Poison Throne: A Dark College Romance(31)

All of them lifted their palm readers.

"Tuesday," Rafe said while the others checked their messages. "It's to be held in the Cayman Islands, since they're still outside of monarchy rule. It's top secret, royals and high-up resistance members only. The vote is for the royals, though; resistance is just there to lay out their plans for a better world."

"We got the invite," Nolan said, speaking for his twin as well.

"Me too," Jordan added.

"We're going to have to leave first thing tomorrow morning if we want to get there before the vote," Rafe said, typing something into his palm reader. "They've not given us much time to get organized. The rule states that if a royal does not show, their vote automatically goes to the majority. So best to be there."

Felipe was probably hoping that some wouldn't make it, hence the short notice. Only helped if the majority present went the way we wanted the vote to go, though. Personally, I was just happy that early next week this would all be over. If the people's courts were introduced, and I really fucking hoped they were, then Uriel would have lost his power. A resistance was useless if there was nothing to resist against.

We were heading for a brighter future, I just knew it.

"Please tell me we're all taking Rafe's plane," Mattie said with a sigh. "You have the best face masks, the water is so fresh, and I really love your staff."

Rafe looked amused. "Yes, my plane is ready and waiting."

"Your parents’ plane," I said, refusing to think I was dating someone that owned their own plane. Yeah, nope. Not going there.

Rafe laughed this time. "Sure, Violence. Whatever you need to believe."

Great, that was settled.

First thing though, I had to speak to Alex. The Australasian prince—uh, king—hadn't been at the game today, and with a bit of luck, had decided not to show up at all. Then again, this was Alex… I doubted he’d just changed his mind. He’d probably been there somewhere, watching from the shadows and rubbing his hands together like an evil, storybook villain.

Why was he even back, though? He was the king of Australasia now, and I seriously doubted his kingdom's monarch council was all just, "Oh cool, go back to Arbon and finish your degree; we got this."

Nor would Alex have been okay with immediately handing power over to someone else. Didn't he have a little sister to care for too? She must be so broken, losing both parents so suddenly like that. Or maybe she wasn't, seeing as King Steve had been a deplorable bastard.

God dammit. Now I was feeling bad for Alex.

I needed to get this chat with him over with, sooner rather than later. And I knew exactly who could help me out.





Chapter 26





Nervous energy had me picking at the stitching of my chair while I waited for Dean Morgan to finish his call in the next room. I'd hoped I might find Wainwright in the Dean's office, but I'd been sorely disappointed.

Still, Dean Morgan could make this meeting with Alex happen, so I was simply going to pull up my big girl panties and face the father of the guy I'd killed.

I was confident he didn't know. Surely if he did, I would no longer be enrolled. Certainly I wouldn't be enjoying all the freedoms I currently was. But guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders nonetheless. Was Dean Morgan in the Society? Did he know Brandon had sided with Uriel?

The door clicked open, and Dean Morgan hurried in with a tense, distracted look on his face. "What can I help you with, Miss Spencer?" he asked, sounding annoyed as hell to be dealing with me. "I was of the understanding that Prince Rafe had already fixed your schedule to your liking."

There was an edge of derision in his tone that immediately flared my anger to life. Like I'd asked to change my schedule because I felt like it. Like I'd missed a month of classes because I was lazy. What in the actual fuck?

All my nervousness flew straight out the window as cold rage flooded through me.

"Alright, fuck this," I said with a sigh. "Let's just drop the bullshit, shall we?"

Dean Morgan's eyes bugged out, and his jaw damn near hit the floor. Apparently he wasn't used to that kind of language from ballot winners. Well, guess what? I didn't give a flying fuck.

"I know all about the 'lottery' being rigged for genetic marriages, and I know you and Nurse Reller were fully aware of it, helpfully pushing all the poor, clueless orphans into the arms of their prince charmings. I even know you've been complicit in tampering with girls’ birth control along the way, so seriously? Save the shocked act for someone who gives a damn." I drew a breath, then carried on before the Dean could splutter any pointless denials. "I'm here for just one reason, and then you can go back to turning a blind eye to all the nefarious crap going on under your fucking nose. Clear?"

