Page 160 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

I used to practise when we lived in Nordokk, sneaking beyond the hills to a wild field and launching myself from the same tree over and over. Not a great height, but I managed to ruin the left one badly enough that it’s never quite recovered.

The mountains offered fewer chances; the terrain made it difficult.

I try again from the dais. I drive my wings down—and surge forwards with such force that a startled whoop tears from me.

Oh. The bulfur seed worked.

Power surges through every stroke, stronger than I remember, carrying me into a low, crooked circle of the hall. I bank too late around a chandelier, grinning as crystals shatter around me. My left wing responds sluggishly, as unreliable as ever, and I overcorrect, sending my claws tearing through one of Henrikk’s blood-red banners before landing between the benches hard enough to rattle my teeth.

I wince in pain and from the noise I’ve made.

I’m fast, if not graceful.

The problem is taking off from level ground. My wolf body is too heavy. From height, I can glide—but a few months ago, when I launched from a cliff in the mountains, a downdraft drove me into a dive I could not recover from.

At least there had been a lake.

Too bad there is no convenient body of water outside the Academy gates. Just a city of stone. But I’ve had more practice since then.

Wincing, I clamber off the benches and shake out my wings.

Time to go. But as I turn for the red doors, the fur along my ruff prickles. I look up.

King Bakker hangs directly above me, silver fur buried beneath rotting velvet, his crown fixed between his ears.

Sorrow catches beneath my ribs.

Is this it?

Am I truly leaving?

I think of the others. Susie. Becky. Jane. Eliza. Clara and Harvey.

I’ll miss them, but it’s more than that. If I leave now, nothing here changes.

Wolves will still sit in the pit tomorrow morning with their heads lowered while vampires dine above them. Professor Zott will keep arranging students upon their knees. Vampires like Felix and Victoria will keep assuming anyone weaker should bow. And the Poplarins…I am walking away from the one group here who might have helped me find the witch.

I cannot free the Academy’s wolves tonight, but I can free our stolen king. Move him into the antechamber, near the dining hall doors, where everyone will see him in the morning.

When the Academy wakes, he will no longer be hanging in chains.

I do not know whether that small act of rebellion will make a difference. But perhaps the sight will kindle something in them that this place has not yet extinguished.

Besides, I need to practise. If I can get properly airborne in here, I might actually stand a chance from Arken’s balcony.

I climb onto Henrikk’s throne and rake my claws through the velvet seat, leaving long grooves as a parting gift for His Majesty. Then I leap onto the carved backrest and launch. Air catches beneath my wings. I beat hard, climbing past the chandeliers towards the outermost ring of wolves.

Higher.

My breath rasps between my teeth as I angle towards the nearest pelt. Just as I reach for it, my left wing spasms. I manage to hook my foreclaws into dry grey fur and haul myself onto its back.

Chains rattle overhead. The wolf pitches beneath me, turning my stomach, and I cling to it, waiting until the motion settles. Then I creep across to the back of the next wolf, then the next, thankful for my lean, low form as I navigate the swaying canopy of dead fur until I reach the centre of the room.

King Bakker hangs several feet beyond the innermost ring, given a wide berth so he dominates the display. Before I can overthink it any further, I leap. The wolf beneath me swings backwards as I push off, and my hind legs slip into empty air, pitching me forwards too low.

My chest slams into the king’s side and I slide off, but manage to dig in my talons before I can fall, gripping fur and shredding velvet. Years of dust erupt from his thick silver coat, and I sneeze several times, muscles straining as my claws threaten to slip before I manage to haul myself onto his back.

Four thin chains suspend him at the shoulders and haunches. I seize the nearest between my teeth and clamp down, pouring every grievance into the force of my jaws.