece, and then Jordan and I shoved the near-naked people out of sight.

  “They’re on the way,” fucker-with-a-death-wish murmured. “Code phrase to identify yourself when you enter is 'death to the monarchy.'"

  Right… How original.

  The sound of a helicopter closing in reached our ears. He leaned down and shouldered one of the remaining bodies still all in black and gestured for us to do the same with the others. “We don’t leave our dead behind,” he said.

  Jordan and I both heaved a body onto our shoulders as well, and I tried not to panic that we could be walking right into a setup. I’d do it, no matter what, because I needed to get Rafe back. Just had to hope that before we were ambushed we at least made it to the resistance compound.

  Rafe was worth the risk we were taking.

  They’re waiting for you.

  I hadn't forgotten those words. Hopefully it meant that no one would kill me on sight… There had to be a way to use it to my advantage and get my prince back.

  Then I would make them fucking pay.

  "Are you sure you want to do this?" Jordan murmured to me, leaning down so we couldn't be overheard. "Rafe wouldn't want you to risk your life."

  "You would leave him behind?"

  Jordan jerked back like I'd struck him. "No! I plan on going, but I'd prefer you stayed here, where it is safe. Might be best so that we can relay information to you."

  I loved Jordan. So many parts of him were absolutely perfect, but it was here that he and Rafe were total opposites. Day and night.

  "I appreciate your concern," I told him with total sincerity. My words were almost drowned out by the helicopter; it was so close now. "But I don't need to be babied. And I never leave a man behind—especially if that man is Rafe or you. We’re getting him back, and there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

  There was no more time for conversation, and as he straightened, tension pulled the muscles tight in his broad shoulders. He wasn't happy, but he also didn't argue.

  The helicopter appeared at the side of the building then, another stealthy-looking beast like the last one. We moved toward it with the resistance member, and from the rooftop we tossed the dead bodies across the narrow gap into the open doorway, then went back for more. The resistance solider said they didn’t leave their dead behind, and he was serious about it.

  Then it was our turns to make the leap.

  When I landed steadily, I was already prepared for a fight. I hadn’t noticed the resistance asshole giving us away when he communi cated with his team, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t a code word I’d missed.

  This could legitimately be where we were ambushed.

  Jordan landed behind me, protecting my back, and both of us remained in that stance as we waited for instructions.

  Black headsets were handed to us, and I slipped mine on over the mask I wore, just like everyone else. Whatever meshy material they used in these outfits, it allowed sound to penetrate.

  "Identify," a voice said in my ear.

  The resistance asshole went first. "Death to the monarchy. Red East."

  "Death to the monarchy. Red East," I bit out, not sure what the chick had sounded like, but hoping none of them would know the difference.

  Jordan spoke up quickly as well.

  We took our seats after that, everyone strapping in as the beast took off into the sky.

  “The prince was secured,” one of the pilots said. “We lost ten members tonight, but their sacrifice will not be in vain.”

  I almost lost my cool and killed them all before I reminded myself that I needed to get to Rafe and these assholes were my best chance. Patience might not be my strongest suit, but eventually they’d get what was coming to them.

  The helicopter moved very differently than a plane, its motions jerky and rapid. In a blink we were out of the school grounds, the darkness hiding most of the landscape below.

  Jordan reached out and grasped my hand, and I felt instantly better. We didn't dare speak, aware that everything would be heard through our headsets, which meant I was stuck with a running reel of horror in my head.

  I could barely believe everything that had happened tonight. Arbon Academy had been attacked by the resistance with some form of “earthquake machine” that’d ripped the ballroom apart. It had been a ploy to take out a bunch of monarchs while they were in one place, and it'd succeeded.

  Rafe's father... he'd been hurt badly. Neither of us had any idea if he was even still alive. Jordan had lost his betrothed, who was like a sister to him.

  Despite his calm strength beside me, I knew he had to be devastated. Still, he never faltered, remaining exactly who and what I needed in this moment.

  I was fucking lucky to have him.

  Giving his hand one last squeeze, I settled back in the uncomfortable chair. I wanted to close my eyes and rest, knowing that this was the lull before the shitstorm, but I was afraid to let my guard down. If this was a setup, the moment I relaxed, they would take full advantage.

  This wouldn't be the first time I’d gone into a fight sleep-deprived—in fact, it used to be a common part of my training. I could make it work either way.

  It grew even darker the farther we traveled from the school, and outside of the occasional buzz from a radio with tersely barked orders, there was nothing but silence in the chopper. I almost couldn't believe that we'd managed to get this far without detection, but maybe luck was on our side.

  We traveled through the night, stopping once at a station to refuel. This was where they dropped off their dead, and I was pretty happy about that—smells had started to creep through the helicopter, and honestly, no one wanted to be chilling with a ton of dead fuckers. Bad vibes.

  With more space to spread my legs, I settled in for the rest of this journey. It was frustrating not knowing where we were going, but there was no discreet way to find out, so I’d just have to make do.

