Page 178 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

He rounds the curved tower until he reaches a narrow iron-bound door set into the stone.

I’m surprised to see it, though I suppose a battlement would make little sense without one.

I keep my gaze fixed upon his chest, refusing to look at the drop beside us. I turn my face into him instead, shutting out the wind, the rain and the darkness that has found its way into my heart.

How did this all go so wrong?

Yet beneath the grief, a small, exhausted part of me is relieved that, for one moment, I no longer have to be strong.

Chapter 26

Kira

Nathaniel carries me through the castle, and I don’t protest although each step sends a dull ache through my ribs. I press my lips together as my cheek rests against the damp wool covering his shoulder.

The corridors pass in a blur. I should be watching where he takes me, but I cannot make myself care. The collar sits against my throat, and though it weighs almost nothing, I feel it dragging with every step. This is defeat, even if I cannot yet make myself believe it.

Tonight was my chance. The Academy had been sleeping. The collar was off. Arken’s balcony was within reach. Had I gone directly there, perhaps I would already be gliding beyond the walls.

Hurried footsteps echo down the corridor ahead. Arken and Susie round the corner, both of them wearing identical nightrobes, Susie’s too big and rolled up at the sleeves, whilst Arken has pushed his spectacles up into his silver hair.

“There you are,” Arken says. “What—”

“Not now,” Nathaniel snaps, marching past them.

“Wait. What happened to Kira?” Susie asks, voice laced with worry.

“I said, not now.” Nathaniel’s tone cuts through the air like a blade.

He keeps up his fast pace.

Susie moves to follow, but Arken catches her lightly by the arm. I meet her worried gaze over Nathaniel’s shoulder for one miserable moment, then lower my head.

I ought to feel ashamed, or at least enraged, but nothing comes.

I’m tired, I tell myself. I’ll rest and regain my strength. Then tomorrow…

My thoughts turn in useless circles, and I try to reach for tomorrow, but tonight has made the future feel impossible.

All I need is some rest. Or so I tell myself. But deep down, I know this was my best chance, and I wasted precious minutes hanging from a dead king, dreaming of the message I could have left behind.

The infirmary is dim and warm, a single red lamp burning low.

“Turn it white,” Nathaniel orders, severely enough that the flames obey at once. He sets me on the edge of a narrow bed fitted with white sheets. As his arm withdraws, pain catches beneath my left breast and I flinch.

His hand returns to my waist. “Your ribs?”

“It’s n—”

“Don’t say it’s nothing.”

“I hit them when I fell.”

His gaze tightens. One hand hovers next to my left side. “May I?”

I almost laugh, but it would probably hurt. He grants me little choice over anything else concerning my body or my fate, but I don’t say so. I merely turn my head away.

His fingers settle carefully against my side, following the curve of my lower ribs through my damp shirt. I manage not to react until he reaches the spot beneath my breast, and a hiss escapes between my teeth.