Page 126 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

“Yes, and apparently she’s changed her mind.” I give an indignant sniff. “You haven’t simply been leaving the prince’s flowers here to die, have you? Our future queen deserves far better. Or shall I inform His Highness your standards of service are slipping?”

The butler splutters, seeming wounded by the suggestion.

Before he can recover, I sweep away with the bouquet, hiding them beneath a stolen napkin on my way out.

Inside an empty classroom, I strip away the black paper stamped with silver vines. For my plan to work, they need to look like a different bouquet, but no less expensive. Still like something Nathaniel might have bought.

I rewrap them in deep burgundy paper I pinched from the Etiquette classroom last week, when Madame Perfinette made us practise gift-wrapping, then bind the bouquet with the same black ribbon.

I carry the roses into Mathematics and place them prominently across the front of my desk.

Professor Danton has barely begun explaining household expense allocation before Becky leans over to whisper, “Where did those come from?”

“The prince gave them to me,” I reply, not bothering to lower my voice.

Jane’s eyebrows shoot up. Two rows behind us, Eliza nearly drops her pencil.

Victoria sits several tables ahead and off to my left, close enough that I can see her profile. She does not turn. But I know she heard me from the way her lips press into a thin line. Her friends heard me too. A strained tension settles over their tables as they keep casting glances in my direction.

For the rest of the lesson, I make no effort to conceal the flowers. Whenever I need to write, I shift them aside and let the wrapping crinkle loudly across the desk.

Victoria never looks directly at them. But when the bell rings, her gaze catches on the bouquet as she rises. Just for a second. That is how I know she has taken the bait.

On the way to Literature, she falls into step beside me.

“Kira, sweetie—those flowers are simply lovely!”

“Thank you.” I beam without looking at her. Her friends trail several paces behind us, close enough to listen while pretending not to.

“Mmm,” Victoria murmurs, her fangs indenting her lips—glossy magenta today. “Where did you say you got them?”

As though she had not heard perfectly well.

I look down at the roses and smile bashfully. “Prince Nathaniel gave them to me.”

“Did he really?” She gives a light little laugh. “Forgive me if this sounds rude, but did he say why?”

“He said red suited me.”

“Oh?” Victoria’s expression remains smooth, but her voice pitches. “How thoughtful.”

“Yes. Sort of.” I give her a sidelong look. “He also said I should make certain you saw them.”

Her stride falters, almost imperceptibly.

“How…funny.” The pause lasts only a second before she laughs again and glances over her shoulder at her friends. “Nathaniel has such a sense of humour. He is always trying to make me jealous.”

Since when?

“With a wolf?” Felix asks sceptically. “Wouldn’t be jealous of a wolf if I were you.”

“Oh, don’t be horrid. Kira’s clearly been put up to the ruse.” Victoria gives my arm an affectionate little pat. “No offence intended, sweetie. You’re a gem. Enjoy the flowers.” Then she moves ahead, still smiling.

At lunch, I hide in the women’s bathroom.

I have no intention of crossing paths with Nathaniel before Victoria finally breaks. One conversation with him could ruin everything, and I want to know whether she will confront him about the roses—or continue pretending she does not care.

My suspicion is that she will say nothing. For now.