Page 86 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

“Shh—she’ll hear you,” Becky chides, but she cannot quite hold back her smile.

And, to my surprise, neither can I.

“Just a drop or two,” Becky warns under her breath as she passes me a small dark bottle from the trolley.

I give the bottle a good shake instead, scattering lavender liberally across Victoria’s pillow.

Becky and Jane both stare at me.

“What?” I ask. “No point being stingy. She’s our future queen, after all.”

It is not exactly a secret. Nathaniel has been courting her for months, apparently, with little to show for it. No one at the Academy seems to remember, or care that the whole thing was arranged by their families years ago. They are all too busy watching Victoria make him step—if not quite jump—through hoops for her benefit.

I snort and set fresh gerberas in the en suite’s vase. I tell Becky and Jane to go ahead, offering to finish arranging the towels on the bed while they return the trolley downstairs.

They eagerly accept my offer, promising to meet me at lunch. The moment the door shuts behind them, I dump the folded towels onto the bed, deciding on a simple arrangement of a discarded stack of towels.

“A masterpiece,” I declare, tossing a handful of rose petals on top.

Then I go through Victoria’s things. I find little that would be useful. The desk is more of a vanity and has rouge and nail polish in every vivid colour too garish to have ever graced a rainbow. My hand lingers on one small jar of shimmering rouge, the rosy mauve not far from the shade Mary once selected for me before the country dance.

It is a different kind of weapon to the one I am after. Stealing it would be pointless, and I quickly think better of it. Then I pocket it anyway.

Disappointed in my search, I give Victoria’s suite one last lookover to make sure it is up to standard. Her toilet is already gleaming, but I give it a quick scrub with her toothbrush before I go.

I am reaching for the door when it opens from the other side, and I nearly walk straight into Nathaniel. He stands there with one hand raised, as though he had been about to knock. At the sight of me, he stills.

My whole body goes rigid.

“You,” I blurt, mind too frantic to find anything clever, useful, or even particularly insulting.

I retreat a step, moving deeper into Victoria’s room. I hate that I’m acting like prey, but I’m unable to help it. Unable to even look him in the eye for more than a second at a time.

His gaze drops to the space I have put between us, then lifts back to my face. He looks surprised.

No. Not surprised.

Mortified.

As mortified as Clara looked when she realised I had not done my homework. And I do not understand why.

“I was just dropping off flowers,” he says.

Only then do I notice the bouquet in his hand, held down by his side. Red roses. Ridiculous, enormous, and even larger than the one he had given her at breakfast.

“To surprise Victoria,” he adds.

His voice is careful. Almost stiff.

When I don’t say anything, he clears his throat. “Is Victoria in class?”

“Yes.” I grip the table behind me, then force my hand to let go. “She was here getting a book, but she just left.”

He nods, as though this suits him. “Good.”

For a moment, we both stand there. I do not know what to do. I could let him pass. Invite him in. But it is not my room. Then again, he clearly has access, or he would not be here while she is gone.

All I know is I do not want to be anywhere near him. I do not want to retreat any further, either. I just want him to go.