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

  Uriel's lips pulled into a smug smile. "She was one of us."

  I blinked at him, but that was enough to relay my shock.

  "She didn't even die in childbirth," he told me, like he was doing me a favor. "She just never wanted to be a mother. She did her duty to the Society, then handed you over."

  My heart shattered into pieces and turned to dust in the hollow cavity of my chest.

  "Why her, then? If she didn't want children..." I trailed off, shaking my head. The blows just kept coming, and it was breaking me down.

  Uriel folded his legs, bouncing his ankle. "Like I said, you came from perfect breeding. Your mother was the closest descendant we could find to a pre-monarchy royal."

  My brows hitched somewhat. "What does that mean, exactly? I'm royal?"

  Uriel scoffed a laugh. "Not even close. Your ancestor was a royal by marriage only, and even then she ended up divorced and disowned, prior to having any children. But she was known as the People's Princess before she got caught in a scandal and was assassinated in a staged car crash. The common folk love a good rags to riches story, and here you are, ready to echo the original Lady Spencer." He clapped his hands sarcastically. "Bravo on snagging two crown heirs, Rose. You must have really built on those skills from our last training session."

  Training session was definitely a euphemism in this situation. He was clearly referring to my skills in bed versus the skills of combat.

  "Where is your wakizashi?" he asked, his tone changing dramatically. It was a dangerous tone. I had to be very careful about how I answered this or I might find myself fighting for my life.

  "You bombed a ball,” I said flatly. “There was nowhere in my dress for a weapon, and I was forced to follow before I could retrieve it. If you had given me even the slightest heads up that this was heading my way, I would have been better prepared."

  I had to throw it back on him just enough that it didn’t feel like everything was my fault, while still taking some responsibility. Uriel had rules. Lots of fucking rules. And if you broke them...

  "You disappoint me, Rose," he said softly.

  Fuck.

  “And even worse, you ran from me.”

  Double fuck.

  I shifted slightly into a better fighting pose, thankful that the loose-fitted outfit gave me a wide range of movement. Uriel followed that posture change, some of his anger fading away.

  "Very good, little one. You remember well."

  Little one. That's what my nickname had been when we'd first met and I was a child. When I’d hit puberty, it had changed to Rose. Him using it now, after everything, just made me feel sick.

  "Pretty sure you’re twisting the past,” I choked out. “You left me. You fucked me and then left me, clearly having gotten what you’d wanted from me.” The words burst from me, and I wished to take them back as soon as they were out.

  "You weren’t ready," he returned, and surprisingly, he was still calm. "You needed to find strength without me, enough to handle what you had been born to do."

  My stomach swirled, and I wished there was a way to block my ears.

  "You will lead a revolution," he finished, and now he just looked like a crazy man, a manic smile on his face. Clearly he'd waited a long time for this moment.

  "And if I say no?"

  I braced myself, but the strike never came. At least not from his fists.

  "If you say no, then I will kill everyone you have ever cared about, including both princes and those twins you fell in with at Arbon."

  And there we had it. My sensei had taught me from a young age not to form attachments, and he was showing firsthand why he'd had that rule. Using it against me.

  "You should have looked for someone who felt passionately about this cause," I said to him. "But since you've given me no other option, I will stay here and learn more about what you're hoping to achieve."

  "A non-answer if I ever heard one," he said, but he didn't fight me on it. He was clearly happy that I hadn't just tried to murder him and storm out the door. I wasn't that stupid though. There was no way I could beat him—he moved almost inhumanly, like there was an extra energy about him—and I'd never even been able to land a decent blow.

  I would have to be smarter, get to the point where he trusted me again, and then I might be able to fight dirty. This fucker liked to pretend he was all about honor, but the truth was he had taught me a lot about lying and manipulating to get what you wanted.

  Looked like I was going to dig out those old skills.

  "We will set you up with your own apartment," he told me, gesturing toward the door like he wanted me to walk ahead of him. Having him at my back wasn't ideal, but I acquiesced because I wanted to build his trust again. I had to play the long game here, I had to be patient.

  I could do anything to save my friends.

  Chapter 5

  Uriel took me to an apartment only a few blocks from his ranch. Fully furnished, it was monochromatic with white walls and floors and black furniture—exactly how I used to love house design, clean and uncluttered. But I wasn't the same person I had been back then, and he was going to learn that very soon.

  "You should be very comfortable here," he said, calmly waiting near the entrance, magnanimously allowing me to take it all in. Probably waiting for my face and eyes to light up like they used to when he’d surprise me with a special treat. He wanted the old Violet back.

  But that was never gonna happen.

  I was done being his plaything. Done being groomed. Just fucking done.

  "Who is my father?" I asked, knowing I’d never have a better time to get answers about my past. If I’d been aware that Uriel had been part of my life from birth, I’d have asked all my questions years ago.

  "Your father donated sperm. You were created in a lab. Science is marvelous when used in the right way."

  This just got better and better.

  "Will you be returning my friends to me?” I decided to push my luck. “There’s no real need to keep them. You’ve already shown that you can get to any of us, no matter the circumstances.” He loved flattery; some might say it was his fatal flaw.

