Page 30 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Her head snaps back to me. “Spare me the false remorse.”

I do not correct her. “I’m curious what this mission of yours was. Made vampires are rarely seen beyond Wintermaw Keep. The sun sees to that.”

“So that’s not a myth? They really do burn?”

“A slow, painful death.”

“Good to know.” Her dismissive voice turns hopeful. “No chance of you burning, I suppose?”

“Do I look like I was raised from the dead?” I drawl.

She gives me an appraising look, then shrugs. “It’s hard to tell.”

I snort. “Well. I am obviously a born vampire. Born to real vampires. I age—the same as you.”

“At least you come with an expiry date.”

I barely manage to strangle a laugh. “You’ll be waiting a while. I’m only twenty-nine.”

“Shall I move the date up?”

A slow curve forms at my mouth. “You have a sharp tongue,” I purr. “What else can it do?”

Her glare returns as she registers my meaning. “You’re disgusting.”

I nod out the window. “The river crosses through the city. Once we’re over that bridge, you’ll see the market and the shopping district. If you’re especially well-behaved, you might be granted permission to leave the Academy grounds for the aforementioned shopping.”

“Who grants permission? The headmaster?”

“He might. But he has his hands rather full with his own pet—recently acquired. You might do better pleasing me. Or did you hope to juggle the favour of two vampires?”

Her jaw drops, working soundlessly before she chokes out, “I will please no one.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage just fine,” I say reassuringly, letting my gaze linger just long enough to make her bristle. “You’ll find it is in your best interest.”

The colour drains from her face, and she seems unable to come up with a retort.

I continue as though I have not just unsettled her, outlining the city’s layout while she listens—quiet now, watchful as she takes my measure.

I find myself doing the same of her. Have I told her too much, or not nearly enough? I wanted to prepare her.

No matter. The Academy will take over soon. The curriculum is nothing if not thorough. It will teach her obedience, and in time, she’ll learn her place well enough. Well enough to serve. Well enough to warm her Master’s bed. And if she’s not willing, then she must learn to pretend.

The Capital rises around us in the gloom. Stone buildings climb on either side of the road, tall and close-set, their façades latticed with dark timber beams. There are still hours until dawn, and most windows lie dark at this hour; the streets are graced with fog as we ascend the gentle incline.

Enchanted torches line the roads, their slow-flickering flames steady and unnatural, staining the city blood-red. At this hour, they are always crimson, partly because they interfere less with our night vision. Mostly to remind every citizen who the king is.

“We’ll arrive at the Academy soon,” I tell Kira, more briskly than before. “The carriage will take us directly there.”

“It would have been nice if it had taken us directly there in the first place,” she quips, but her hands betray her—fingers trembling until she presses them beneath her thighs. The nerves are creeping in.

I don’t acknowledge it. “Your noncompliance has delayed what should have been a quick journey.”

“My noncomp—? You are loathsome.”

“Perhaps, but I have your best interests at heart.”

“You collared me.”