Wicked Games (Fallen Royals Book 2)

I expected, on my return to school Monday morning, to be bombarded with ugly stares and horrible comments whispered under their breath. Teenage bullying at its finest.

Nothing happens.

No one does a fucking thing.

“Is it me, or are we blending in more than usual?” Riley asks me.

“Um…” I shrug helplessly. I spot Ian down the hall, talking to Amelie and another cheerleader, but I’m not about to open that can of worms by asking either of them. I’d have to assume the video is gone, a fact that Riley confirms by trying to search for it. But not only that, all residual conversation about it, which would normally keep such a thing floating in gossip circles for at least a few days, are nonexistent.

“Let’s hope it keeps up,” Riley says. “See you at lunch.”

Homeroom is quick, and then I hurry to first period. Not that I’m in a hurry to get there, I just don’t want to be caught lingering in the halls, alone, for the other shoe to drop.

I slip through the clusters of students like a ghost, and it leaves my skin prickling with anticipation.

In the first period class, history, my gaze lands on Caleb. He leans against my usual desk, and he’s already spotted me. His expression is heated, and a smirk curls at his lips.

He’s proud of himself. It leaves me rattled. With conviction, I know he did this. I’d bet money that he made the video disappear. Still, how he erased it from everyone’s eyeballs is a whole other issue.

How did he persuade an entire student body to forget?

“Good morning, little lamb.”

My spine is ramrod straight.

Without acknowledging him, I take a different seat. Ian’s, in fact.

Savannah glances at me and opens her mouth, then seems to change her mind. A second later, someone leans over me.

“I don’t much like being ignored,” Caleb says.

“I don’t much like being made a fool.”

“They took you back.” He puts his elbows on the desk.

Our faces are inches apart—but I’m not going to back down from this challenge. My gaze goes from his eyes to his lips and back again.

I’ve called him many things in my head.

Demon.

Monster.

Bully.

The most accurate? Devil.

Every word out of his mouth is a damn lie. I have to hold on to that and remind myself when he once again flips a switch and tries to soothe away the hurt.

“I’m not doing this with you,” I say carefully.

He smirks. “I think you will.”

“We’re over, Caleb.” I flash him my bare wrist.

Yesterday, before I left my childhood home, I removed it and set it back on the dresser, right where he had originally returned it to after stealing it.

I kept the key. It seemed more valuable than not, and it sits at the bottom of my bag. Better safe than sorry. And who would think twice about a rusted old key?

He grabs my wrist, his lips pressing into a thin line. He’s still wearing his. It doesn’t appear feminine on him, though. Quite the opposite.

Who knew?

I let him push my sleeve up. Maybe he thinks it’s a trick.

Nothing but skin, baby.

He growls under his breath. It could be an accidental slip because I got to him. Surprised him for once. Or it could be part of the game. Another lie.

This just in: we’re playing my game now.

I smile. “As you can see, we’re done here.”

He straightens, fingers slipping off my skin. “We’ll see.”

He returns to his seat, and I exhale. One encounter down… just a million more to go. But I can’t help the smile that creeps across my face.

Margo: 1

Caleb: 0

The bell rings, and I stand. Savannah shuffles along behind me, muttering. Her attitude—feigned interest and then an abrupt change—piques my interest. I slow down in the hallway, waiting for her to pass me. Her class is a few down from my next one.

She hesitates next to me. “You’re going to try and take down the royalty?”

I raise an eyebrow.

“What’s that look for?”

“Royalty, as in all of them? Why on earth would I do that?” A fight with Caleb is going to be hard enough as it is. I don’t need his three friends involved.

She makes a face. “Amelie mentioned something.”

“They don’t all need bringing down.” I don’t know what Amelie said. Again, my mind goes to the worst possible place: Trap.

This school is filled with vipers. It’s like I’m asking to be bitten by just existing here.

“Gotta go.” I duck into my classroom, leaving her standing outside.

