Your tuition, room, meals, and essentials are all covered under your scholarship, and you will graduate with the chance to secure a job in whichever field you desire.
Our representative will oversee your passport and travel arrangements.
We look forward to having you at Arbon Academy.
With kindest regards,
Lord Winston Morgan
Dean of Arbon Academy
I read it twice.
“Is this a fucking joke?” I asked the man, my voice wavering as I swung between anger and confusion.
The matron gasped. “Violet. Language!”
Yeah, for sure. Because the previous however many years of chastising me in regards to language hadn’t worked, but one more shot would be the ticket.
Mr. Wainwright didn’t seem to care. “I promise that this is not a joke, Ms. Spencer. Do you remember entering a ballot? It would have been about this time last year.”
The matron leaned over her desk. “Yes, you had to go in for blood and a cheek swab, remember? To ensure that you were in good enough health to take part in it.”
The blood part sent the memory hurtling to the forefront of my mind. Meredith had all but held me down while they did the draw. It was the needle that I hated, not the blood. I was certainly no stranger to seeing my own blood.
“The Princess Ballot,” I said softly.
Mr. Wainwright glared at me then. “We discourage the use of that name. The fact that some of the previous ballot winners have married into royalty is a mere coincidence of circumstances. We make no promises regarding your future beyond providing the best education and opportunities.”
I snorted. “Okay, sure. Except that all of the ballot winners have ended up marrying a royal, so yeah. Pretty sure calling it the Princess Ballot is appropriate.”
In all fairness, it wasn’t only women who were selected in the ballot. But the number of men who’d been selected, and ended up as a prince was low. Also, “prince or princess ballot” just didn’t have the same catchy ring to it.
He didn’t answer, but there was a flicker of something in his dark eyes. The look bothered me, but I couldn’t quite pinpoint why that was. I turned my eyes back to the paper. The Princess Ballot was famous around the world, and not for one second had I ever expected that I would be chosen. Being chosen was like winning the lotto. As the letter said, over fifteen million people between the ages of fifteen and twenty-two entered.
Arbon Academy was the most exclusive, prestigious, and out of reach school in the world. Its location was a closely held secret—somewhere in Europe—and it was the college of choice for royalty and the children of billionaires. How did I know all of this? Everyone knew this. Arbon was both the most tightly held secret and also the most gossiped about college in the world. No one knew details, but damn did they love to guess.
Fifteen million.
“Ms. Spencer?”
I met the gaze of the man here to change my life.
“How can I trust this is real?” I asked softly. “You could be anyone with a piece of paper and expensive suit. I’d prefer not to end up on the black-market or in the sex trade.”
There was no way I was lucky enough to be chosen for this. It had to be either a joke, a mistake, or something untoward. The matron cleared her throat, her face splotchy and red like I’d just embarrassed her.
But the man, again, didn’t seem annoyed. “I have another message for you.”
When he reached down, I noticed for the first time that there was a briefcase at his feet. He pulled from it a small device. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before, about the size of a mini-laptop, and when he opened it, a familiar face appeared. Aged in his fifties, he was of Japanese descent with a golden, sun-kissed glow, almond eyes, and pitch black hair with not a hint of gray.
“Good morning, Violet.”
I jumped because I’d thought it was a video recording, not a video-call.
“K-King Munroe,” I stuttered. “Your Majesty.”
Holy shit, I was talking to the King of New America!
He smiled, probably well used to bumbling morons. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said easily. “I wanted to personally congratulate you on this opportunity. It has been twenty-five years since we’ve had an American chosen, so this is very exciting for the entire country.”
It was real. Holy fucking fuck.
“For your safety, we will not be announcing your name,” the leader of New America continued, and I paid attention. “But it will be known that an American will be joining the ranks of the upper elite attending Arbon Academy.”
“I have no idea what to say,” I admitted honestly. “I think I’m still in shock.”
I’d probably be in shock for the entire four years of my college degree.
Oh my god! I was going to get the best education in the world, and it was all free. Free food and room and essentials for the next four years. No working five jobs just to get by while trying to study and better my life.
Tears pricked at my eyes then. I hadn’t cried since I was young, but right now, I allowed myself this moment of weakness—all the while finishing my conversation with the most important man in our country.
When Mr. Wainwright returned the small device to his leather bag, I just sat on my rickety stool like a stunned idiot.
“Do you have any other questions?” he said, and I lifted my gaze to meet his fully for the first time.
“Just one: when do we leave?”
Chapter 2
How many people could say their first ever plane ride was on Royal Air One? However many it was, I had just joined their hallowed ranks.
“How did you get my passport so quickly?” I asked, leaning right back in a huge white leather chair. It was so padded and comfortable I knew I’d have no issue sleeping right where I was.
Mr. Wainwright, who was the only other person onboard, except two pilots and two cabin crew, answered in his succinct way. “His Royal Highness had all of your documents done up before I even arrived. The school contacts the leader of the country first to make arrangements, and then we inform the person who was chosen.”
His Royal Highness, aka the king of New America. Arranging travel for me, video chatting … geez, we were practically friends now.
“Were there really fifteen million entries?” I asked, my voice low and unsure. No matter how much evidence had been presented to me—hello, Royal Air One—I was still unable to completely trust in my good fortune.
“There were 15,456,788 to be exact, from all fifty kingdoms.”
Those numbers blew my mind. Even though I had a dozen or more questions hovering on the tip of my tongue, I could tell that Mr. Wainwright was over entertaining me, as his phone was in his hand as he scrolled through it. I decided to try and sleep for the rest of the flight. I had four years to learn about my new world. No need to rush it all now.
Due to international security and a bunch of other things pertaining to secrecy and blah blah, we’d taken off from America in the middle of the night, making the journey under cover of darkness. All I knew was that we were heading for Europe, but the rest was classified.
Even though my head was buzzing with everything that had happened, my body operating on a low level of “going to Disneyland for the first time” excitement, and my stomach grumbling, I managed to slip into a dreamless sleep, not stirring until someone gently shook my shoulder.