  His smile was broad as he regarded me. "I’ve missed you, Rose.”

  I didn’t reply, dead-ass staring him down.

  “As for your friends,” he continued, “let's just say if you show us your best side over the next few weeks, give this a real chance, then you will be rewarded."

  Few. Fucking. Weeks?

  He had to be kidding himself. "I’ll give you four days," I negotiated.

  He smiled, and fuck, it was so much like the one I used to love seeing every single day that I almost got emotional. He'd been the first man to truly break me.

  Apparently I hadn't learned much since then.

  "Ten," he countered.

  "Six," I shot back.

  His smile grew.

  "Eight days in which you open your mind and learn everything that the resistance has to give you. Eight days and then you can have your friends back. But after that, your training will be over, and it will be time to step into the role you were born for."

  If I had to hear that one more time, I'd probably lose my mind.

  "I agree to those terms, but if in eight days you do not give me my family back, then all promises are null and void. I will raze this compound to the ground, and even if I die doing so, I will take so many of you with me that you'll need years to rebuild."

  Not even a flicker of his megawatt smile. "I would expect nothing less, Rose."

  He turned and left, and as the front door closed quietly—controlled, as were all things he did—I sank down to the floor and forced myself to swallow the screams that were trying to rise from my chest. He'd be outside waiting to hear a reaction, and if he so much as sensed that I did anything other than stand here calmly, there would be hell to pay.

  I needed to get through the next eight days.

  I needed to get my friends back.

  Then I needed to destroy the resistance.

  Turned out this apartment was completely decked out for me. Regular clothing in my size, fight clothes in my size, toiletries to my liking—and by my, I meant the ones that had always been provided to me by Uriel.

  For the first time in weeks I was able to shower without a taser-happy woman staring at me, and I slept in a bed. A soft bed with nice sheets that smelled of violets. Ironic? You betcha. My sensei knew exactly how to push my buttons, and the fact that I'd been named after flowers by a mother who’d died giving birth to me was something I’d held tightly to—the belief that I’d been loved so much, at least for a few minutes.

  But even that was a lie.

  How the fuck could my entire life be manufactured to give them the perfect opportunity to emerge as a superpower, I had no idea.

  I mean, it made sense when the facts were laid out, but it also didn't. I was a teenager, the absolute worst front person they could have chosen. No one trusted teenagers... most of the world didn't even like them. Hell, I didn’t like teenagers, myself, and I was one.

  But Uriel had been right about one thing. The world loved a Cinderella story. Rags to riches. Prince Charming and all that crap. They'd rally behind a pretty girl with a tough upbringing, but more than that, they'd rally behind a commoner with a prince. It made me worry what other plans the resistance had for my stolen princes.

  And then there was the issue of the monarchies themselves. Or more specifically, of certain monarchies and their breeding programs. Maybe backing the Society wasn't the worst choice I could make after all.

  Ugh, but how could I forget the callous way they'd triggered that earthquake? How they'd given no regard to the loss of life...? How Claudette had been executed in the ensuing panic? No, I couldn't throw my lot in with Uriel and his ruthless Society.

  Surely there could be a middle ground somewhere. Like my sensei had said, I had been placed into the perfect position to become their figurehead, their face when the resistance took their fight public. Perhaps that could also be the perfect position to instigate some positive changes on both sides?

  It was all so complicated and mind blowing, but I couldn't ignore the thread of hope, that tiny flicker of possibility that I could actually have landed in exactly the right place to stop a war. Not start one.

  A sharp knock on my door startled me from my thoughts, and I cautiously made my way over to answer it. Uriel would have just let himself in, arrogantly thinking that he owed me no privacy. Why would he when he thought of me as his creation?

  "Can I help you?" I asked the sharply uniformed guy standing there. He was young, maybe a few years older than me—the same age as Rafe and Jordan—and handsome, in a brainwashed sort of way.

  "Hi, Violet," he greeted me with a bland, polite smile. "I'm Caine. I'll be escorting you to your first training seminar."

  I stared at him a moment, debating my odds of choking him out and searching him for keys or something.

  "Okay, sure," I finally replied with a sigh. Uriel was no fool; he wouldn't just hand me the means of escape so easily. More than likely this guy was a test of my loyalty. Already. Damn, this was going to be a long eight days.

  "Oh, cool," he said, sounding a bit surprised. "You're much less... uh... I was warned you might be a bit reluctant to start your induction."

  I rolled my eyes. Definitely a test and a shitty one at that.

  "Nope," I replied with a bright smile, "not me! I was basically born to be in the resistance. I'm very excited to be here."

  Caine gave me a skeptical look but then shrugged and indicated I follow him. I was already dressed, so I stepped out of the apartment and closed the door behind me. There was no lock—of course—so I just left it and walked beside my escort in the direction of the main entrance.

  "So, what are we starting with?" I asked him, maintaining my false cheer. Catching more flies with honey and all that crap. "Bladed weapons practice? Hand-to-hand combat? Meditation?" I groaned a bit on that last suggestion. I hated meditation, but Uriel insisted it was the key to a clear mind and supreme control over our emotions.