  How the fuck did they even manage to get around in an aircraft like this without having to log flight plans? Air security was tight, but possibly the resistance had “inside people” that took care of that shit for them. They were clearly not without power and contacts. Tonight wouldn’t have happened otherwise, and since we were heading straight into the belly of their stronghold, that really didn't bode well for our survival.

  Rafe had better be in one fucking piece when we got to him. I knew he was part of the Society, as they called themselves, but this extremist branch of the resistance was not the same and I had no idea what they wanted with the Swiss prince.

  They hadn't killed him on the roof, though, and they could have. So they must need him for something.

  This knowledge was the only thing keeping my sanity intact.

  Chapter 2

  When we finally landed for the second time, it was almost night again, and I was fucking exhausted.

  The pilots got off first, and as soon as they disappeared from the helicopter pad, the dude who’d smuggled us on whipped his head toward us. "We need to debrief with the leader," he said. "It's standard practice, but since the earlier team with... your guy"—he cleared his throat—"will have already reported in, and the others will be logging the dead soldiers, it should be short and brief. Follow me."

  He spun on his heel and stormed off into the growing darkness, clearly much more confident back in his own territory. Jordan and I followed, cataloging everything as we walked.

  The helicopter pad was on the top of a building, and the last rays of sun were visible off in the distance. "Skyscrapers…?" I murmured, slightly confused about where we were.

  "It's a compound," Jordan whispered, leaning close to me. "See the fence way out there?"

  He pointed to his right, and I followed that line until I saw the glint of a tall chain link fence. Between us and that fence were dozens—or more—of tall, shiny buildings.

  "Why the fuck did I think they were living in huts or underground," I said, shaking my head. "This is modern... as modern as America and Arbon Academy."

  Jordan was about to say something else, when the resistance asshole turned back and snapped, "Hurry the fuck up. They're waiting for us, and any delay will look suspicious."

  His voice shook, and from the way he fidgeted back and forth, I could tell he was desperate for us to move. And that might have been because he was worried about getting into trouble.

  Or... another reason.

  "Be ready for anything," I murmured to Jordan before we picked up speed and hurried to where the dickhead was waiting at a door that led into an internal set of stairs.

  "This is Red East's main headquarters," the guy explained as we stepped inside, the metal door slamming after us. "The very top resistance members live here; the rest of us are spread out further within the compound."

  "How many of you are there?" Jordan asked as we all started down the surprisingly wide staircase. It was fancy, and as everything else I'd seen, super modern and sophisticated.

  How much fucking money did they have?

  "Ten thousand here, twenty thousand in the Red West camp, and probably a million spread over all the resistance camps."

  A. Million. People.

  Fuck's sake. How were we supposed to find Rafe in a million people? I mean, my hope was that he'd been taken here, but maybe we'd been lied to from the start and now we were stuck in the Red East compound.

  No. Just, no.

  I couldn't let myself go there. I needed every ounce of my focus, and being beyond tired was not helping. I couldn't do the Rafe-might-be-dead-or-far-away-from-here thing as well.

  The guy was silent for the rest of our journey down many, many flights of stairs. An elevator would have been a welcome sight, but since we appeared to be in some sort of closed-in stairwell, there was no way to tell what lay beyond.

  When we reached the bottom level, we exited through the only door and found ourselves in a room filled with black-clad individuals.

  The asshole who had been leading us spun at the last second and shouted so loudly it hurt my ears: "East target! East target!"

  He was pointing at us, and everyone in the place erupted, diving forward, weapons out as they pointed swords and guns and other fun shit in our direction. Jordan and I moved closer together, our hands held out in front of us because there was no way we could take on this many armed people and survive.

  Our only chance was to talk our way out of this.

  Jordan got there before I did, ripping his mask off. "I'm a resistance member," he said with all the authority that a prince cont ained—spoiler alert, a fucking lot. "And I demand you take me to your leader."

  Someone moved in beside him, swinging his gun barrel to crack Jordan in the head. My prince was ready though, swiftly smashing his hand against that person's forearm, dislodging the weapon, and then uppercutting him in the jaw so that the only person going night-night was the idiot who’d thought it wise to attack.

  Also, Jordan could fucking fight. I'd be fanning my face right now if we weren't in complete mortal danger.

  Someone else moved forward, and I kicked into gear, breaking their nose with a well-placed jab to the face. He backed off screaming, and I resumed my position at Jordan's six.

  "Don't hurt the target," someone shouted from the back of the lot. "Red East leader will kill whoever harms her."

  Her?

  They're waiting for you...

  Fuck, guess that confirmed it—I was definitely the target and they couldn't hurt me without consequences.

  This was going to be fun.

  Jordan and I fought back to back, and we took down dozens of them before they overwhelmed us with sheer numbers. I saw the final strike coming, slamming against his temple, and when Jordan's gaze met mine, his eyes fluttering as unconsciousness crept across his face, I screamed out my fear and frustration.

  "Don't hurt him!" I cried, fighting to get to his side, but far too many resistance fighters stood between us. They had just not stopped coming. Over and fucking over.

  We'd fought strongly, but two could not beat an army. Not today anyway.