Playboy Princes (Royals of Arbon Academy, #2)(20)

"Okay, so if he indirectly said his son was too good for Arbon, he'd have damaged a lot of political alliances?" I double-checked I was understanding Mattie's gossip correctly. "So where did that leave Princeton?"

Mattie screwed up her face, echoing what I suspected. "Offended as fuck."

With almost comical timing, shouts came up from the field below us.

"Oh shit," Mattie cursed, rising slightly out of her seat like she wanted to get down there and intervene. I'd admit, I felt the same way.

Number twelve for the Princeton Panthers was toe-to-toe with Jordan, his body language aggressive as he snarled something into the New American prince's face. For his part, Jordan looked like he was about to start swinging. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides, the thick fabric of his goalie gloves only highlighting the gesture.

"Crap," I muttered, my heart thundering as Rafe strode across the field to where Jordan and number twelve were arguing. Something about the way the Swiss prince stalked over the grass told me he was going to punch first, ask questions later.

Mattie grabbed my hand, squeezing my fingers and looking just as worried as I felt. Instinct told me to get down there and punch number twelve myself, regardless of what his deal was. He clearly had issues with Jordan, which meant he had issues with me. Like it or not. But Mattie looked torn.

"We can't do anything to help," she told me, but I suspected she was also telling herself. "The refs won't let it get out of hand."

I rolled my eyes, thinking of the fight I'd witnessed during the last soccer game. The one where Alex had taken a swing at Rafe. The referees hadn't been in any hurry to intervene that time.

Still, before Rafe reached Jordan and number twelve, other members of the Princeton Panthers had already separated the two guys. Two of them were tugging their team member away, creating a buffer zone of their own players to keep him away from Jordan, while another player—number eight—spoke to my friend in a much less aggressive manner.

"Okay, you're going to need to explain what just happened," I told Mattie with a long exhale.

She cringed and sighed. "Number twelve? That's Zachary Westbridge." She paused and gave me a meaningful look, like the name was supposed to mean something to me. "Jordan's half brother."

"What?" I exclaimed, my spine straightening as I halfway jumped out of my seat. “He said he had a sister but made no mention of a brother.”

Mattie groaned. "I forget how tightly our advisers keep information about heirs under wraps when it's all common knowledge to us. Okay, so, Jordan never talks about it, so swear you won't ask him about it?" I nodded quickly. "Zachary is actually older than Jordan by like... six months? I think?"

My jaw dropped. "What?! He should be the crown heir then?"

Mattie gave me a knowing shrug. "Except that he was the byproduct of a super scandalous affair that King Munroe had when he and Queen Diane were going through fertility issues. Zach's mom, Lady Silvia, was six months pregnant when Queen Diane conceived Jordan... so as you can imagine, it became a bit, uh, awkward in the New American court."

"Wow," I murmured, my eyes locked onto Jordan as he paced the field. His anger and agitation were clear as he rolled his shoulders and scowled at anyone within twenty feet of him. "So, then what happened?" Illegitimate children weren't the shameful thing they had been in the Middle Ages when religion ruled kingdoms. Now they were often a necessity to continue family lines. Or at least, they were for commoners. We didn't enter into genetically matched engagements as children.

"King Munroe disowned Zach and all but exiled his mom. She raised him on her family estate in Alberta." She was squirming uncomfortably in her seat with all of this information, and my instincts told me there was more to the story.

I frowned, keeping my eyes on Jordan again. He looked so pissed off...

"So why the bad blood between them? What happened?"

Mattie blew out a long breath, hunching her shoulders. "Well, for one thing, Zach and Jordan have had their mothers poisoning them against each other their entire lives. Every time they’re in the same place together—which happens a lot in royal circles—they end up in a fight over something stupid."

I shifted my gaze back to her, narrowing my eyes. "And the other reason?"

"The other reason?" She cringed. "Is that Zach’s my fiancé."

I swear, my jaw just about hit the fucking floor.

"I'm going to need you to repeat that."

She rolled her eyes dramatically. "Oh come on. You know we all get sold off at like age six.” She faked a gag.

"Yeah, I know. I just thought you'd have mentioned this before now. Damn, Mattie, way to be a shitty friend." I was teasing, and she knew it.

"Shut up," she grumbled, jabbing me in the side with her elbow. "Anyway. It's caused no end of drama whenever we have interactions with Zach. He's a bit of a douchebag, to be honest, and slutty as all hell. Jordan and the guys kinda hate that he's my future."

I nodded, understanding where they were coming from. "But you were just staring at him like you wanted to lick him all over."

Mattie snorted a laugh. "I'm not fucking blind, Vi. If it helps, I totally looked at you like that when we first met, too."