  "Uh..." My somewhat handsome guide gave me a side-eyed look. "No. The leaders thought it might be best to start you in a history seminar. It's understandable, given your situation, that you might have some lingering sympathy for the monarchies."

  I frowned slightly, not following the connection between subjects. What was a history seminar going to do to change my opinions?

  We walked in silence for a few minutes, then my guide started pointing things out, like we were on a tour. The communal dining hall, the fitness centre, the swimming pool—for fucks sake—and various other things that I had no intention of ever using.

  “What?” I asked, forcing a joking tone as we crossed a lawn, “No prison for naughty Society soldiers?”

  He jerked to a stop, frowning, but not before I caught his eyes flick across the street to a concrete building with heavily reinforced doors and windows.

  “I’m not going to help you break your friend out,” he muttered, offended. “My loyalty is to the Society.”

  “Of course,” I replied with a tight smile. “I was just making conversation.”

  And working out where they might be holding Jordan… and Rafe? I didn’t think they’d been at Red East camp with me, and Uriel would want to keep his leverage close.

  Caine led me into a building then stopped beside a door marked with just a number—twelve—and knocked sharply. A stern-faced woman of Asian heritage opened the door and eyed me like I was a piece of gum stuck to her boot. Behind her, a single chair sat in the middle of an otherwise vacant room, and in front of it was a massive projector screen.

  Leather straps dangled from the chair, and a chill ran down my spine. Somehow, I didn't think this would be anything like the history classes taught at Arbon.

  The woman didn't greet me and certainly didn't introduce herself. She just grunted a noise and stepped aside, indicating that I enter the room with her.

  Sucking in a deep, grounding breath, I did exactly that and forced myself not to flinch when the door closed behind me. Caine had abandoned me with the grouchy woman.

  "Sit," she barked at me, nodding to the chair.

  I moved over to it, eyeing the leather straps with suspicion. "I'm here willingly," I pointed out. "Are these antiquated torture techniques really necessary?"

  The woman sneered at me, her wrinkled face screwed up with disgust. "You tell me, girl. If we brought the New American prince in here right now and put a gun in your hand, would you shoot him?"

  My jaw dropped before I could catch it. "I would—what? No. Why should he die over who his parents are?"

  It was the wrong thing to say. Of course it was. I knew it even as the words passed my lips, but goddamn, I couldn't tell them I'd shoot Jordan. They'd know I was lying and then probably force me to do it anyway as a punishment.

  The woman gave me a disgusted look. "Sit in the fucking chair. We have a lot of work to do."

  Swallowing heavily, I did as I was told. She was less than gentle as she strapped my arms and legs in, and dread pooled in my stomach. What was she going to show me that required such measures?

  The screen flickered to life, and I braced myself.

  I was about to find out exactly why this faction had become so radicalized. I could only hope that my mind was strong enough to remain impartial.

  Chapter 6

  The next three days continued in an identical manner. Every day Caine collected me from my room and escorted me to the "history class" where I was strapped to a chair for ten hours straight and forced to watch the most horrifying, gut-churning images.

  It seemed like somehow the Society had gathered footage of all the most obscene, cruel, and inhumane acts ever committed by monarchies, dating way back prior to the Monarch War, even.

  Watching the countless grizzly executions, torture sessions, public whippings, and electrocutions was bad enough, but it was the covert footage that left me weeping and sickened to the point of vomiting each day. The body camera recordings depicting children from poor areas rounded up and mass executed. The deliberate sterilization of both men and women in overcrowded cities. And the images of breeding farms where women were kept in medical comas while being impregnated and carrying children for the aristocratic elites.

  After the fourth full session, I returned to my room trembling. My face was slick with tears and my sinuses hurt from sobbing and I could safely say that I understood. I understood why the radical faction of the Society hated monarchies so much. If all their members underwent the same "training" as I was being subjected to, it was no wonder they'd become so blind to reason.

  But while I understood where they were coming from and how Uriel and his supporters—because that type of training held his mark all over it—had built such a loyal following, I hadn't bought into it.

  It was only one side to the story. One very biased, heavily edited and influenced side, tailored to fit their own narrative. Yet every minute I was forced to watch those atrocities committed by the leaders of our world, the more I sensed myself breaking.

  I wouldn't survive eight days of that. Uriel knew it too.

  Hugging my arms around myself, I peered out my apartment window at the complex, just as I had done every night. I had to escape. I had to find Jordan and make sure he was even still alive... Rafe could handle himself, I had no doubt. But Jordy was the one they kept threatening me with. He was the one in immediate danger. I'd royally fucked up that first day when I’d screamed at them for leniency toward him. I'd shown my weakness, and they were using it against me.

  I stood there for longer than I usually did, lost within my own mind as I planned my escape. Long enough that when my door clicked open, I was still standing there instead of "asleep" in bed like normal.

  "You're awake," Uriel commented, striding across the room to stand at my back. Way, way too close at my back. "Can't quiet your mind, little one?"

  The thread of satisfaction in his voice turned my stomach. He'd been letting himself into my room every night, but had been content to just sit beside my bed and watch me for an hour before sneaking out again. He always thought I was asleep, but I never was.