Page 118 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

My fingers rise to the collar before I can stop them. Their stares bring me shame—and it’s a good thing. It reminds me that it’s there.

As I tug at the leather out of habit, my thoughts inevitably return to Nathaniel. To the prince who dragged me here and fastened this collar around my throat. Who sits on the highest tier beside Arken wining and dining whilst wolves like Harvey huddle below, putting on brave faces and trying not to tremble.

Suddenly, I am on my feet. I do not remember deciding to move. Leaving my breakfast on the floor, I climb the steps out of the wolf pit to the middle tier. Vampire students turn as I weave between their tables, their expressions shifting from irritation to disbelief. By the time I reach the next staircase, the hall has begun to quiet.

I start upwards. The steps are steep enough that the high table disappears from view for several pounding heartbeats. My pulse thunders, but it is anger, not nerves, that drives me on. Then I crest the final step.

The hall falls silent.

The highest tier opens before me, and I find myself standing directly before the long high table. Every member of staff has turned to stare. My gaze catches briefly on Nathaniel, but I do not let it settle there. I fix instead on the headmaster: sleek silver hair, short, neatly trimmed beard, spectacles framing an expression of composed intelligence.

“Headmaster Arken.” I incline my head.

“Kira.” Surprise shows plainly behind his spectacles. “How may I be of assistance?”

“I’ve come to ask the prince for a favour.”

Professor Marmala’s lips press flat. At the far end of the table, Zott chokes on his wine. And Nathaniel stares at me. This time, I let myself stare back.

I cannot decipher the look he gives me. His eyes are cold and as blue as a half-frozen lake, the edges sharp enough to open me where I stand. I am too tired of letting fear choose my next move.

“Yes?” he asks, the single syllable drawn out as if he is unsure of it.

I smile sweetly, raising my voice so it carries through the hall. “There’s a golf tournament next week. Professor Bomcroft has been encouraging collared students to invite their Masters. I was hoping you might attend and remove my collar for the session.”

A ripple of surprise passes along the staff table.

Nathaniel sets down his fork. His gaze locks with mine, his indifferent tone at odds with the warning in his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m not especially fond of golf. Nor do I see why you would presume to ask me.”

“Presume?” I ask innocently. His eyes flash—a second warning—but I ignore him, making certain my next words carry even further. “You’re the one who collared me, after all.”

There.

He goes very still.

A murmur ripples through the hall. Staff members exchange startled glances. Professor Zott’s eyes widen as though someone has presented him with an unexpected gift.

Every vampire and wolf within earshot has heard and drawn the obvious conclusion. Nathaniel must be my Master.

I do not know precisely why I wanted to expose him. Only that I am angry and hurting, and this is a secret he wanted buried. A secret I can use to hurt him—or at least unbalance him.

So I watch his face carefully, looking for proof that this frozen monster with his frozen heart is capable of feeling.

If I cut you, will you bleed? Or is there nothing inside you at all?

A crack appears in his composure, his gaze flicking across the listening hall, swift and searching, as though calculating the damage. He looks almost panicked.

“It would be so lovely to shift,” I add with a wistful sigh, “and run across the lawn and fetch golf balls with the others. Don’t you think so, Your Highness?”

Professor Bomcroft’s round, red-cheeked face brightens. He leans across an affronted Marmala. “Yes, indeed! It really would be a treat for her to stretch her legs, Your Highness, being a rather special event—”

Nathaniel lifts one hand.

Bomcroft falls silent instantly.

We both know I cannot shift in front of this school. We both know what my true form would announce about me, and what his father does to abominations. Which is exactly why I hold his gaze and smile harder.

“I see no reason why I can’t,” I say.