Cruel King (Royal Elite 0)

Great. I’m really on my own while Dan is banging his random girl for the night.

My head becomes fuzzy, not sure if it’s because of the drink or something else. Even the football team who are fist-bumping the eager crowd and grabbing a random butt here and there become hazy.

All I keep hearing is the multiple shouting of “King!”

There are two of those at Royal Elite School — or RES. According to Dad — sorry, Father — I’m to stay away from anything with the King’s last name.

When I became Lord Henry Clifford’s ‘public’ daughter, he had two rules for me:

You will not disgrace the Clifford surname.

You will stay away from the King surname.

I usually wouldn’t listen, but the two kings of the school represent everything I loathe.

Unrestrained power.

Reckless behaviour.

Corrupted wealth.

They’re probably the ones who own this ridiculously, wealthy mansion. Old money is everything in RES and the King name is the definition of it. Even Dad’s old money and aristocratic blood don’t compare to theirs.

I don’t wait for the team’s grand entrance.

Invisibility 101: Never mingle with the popular crowd.

I make a beeline towards the back hallways of the mansion, but the cheers and the ‘Go Elite’ follow me all the way through.

The obsession with the football team in this school makes me twitchy. I mean, come on, they’re school kids, not the freaking Premier League titans.

But again, sports were never my thing. I’m all for art and creativity. I’m a far cry from being an athlete and Dan always makes fun of how even a small run makes me all breathy and panting.

The more I walk down the half-empty hallway, the more my skin heats. Something fuzzy and disorienting takes over my head. The couple making out near a door become double.

I sway and bump into something.

“Watch it!” Someone grunts and I mumble something in return.

Shit. I don’t feel good.

I reach for my phone to call Dan. The numbers become blurry, wavy lines. I blink and fall against a wall.

I hit Dan’s number and the rings sound like they’re from an underground room. He doesn’t pick up.

Come on, Dan.

I try again, but the more time passes, the hotter my skin becomes. My clothes feel like pieces of lava on my flesh.

I hit Dan’s number on my phone again. He still doesn’t pick up.

I remember that we agreed to meet at the car park so I opt to wash my face and head out there.

My hand sakes while I clutch the phone and make my way down the hall, searching for the washroom. There’s something else Dan mentioned about tonight’s party that somehow flashes into my fuzzy head.

Don’t go into the pool house. It’s restricted access.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about that now. Couples are on either side of the wall, making out and whatnot. Surely, if this was a forbidden area, they wouldn’t be here.