Dean Morgan's eye twitched, but I kept my stare flat and confident. He didn't scare me.

He stared back at me for a long moment, like he was deciding whether I was serious or not, then finally inhaled deeply. "Very well, Ms. Spencer. What can I do for you?"

His tone was all acid and resentment, but he'd made his choice. He had to have learned by now I was no ordinary, timid student who would be cowed by the title on his door. Nope, not me.

"I understand Alex arrived back to the academy today," I announced, keeping my spine straight and my eyes hard. Guilt had started seeping into my mind, as the longer I faced Dean Morgan, the more time I had to remember how I'd killed his son just two weeks ago and he probably had no idea.

Fucking hell, I had a lot of bad karma to balance out after this treaty was—hopefully—signed.

Dean Morgan's lips pursed. "And?"

"And I need to speak with him," I elaborated. "Preferably before Rafe and Jordan return from their team meeting." I gave him a tight smile. My princes had been called into a meeting with their team to debrief on the day's games before the formal dinner, and I'd been left with Mattie as my backup. Of course, they'd intended for us to sit directly outside the team’s training rooms like good little puppies, and I'd dragged her away for this quick visit to the dean the second the doors had closed.

By Mattie's guess, we had maybe half an hour. Forty-five minutes at best. After all their warnings not to "run off" without sufficient back up—Mattie didn't count—I doubted I could get away with another incident. If we weren't back before their meeting let out, I suspected I'd be sitting at dinner with a pair of stinging ass cheeks. And not in a good way.

Strangely enough, I almost expected that kind of punishment more from Jordan than Rafe. My New American prince was hiding all kinds of dangerous layers, and the flash I'd seen this morning—when he’d all but threatened the guy who saw us kissing—was just the tip of the iceberg.

Dean Morgan took his glasses off and polished them, then placed them back on his face and clasped his hands in front of him.

"I can tell you where to find him," he replied in a cool tone, giving me a hard look, "but I want you to tell me something in exchange."

Curious, and cautious, I gave a noncommittal nod.

"Ms. Spencer, I hope you'll permit me to also speak frankly, as time is of the essence. I understand that you spent some time as a guest in the Red East faction of the Society." He cocked a brow, and I gave a bitter snort.

"A guest. Sure. What's your question, Winston?" I dropped his formal title in a clear deviation from polite etiquette. This prick had manipulated dozens of girls—and some boys—into what was, at best, arranged marriages without one party ever knowing about it. At worst, human trafficking.

His nostrils flared with irritation. "Was my son there?"

I froze, the prickles of guilt now full-blown stabbing pain. "Yes, I saw him there," I replied with a slow nod. It was the truth, after all. And as much as I hated Brandon for what he’d done to me, I couldn't leave his father to suffer, never knowing what'd become of him. Or at least not without giving him a hint. "There was a lot of fighting the day we escaped," I offered in a gentler tone of voice, "if he was on the wrong side—"

"He wasn't," Dean Morgan snapped, cutting me off. “He wouldn’t side with those extremist psychopaths. I raised him to respect the monarchies.”

My brows rose at the lie. Or maybe he believed it? "All I'm saying," I rephrased, licking my lips, "is that if he was on the wrong side, I don't know how many of Uriel's followers made it out alive."

The Dean's face was tight, his frame radiating tension, but he just stared at me for a long moment before giving a short nod.

"Very well. King Alex of the Australasias is in the visiting monarch's wing. Fourth floor of the Westervelt Tower. I'll call ahead and advise him that you're on your way."

I let my breath out in a rush. "Thank you," I said sincerely.

This was my best, and probably only, chance to speak with Alex without my well-meaning princes hovering. They wanted to protect me, and I understood that. But Alex wasn't a threat to me, not now that his parents were gone. The more I'd thought on it, the more confident I was that King Steve had been the one pulling all those strings from behind the scenes. The Alex that I'd dated and started falling for... that was the real Alex. Everything else had been out of fear of his father. Then again, he had been sleeping with Claudette. So there was that.