Page 182 of Collared by the Vampire Prince

The corridors upstairs are quiet. Breakfast has already begun, and the distant hum of the dining hall carries through the castle.

My steps slow as I enter the antechamber.

Nathaniel emerges from an archway ahead, moving towards the dining-hall doors from another direction. For one disorienting moment, the sight of him stops every thought in my head. He looks much as he always does, immaculate and faintly bored, except that today his black coat falls almost to his ankles, more formal than anything I have seen him wear before.

A bouquet of dark-red roses rests in the crook of one arm, wrapped in black paper and tied with ribbon.

And he is so tall.

I have always known that, but after the tower, after having his arms around me and feeling the strength with which he hauled me back from the edge, I notice him now in a way I had not allowed myself to before. My eyes catch on the breadth of his shoulders and the quiet authority with which he crosses the floor, as though he expects the world to make way for him. It sends a faint shiver over my skin.

He must see me gawping. We are crossing the antechamber at right angles, with scarcely thirty feet between us. And shrinking.

Questions rise before I can suppress them. What am I supposed to say? Thank you for saving my life? I hate you for fastening the collar around my throat again? Did you arrange the healer? Did you mean anything you said upon the tower?

I don’t know how to behave around him now. Am I meant to pretend his arms around me and the careful touch of his hand against my wing never happened? Did something alter between us up there, or am I merely the fool who imagined it?

My feet grind to a halt as I draw near, my mouth already parting in greeting.

Nathaniel’s gaze passes over me without him pausing his stride. He walks straight by, his coat stirring the air beside my arm, and pushes through the doors into the dining hall without so much as a glance back.

I stare after him until the doors swing closed between us, and the antechamber falls quiet.

It should be a relief. Nathaniel ignored me, and whatever strange softness came over him upon the tower has evidently passed. He is once more the distant prince who scarcely acknowledges my existence. Instead, irritation tightens beneath my ribs.

Part of me wants to march back to my room and slam the door, but I cannot hide there forever. So I follow him inside. The dining hall seems louder than I remember. Cutlery scrapes against plates, chairs drag across stone and hundreds of conversations rise towards the domed ceiling. The vampires sit immaculate and perfumed upon the middle tier, discussing weekend parties and upcoming examinations as though nothing unpleasant ever happens within these walls.

Nathaniel has already reached Victoria, and for once, she rises and accepts the flowers. Her magenta lips curve with satisfaction as she stretches onto her toes and kisses him.

Something curdles inside me, and painstaking seconds pass before I remember to look away.

By the time I descend into the wolf pit, Nathaniel is already climbing the other staircase towards the staff tier. He takes his usual seat beside Arken’s empty one and becomes absorbed in conversation as though this is an ordinary Monday morning, and he did not risk his life jumping from a tower or carry a bleeding wolf through the castle a week ago.

I join Susie’s pack and lower myself into the space left for me within their circle. Nobody makes a fuss over my return, for which I am grateful. Except for Harvey, who pretends to muss my hair and slides an extra piece of bacon onto my plate.

The others welcome me back with similar restraint. Clara squeezes my arm and asks whether my ribs are better, Becky gives me a cautious smile, and even Jane wanders over from her own pack.

Neither of us seems quite sure what to say. I resist the urge to ask how Pet Obedience has been going.

“The Literature essay is due tomorrow,” she says at last.

“Finished it,” I say with a smile.

“Really?” Becky asks, looking so impressed I’m almost offended.

In fairness, she has spent enough recesses watching me scribble last-minute homework to justify the surprise. She has no idea I usually have more pressing things on my mind than what some sentimental vampire poet said a few hundred years ago.

Eliza drifts over, eyes bright with excitement, to tell me her news. “I’ve been invited to the royal masquerade ball at the end of next month,” she announces, glowing as she speaks. “Gerald is taking me shopping for a gown. I thought you might like to come too.”

“Me?”

“You’re going, aren’t you?”

“I don’t think I’m invited.” In truth, I didn’t realise there was a ball.

“Oh.” She blinks. “But surely the prince will attend, and pets are included—provided we are leashed, of course. Gerald says we’ll find one to match my dress. I’m thinking pink pearls.” Her face falls. “I really hoped you were coming.”

“I’m sure you’ll have fun anyway.”