It’s quiet. Thankfully. I make it through the rest of my morning classes in peace, only once passing Riley in the hall and giving her a nervous smile. Fifth period, right before lunch, I take a seat as Ms. Devereux starts her lecture on a story we read over the weekend.

My gaze moves from her to her desk in the corner. She’s got a picture of her son on it. He’s young—probably only seven or eight—and is dwarfed in hockey gear. I spotted it the other day, back when I appreciated that Caleb plays hockey, and she’s mentioned him in passing. That she has to get home to her family, or when she’d miss a day because of a hockey tournament or doctor’s appointment.

Whatever the reason, it’s clear she loves him.

I learned from Riley that my teacher’s husband is moving up in the political arena. He’s currently holding down the position of lieutenant governor for the state of New York. It’s a little intimidating, knowing Ms. Devereux’s husband is in politics.

Now, I just hope Greyson doesn’t end up anything like Caleb Asher.

I jerk my attention away from her desk. I shouldn’t be thinking about her family. It feels a bit like a boundary I’m crossing, even in my head. It just seems nice, is all, to know she cares so much for her son.

Eventually, the bell rings.

And I need to meet Amelie.

For a moment, I consider tracking down Riley and asking her to come with me. But I don’t want to risk upsetting the delicate truce Amelie and I seem to have struck.

And just because I’m doing something scary doesn’t mean I can’t do it alone.

Swallowing my nerves, I head toward the courtyard. Some students eat lunch out here in nicer weather, but the chill of November has driven everyone inside.

Amelie sits on one of the benches, her pleated skirt fanned out around her. Her toned, tan legs extend out from under it. Her ankles are crossed, her posture straight. Everything about her is picture-perfect. Curled, long blonde hair, subtle makeup, the way her shirt fits to her torso.

I swallow down my creeping jealousy. That’s not what this is about, right?

It’s about getting back at Caleb.

“About time.” She checks her phone, then raises an eyebrow at me.

“I was debating whether or not to come.”

“You made the right decision,” she says. “I heard you snubbed Caleb this morning. Everyone is whispering about it.”

Unlike the video?

She flips her hair back. “Caleb’s been meddling in your life forever.”

“I know.” I sit beside her. “That isn’t news.”

She scowls. “What do you remember?”

“Of what?”

“When you up and left. We were ten. What do you remember?”

I shake my head. “First of all, I did not up and leave. I was taken away.”

—head snapping back⁠—

I press my fingers to my temples. “I don’t want to discuss this.”

“The boys in this school,” she mutters. “They’re out to get us.”

“What are you talking about?” Is she referring to someone else along with Caleb?

“Caleb played us all, don’t you get it? He seduced us⁠—”

I drop my hands and glare at her. This isn’t going how I thought it would. No, actually, it is going how I thought it would. I’d just hoped for something different.

“He didn’t seduce me.”

Okay, well, he laid out a sticky web, and like an idiot, I fell right into it.

“And anyway, it didn’t work, because he and I are done. And you know what? I think this conversation is done, too.”

She’s prying and invading, and why didn’t I see this side of her before?

I move toward the door.

“He charmed the pants off of me and Savannah,” she says quietly.

I stop in my tracks.

“You knew that, right? Him sleeping with her, then dating me? Well, if you can even call it dating⁠—”

I spin around. “I don’t want to hear about how you fucked Caleb! God, Amelie. Really?”

She has tears in her eyes, but I’m so over it.

“Why do you think he did it?” She waves her hand. “He knew I was in a vulnerable position, but he just couldn’t resist one day holding it over your head. Because he knew you’d come back. And you’re letting him steamroll you, Margo. Don’t be an idiot like me.”

“What vulnerable position?”

She stares at me, blinking away the tears. Somehow, they don’t fall, they just… I don’t know, get reabsorbed back into her eyes? It’s magic that doesn’t mess up her makeup.

“My family is in some thorough negotiations, is all.”

Negotiations? Could she be any more vague?

“I’m going to lunch,” I tell her.

