Page 75 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

Awful, sour anger stirs in me.

Does he touch her every night? The question burns on my tongue, impossible to ask. I swallow the words, but I know at this moment that, given the opportunity, I would kill him for her.

“How old is he?” I ask.

Susie’s blush returns, the flush creeping down her neck. “Arken? He’s thirty-five.”

I stare at her. “Thirty-five? But his hair is silver.”

“Yes, well. He says it’s been like that for years. I like it,” she adds with a shrug, her closed expression making it clear that is all the explanation she intends to give. “Anyway, he’s not quite fifteen years older than me. I’m twenty-one, you see. My enrolment was delayed because of…” Her ears twitch. “My appearance.”

“Right.” He’s still quite a bit older than her, especially since he’s our headmaster, but I don’t say so.

“It’s really not so bad, you know,” she adds quickly. “Having a Vampire Master. Some vampires are kind. Arken is. And he’s terribly clever. He reads everything. Sometimes I think he’d rather spend an evening with a book than running the Academy.”

Hearing her justify it does something unpleasant to my chest. I search for something comforting to say, something approving, but I can’t quite bring myself to pretend.

An awkward tension follows us as we return downstairs to the foyer. When we move through an antechamber towards the dining hall, my attention catches on a set of doors nearly as tall as the ceiling. Susie had led me past them this morning without comment. The door frame is ebony, the contrast making the panels look even redder in the torchlight. Bright red, like freshly spilled blood.

My feet slow to a halt. “What’s in there?” I ask.

Susie’s smile fades. “The assembly hall.”

“What kind of assembly?”

“Oh, you know. Formal ones. The whole school attends. Like the welcome ceremony at the start of term—you missed that. And exams and graduation, of course.” She reaches for my arm, already trying to steer me away. “We can look at it some other time. Besides, Arken only holds assemblies if the king comes.”

“The king?” I glance back at the doors. “How often does he come here?”

“Not often.” Her fingers tighten around my sleeve. “Come on. The others will already be waiting for us at dinner.”

I don’t follow.

Instead, I reach for a thin iron handle.

“It’s locked,” Susie says sharply, making my hand freeze inches from it. “And there’s nothing in there but an empty hall. Can we leave it for another time? Please? I’m starving.”

“Oh. Right. Of course.”

Feeling foolish without knowing why, I let her pull me away, but not before I glance back.

The red-panelled doors wait in silence.

Ominous and beckoning.

Dinner is every bit as wretched as the other meals, only louder. Despite Susie’s pack’s attempts to include me in conversation, all I want is to be left alone. I make it through by saying as little as possible, eating even less, and blaming my sullenness on exhaustion.

I keep my eyes firmly off the staff table, and I neither notice nor care that Nathaniel is absent from his seat beside Arken. In fact, I barely notice when he arrives halfway through dinner service. I certainly do not notice how he’s changed his suit, or how he chooses to sit in the chair left suspiciously vacant beside Victoria.

But it would only be natural for a hunter such as me to take note of my surroundings. Of how he sits, straight-backed and grim, one long hand curled around a glass of wine and saying absolutely nothing while Victoria and her friends laugh and converse.

He does not look down at the wolf pit. Not once.

Good.

I should be relieved. The last thing I need is the prince paying me any more attention—and drawing everyone else’s with it.

Becky leans closer and sighs. “Dreamy, isn’t he? I hear royal pets receive gold collars as gifts.”