Obviously, we all grew up differently. I bounced around homes. She bounced around countries. She was studying abroad in Paris when I got back to Rose Hill. Her family has a second house in the south of France.

What negotiations could her family be going through that affect her so drastically?

The answer doesn’t reveal itself, and I shake my head on my way to the door.

“Ask yourself this, Margo,” she calls. “How did Caleb find you in the woods?”

I know how he found me. Unknown sent me the proof—a picture of Ian dragging me across the field.

This is the only time I help you. They said that.

Unknown messaged Caleb. I think I knew that, in the back of my head. They sent me the photo, but then they sent it to him, too.

“Savannah told him where to find you,” Amelie says.

Wait.

What?

“She texted me about you two, but I told her I didn’t give a shit. So she messaged…” Her voice distorts.

Or maybe that’s the ringing in my ears.

I nod, holding my expression blank, until she leaves. She doesn’t head into the building—she goes toward the parking lot. All I can focus on is my heartbeat thundering.

Savannah is Unknown?

My chest tightens, and my breathing turns ragged.

This is probably a panic attack. I recognize that, but it doesn’t help me when I’m hyperventilating. I press my palm to my chest, my gaze locked on the ground.

“Margo?”

Gravel bites into my knees.

“Up you go.” Robert lifts me to my feet and guides me to a bench. “Follow my breathing.”

He exaggerates his inhales and exhales, repeating them patiently until I copy him. Until my heart rate finally comes under control and the bands around my chest loosen.

“What happened?”

“I… I just got overwhelmed.” I bury my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry.”

“Come with me,” he says. “I just have to meet with a student and then I’ll take you home. Okay? This weekend was a lot.”

Tears escape my closed eyes. I drop my hands and fumble for a tissue in my bag.

“Oh, honey, don’t cry.” He rubs my back in circles.

“I shouldn’t have run away.” It made everything worse.

All of my fight is gone. I used it on Caleb and Amelie, and I don’t want to take it out on Robert. I follow a half step behind him all the way to his classroom and sit at a desk in the back while he chats with another student. A sophomore, I think. She throws nervous glances in my direction.

I doodle profiles of boys with black holes for eyes.

“Ready?” Robert asks.

I jerk, crumpling the page. I’m not a fool—I just can’t stop drawing Caleb. And if Robert sees, he’d know, too. I toss it in the trash on the way out. There’s still the portrait to complete. More of Caleb to see, to delve into. Would I fail if I gave him the devil’s red eyes and horns peeking out of his hair?

In the car, Robert glances over at me. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, Margo, but lately you seem lost. Don’t get me wrong—it’s perfectly okay to feel lost at seventeen. It’s Len’s job, and my job, to help you navigate to where you want to go. But this might be more than that because of your history. Am I onto something here?”

I bite my lip.

Am I lost?

“It can take time and soul searching,” he adds. “And reconnecting with your past, like visiting your childhood home. If you want to talk to anyone⁠—”

“A therapist?”

I’ve talked to too many state-mandated psychologists for my liking. There was nothing wrong with them, except their soul-sucking nature and endless questions.

“Or your dad,” he says quietly.

I freeze.

“He’s only twenty-five minutes away. And we’d be happy to take you if you⁠—”

“I’m not ready for that.” I look out the window and decide to admit one thing. One ugly feeling. “I tried to visit him when I was twelve. Ms. McCaw said I was on the approved list. But we got there, and he had revoked it. The guard passed along that he said it was no place for…” My throat closes, and it takes a few swallows to get the rest of the words out. I lamely finish, “A child. And technically, I’m still one.”

“You’ve grown up a lot since you last tried.” He sighs. “I can reach out to Angela, see if we can arrange something⁠—”

“Please. Not today.”

He pulls up to the curb in front of his house. “Len will be home early today, okay? You won’t be alone for long.”

“I think I’m just going to catch up on homework and be antisocial for a while.”

“Perfectly acceptable.”